UC-NRLF 
 

 

TALES 
 
 IN 
 
 VERSE; 
 
 CRITICAL, SATIRICAL, AND HUMOROUS : 
 
 BY THOMAS HOLCROFT. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PUBLISHED, FOR THE AUTHOR, BY H. D. SYMONDS, 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1806. 
 
Printed by C. Mercier and Co. 
 Northumberland Court, Strand, London, 
 
PREFACE, 
 
 IN a periodical Work, entitled The Wits' 
 Magazine, published in the year 17S3, of 
 the four first numbers of which I was the 
 Editor, the fourth, fifth, and seventh of the 
 following Tales first appeared : the remain- 
 der have never before been published. To 
 excite emulation and increase the sale, 
 the proprietor of the Wits' Magazine 
 thought proper to bestow medals, on such 
 correspondents as communicated the best 
 prose and poetical compositions : but as it 
 was difficult to find any, which were sent, 
 that could plausibly be worthy of such re- 
 ward, except by much alteration, the task 
 of altering devolved upon the Editor. 
 
 One that was thus altered, by me, was 
 that entitled POLITENESS : OR, THE CAT o' 
 NINE TAILS. The Tale I had met with 
 in prose, but it was put into rhyme and 
 
 VOL. i. A 
 
 M 3858 
 
sent by Mr. John Martin, who I under** 
 stood was a Butcher, at Mitcham in Sur- 
 rey. The moral of the Tale was good, 
 and, as it was of a pleasant kind, I wil- 
 lingly re-wrote the whole, except two lines, 
 which, if I remember rightly, were the 
 following : 
 
 " Attended by his servant Jerry, 
 
 ff Was traveling tow'rd the town of Bury." 
 
 Mr. Martin, who received the medal, 
 was by that made the reputed author; 
 and he sent me a letter of thanks, acknow- 
 ledging that he no longer knew the poem 
 as his own. To confess the truth, I con- 
 sidered it as mine : but, should Mr;. Martin 
 be living, and be desirous to maintain his 
 claim, I shall most willingly resign, and 
 carefully avoid contention. 
 
 The Tale entitled the Owl and the Howl, 
 is expressly written for the purpose of 
 inducing writers in general, but especially 
 those wlio profess to teach the principles 
 of language in dictionaries or grammars, to 
 recollect the confusion which arises cer- 
 tainly to the illiterate, and especially to 
 foreigners who study the English language, 
 
and, as it should seem by their practice, to 
 men of letters themselves, when they write 
 the article an before many words that begin 
 with an aspirated h. It ought to be the 
 particular care of writers to understand 
 precisely when the h is and is not pro- 
 nounced, and never to write an but when 
 it is mute. At present, in books the 
 strangest confusion in this respect prevails. 
 Writers countenance each other, through 
 idleness, by writing the article an before tiie 
 words beginning with an h almost univer- 
 sally. It was a ticklish subject to handle 
 in verse, and there are passages in tins 
 Tale, particularly, which will not endure 
 the severity of criticism. 
 
 The subject of the last Tale in the first 
 Volume is taken from La Fontaine's Fables, 
 Livre X. Fable X. Le Berger et le Roi. 
 
 The Tale of Giafar, in " The Arab and 
 his Three Sons," is taken from an Eastern 
 Tale, but with great variations, though it 
 has been told by several of the Eastern 
 writers themselves in a different manner : 
 by some to honor, and by others to satirize, 
 the fair sex. What I have mentioned are 
 all the literary debts which I have con- 
 A2 
 
Vl 
 
 Piously contracted, in the following vo- 
 lumes. 
 
 In the two last Tales I have taken the 
 liberty to introduce living characters. My 
 zeal to repress false, and, in my opinion, 
 pernicious taste, by showing a small part 
 of its absurdity, as well as my love of true 
 taste, and the encouragement I would wil- 
 lingly give it, will scarcely be blamed by 
 the candid and considerate. If I have 
 been led too far, if I have committed any 
 personal injustice, when I discover it, my 
 acknowledgment shall be as public as 
 my fault. Indeed, I shall hold it a crime, 
 of which I shall bitterly repent : but if a 
 kind of public delusion should be in any 
 degree counteracted by this slight and 
 good-humored attack, I shall then think 
 I deserve, whether I do or do not receive, 
 the approbation of the public. As a man, 
 Mr. Hope I hear spoken of as amiable in 
 his manners ; but he is likewise a zealot, 
 and zealots, with the purest of intentions, 
 may commit the greatest of mistakes. His 
 virtues, were I more intimately acquainted 
 with them, I should take a greater pleasure, 
 if opportunity offered, to enumerate and 
 
Vii 
 
 announce, than to laugh at what appears, 
 in him, to be but a foible; but, to foolish 
 imitators, the consequences may be indeed 
 serious. An enthusiast becomes dangerous 
 in proportion as his intellect is strong, if 
 he happen to take a wrong bias ; for he is 
 certain to make many of the weak and the 
 vain his proselytes. Such enthusiasts are usu- 
 ally men of highly virtuous intentions ; but 
 Whether in the midst of their enthusiasm, 
 if they find its absurdity held up to public 
 ridicule, they will have the philosophy to 
 endure it with patierice, or the good sense 
 to join the laugh, is strongly to be doubt- 
 ed : it is far more probable that they and 
 their proselytes will affect to treat such 
 jocular attacks with sovereign contempt, 
 and speak of them as the effusions of igno- 
 rance, self-sufficiency, and vulgarity. 
 
 Indeed, the absurdities, which are at 
 present in such high vogue, originate 
 chiefly, if not entirely, at Paris ; and 
 among men who assume to themselves an 
 exclusive discernment of fine taste: but 
 their folly has spread so widely in this 
 country, and is so greatly on the increase, 
 that it is an act of charity to warn even 
 the rich against the absurdity of a fashion, 
 
via 
 
 which because of its expensiveness would 
 be, and perhaps has been, in many in- 
 stances ruinous. For an individual to at- 
 tempt to exhibit the various modes of gran- 
 deur which the various nations of the earth 
 have childishly made the objects of their 
 admiration, their toys, the mode in which 
 they could best exhibit the superiority, 
 not of intellect but of wealth, is for an 
 individual to attempt to collect the absur- 
 dities of all ages. Whether this be a ra- 
 tional or a virtuous application of the great 
 power which money bestows on its posses- 
 sor is a question that I should think easily 
 answered. 
 
 How r ever, though Mr. Hope has fallen 
 into this mistake, he has at least done it 
 with a degree of splendor and consistency 
 that make us regret his mind had not 
 taken a different bent. The symmetry of 
 parts is frequently well imagined and pre- 
 served: the simplicity of the forms, and 
 the beauty of those antique limbs, claws, 
 and masks, which are so plentiful in his 
 apartments, frequently attract and delight 
 the eye. To show their absurdity, ex- 
 cept by the simple question what con- 
 nection is there between objects so totally 
 
IX 
 
 distinct as household furniture and wild 
 beasts ? would lead into a long disqui- 
 sition on the principles of taste, with its 
 relations to utility, of which a short Pre- 
 face cannot admit. The imitators of 
 Mr. Hope have been many, but his equals, 
 in the discernment of beauty and sym- 
 metry, few*. 
 
 That the beautiful forms of ancient na- 
 tions, nay, that their greatest absurdities 
 should be made publicly known and pre- 
 served, as well for the instruction as the 
 amusement of mankind, is a very desirable 
 object ; but for this there should be one, or 
 perhaps several grand national repositories, 
 by which the moral instruction they con- 
 tain might be general. This is indeed a 
 highly desirable object, in which considera- 
 ble progress is making at the British Mu- 
 seum ; and it will increase in proportion as 
 true taste and genuine science are incul- 
 cated. 
 
 * The notes to the introductory Ode on Taste are 
 extracts from a pamphlet, printed in 1804, entitled 
 Observations on the Plans and Elevations designed by 
 James Wyatt, Architect for Downing College, Cam* 
 rbidge : in a Letter to Francis Annesley, Esq. J\L P, 
 Jly Thomas Hope, 
 
X 
 
 In public performers, I greatly indeed 
 honor merit, and would willingly contri- 
 bute to its reward ; but when these per- 
 formers deserve reproof, or when their ta- 
 lents are publicly misunderstood, to com- 
 ment on them with truth and candor is to 
 perform a public duty. In the part where 
 I have, in the person of Master Betty, most 
 censured, or rather ridiculed, it is justice 
 to add, I have gone in direct opposition to 
 a great majority of the public, at least as 
 that majority expressed their opinion eigh- 
 teen months ago : but on many occasions 
 it has been too often proved that the public 
 are occasionally seized with a strange in- 
 fatuation, as well respecting persons as 
 things, sometimes in favor of them, and 
 sometimes so much to their prejudice, as 
 greatly to injure them, and often to de- 
 stroy. When he appeared in London, 
 Master Betty was an extraordinary boy, 
 and no more: fortunately for himself, he 
 has received extraordinary rewards, such 
 as are rarely the lot of genius in full matu- 
 rity, and such as are but too frequently 
 denied to a long, a laborious, and a highly 
 useful life. 
 
 Berner Street, July 20, 1806. 
 
AUTHORS AND CRITICS ; 
 
 THE REVIEWER, THE GOOSE, 
 
 THE NEW EDITION. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 YOL. 1, 
 
AUTHORS AND CRITICS. 
 
 TALE I. 
 
 W^HEN Freron told Sartine* that he must feed, 
 
 Sartine replied, Of that I see no need; 
 
 Meaning to hint, laconic in harangue, 
 
 You will not die of hunger, if you hang. 
 
 I freely grant, I don't like such a dance : 
 
 But that's the way they manage things in France. 
 
 Now Freron was, as we are told, 
 A writer in your French Reviews; 
 And authors, French or English, new or old, 
 
 * Sartine, Lieutenant de Police, sent for Freron, a writer 
 and critic, and demanded why he had written what was libel- 
 lous ? Freron answered, Monsieur, ilfaut vivre, " Sir, I must 
 live :" to which Sartine replied, Je ne vois pas la necessity, 
 Monsieur, " I gee no necessity for that, Sir." 
 
 B2 
 
4 
 
 Whether they well or III could write, 
 
 Ha\'3 never .akon inach delight 
 
 To hear their own abuse : 
 Yet he, forgetful of bienseance , 
 And, though a Frenchman, wanting complaisance,* 
 
 Almost of common sense bereft, 
 
 About him laid, to right and left. 
 
 To madness stung, the scribbling swarm 
 
 Called for revenge ! Justice must arm ! 
 
 Good taste was murder 'd ! Yes, the laws- 
 
 Must vindicate them, and their cause ! 
 
 And therefore they beseechM the police 
 
 Would properly correct this Freron's malice. 
 
 Fve heard, and almost think it true, 
 That Authors will together league, 
 And, what they can't in person do, 
 They'll somehow manage by intrigue. 
 Statesmen, and others I could name, 
 I've also heard, will do the same ; 
 I mean in France : in England ! Fie ! 
 Fll not bewray my nest, not I. 
 
5 
 
 Well, as for this Monsieur Sartine, 
 To know what his reply might mean, 
 You must be told 'twas he that held the rod : 
 Though not an executioner himself. 
 Halter and axe lay piled upon his shelf, 
 With hangman waiting, ready at his nod. 
 He knew the way to make polite 
 The man that could or could not write." 
 We English too had hope to learn this art, 
 
 Till lately, but 'tis flown : 
 Ah me ! the dearest friends on earth must part ! 
 
 Our great schoolmaster's gone ! 
 This by the bye : I have not time 
 To put him properly in rhime : 
 But, should 1 praise him, as perhaps I may, 
 Cannings and Pitts unborn shall bless the day. 
 
 As for Reviewers, merciless as Turks, 
 They pick out all the faults from others' works, 
 Nay more than all, that they may sell their own, 
 And of these faults make great display, and boast ; 
 B 3 
 
But, Author or Critic, he who has most 
 Has never yet been fairly ask'd, or known. 
 
 The man oblig'd a book to make 
 A barren field must often rake, 
 Together heap couch grass and weed : 
 Till harvest's o'er, he cannot feed. 
 
 Now, Sir, the rubbish, tares, and briers, 
 Are things the Critic most desires : 
 Nectar, Ambrosia, cannot please, 
 Nor food Olympian, like to these ; 
 For pudding, beef, and pork, are they, 
 If cull'd and dress'd the proper way. 
 What viands can, in critic court, 
 Compare to pudding, beef, and port ? 
 Mouse makes the cat erect his bristles : 
 The ass, good creature, feeds on thistles. 
 'Twas said of old, and not at random, 
 De gustibus non disputandum. 
 Offals the Critic calls divine ; 
 'Tis these on which he loves to dine. 
 
Garbage to him is toast and tea ; 
 And filth true Sal Volatile. 
 - His blood runs trickling through his veins, 
 When fetid fumes imbue his brains ; 
 Then with delight he spends his hours ; 
 The nauseous most he most devours. 
 
 Like fee, faw, fum, 
 
 Behold him come ! 
 " I smell a fault" is his device ; 
 And every blunder is a pearl of price. 
 
 Authors and Critics, facts attest, 
 
 Are opposite, as east and west. 
 If Critics mangle me, as sure they will, 
 Shall I be angry ? Common sense forbid ! 
 Why make wry faces ? I must gulp the pill. 
 Critics are shining lights, that can't be hid ; 
 Butchers are useful ; calves are born to bleed. 
 Freron said well : butchers themselves must feed. 
 
 You think, perhaps, because I do not grumble, 
 I'm quite a modest creature ! mighty humble ! 
 
8 
 
 What, can you construe all this by the letter ? 
 
 No doubt_, good Sir, you know an Author better. 
 
 Critic and Author both delight to cozen : 
 
 Just six of one, oft 7 other half a dozen. 
 
 Critic must bounce and bluster; that's the law : 
 
 An Author must profess respect, and awe : 
 
 One is all vapour ; t' other much afraid : 
 
 Both parties act according to their trade. 
 
 This is the solemn sacrificing priest ; 
 
 And that the sheepish victim of the feast. 
 
 One way or other, both make vast pretensions : 
 
 You'd think them beings of unheard dimensions ! 
 
 But, though they seem to stand at heaven's portals, 
 
 They eat and drink and sleep, like other mortals. 
 
 Seen at a distance, each appears a god 1 
 
 Approach, both dwindle into flesh and blood. 
 
 Be all things taken at their proper worth, 
 
 I much suspect more phantoms stalk the earth. 
 
 Now to my tale, which, you must know, 
 Will hang but by a thread 
 With what has gone before. 
 
But what of that ? What's said is said. 
 
 I love to saunter as I go. 
 Yes, I must be distinguished from the crowd. 
 If such like liberties are not allowed, 
 Pll take affront, lay down my pen, and write no more. 
 Think not I'll be confined by rule : 
 I'll choose my pace, like ass^ or mule ; 
 Or Bond Street beau, or Piccadilly fop ; 
 Quite at my ease, 
 Just as I please, 
 1*11 yawn, laugh, lounge, or go or stop. 
 
 THE TALE. 
 
 An Author once, who oft had felt 
 The Critic lash, and wish'd to melt 
 The cold hard heart of Doctor Scoggins, 
 Who wholesale dealt in monthly floggings, 
 For, Midas like (floggings are sold) 
 He turnM the rod he touched to gold : 
 An Author, on a certain day, 
 Imagin'd he had found the way 
 
10 
 
 To work a wonder, and induce. 
 If not large praise, at least a truce, 
 From Doctor Scoggins. Thus, intent 
 On this fLie scheme, to work he went : 
 For he, 'tis fit I tell you now, 
 Had money got, no matter how : 
 A Goose he bought, be sure the best 
 
 The market could afford, 
 Stuffed it himself, and saw it dress'd 
 
 To grace great Scoggins' board ; 
 Then, piping hot, the dish well garnish 
 
 In beak of Goose a note : 
 Each phrase as he thought highly van 
 
 The lines to come he wrote : 
 
 " To Doctor Scoggins, LL. D. 
 
 <e A riddle I, and this the key : 
 
 <f Pray take me to your private room, 
 
 " That closet where you write 
 f< Remarks, which all the world illume 
 
 " As much as they delight ; 
 
,11 
 
 " Carve me yourself, send out your valet ; 
 *' Then, if the stuffing please your palate, 
 " My master, thus inspiring mirth, 
 " Will be the happiest man on earth \" 
 The Doctor gaz'd, and read once more, with look 
 As wise as when he best reviewM a book ! 
 Then hemm'd, and scratched a place replete with lore; 
 
 But paus'd these acts between ; 
 And scratched that wise and witty place once more ; 
 
 His well shav'd head I mean : 
 And thrice he scratched, and thrice he hemmed, arid 
 
 then 
 He scratched and hemmM, and hemm'd and scratched 
 
 again ! 
 
 Mysterious was his eye, vacant, yet big ! 
 Mysterious was the twist he gave his wig ! 
 Deep were his cogitations, as profound 
 As when Critique he wrote the most renownM ! 
 " Hum ! Ha ! A strange event ! Quite unforeseen ! 
 " Dark words ! But something they must surely mean, 
 Depend upon't !" 
 
12 
 
 Such were his thoughts : recovering slowly from IUF 
 
 prise, 
 He spoke in phrase as choice and words as wise 
 
 As he was wont : 
 " A puzzling question, by my troth, 
 
 " As ever I have known ! 
 " John, in my study lay the cloth, 
 
 " For I must dine alone : 
 " There take this Goose, with ale, and wine ; 
 " Let no soul enter, till I ring ; 
 " For I must think, as well as dine, 
 " And thinking is a serious thing !" 
 
 The mandate given was soon obeyM : 
 John knew his master, and his trade. 
 
 Except the Muse, now, quite alone, 
 The Doctor, seated on his throne, 
 A cushion and an elbow chair, 
 Muttered of course his dinner prayer : 
 " Lord grant a good digestion \" 
 
13 
 
 Then added, as a needful clause, 
 
 <e Grant understanding for this cause ! 
 
 " For knotty is the question I" 
 Solemn his brow, the carving knife he took ; 
 More wisdom ne'er inspired his ponderous look 
 Than when upon the mystic Goose he gaz'd ; 
 Stomach and curiosity were keen, 
 He cut, and cut, and looked, and, having seen, 
 Awhile he stood entranced, and all amazM ! 
 But, Sir, it was not long before he spoke, 
 When these ejaculations from him broke : 
 
 " What, heavenly powers, do I behold ! 
 " Blest vision ! Is it ? - Is it gold ? 
 " Can it be true ? 'Tis mighty odd ! 
 te What guineas ! Guineas ! Yes, by !" 
 
 The oath he swore I shan't repeat : 
 Whipping has rendered me discreet. 
 An oath, to orthodoxy free, 
 Would here be infidelity ; 
 VOL. i. c 
 
14 
 
 And infidel, if once denounced, 
 Must ever after hang his head : 
 The word is easily pronounc'd, 
 But not so easily unsaid. 
 
 And now, 'tis fit it should be told, 
 Paper had beeu wrapped round the gold, 
 
 In form of a rouleau ; 
 Which paper more advice contained, 
 And to the Doctor thus explained, 
 
 What made him cry Oh ho ! 
 " Dear Doctor, you have read, of old, 
 " That once a Goose laid eggs of gold : 
 
 " Fm of that very breed : 
 " And, should a certain work be found 
 " In erudite remarks profound, 
 
 " A work we greatly need, 
 " Should it be deem'd an acquisition, 
 " And should it reach a new edition, 
 " The second, third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, 
 " Nay, stretch the number, say the eleventh, 
 
15 
 
 " Whene'er you please to be at home, 
 <f My kindred, one by one, shall come 
 " And humbly hope you'll please to eat 'em, 
 " If you with welcome deign to greet 'em." 
 
 The riddle now was fairly out : 
 Nor had the Doctor any doubt, 
 Judging the Author by his spirit, 
 But that his work had sterling merit ! 
 
 The press delivered, out it came ; 
 The Doctor blew the trump of fame : 
 But blew so loud, and blew so long, 
 That, stunn'd and wearied by the song, 
 Some stopped their ears and fell asleep ; 
 Others their temper could not keep, 
 But, by the Doctor thus beguil'd, 
 The critic curs'd, the book revilM ! 
 
 Question. 
 Well, but, the Author had his friends ? 
 
 Answer. 
 Oh, several ! for their private ends. 
 
16 
 
 Question. 
 Pray, who are they who prais'd him most ? 
 
 Ansiver. 
 The Doctor, and the Critic host. 
 
 Question. 
 But why did they for patron preach ? 
 
 Answer. 
 He was a gentleman, and rich ! 
 
 Question. 
 Who found it was a useful book ? 
 
 Ansiver. 
 The Cheesemonger, and Pastry Cook. 
 
 Question. 
 Who else were to the Author civil ? 
 
 Answer. 
 The Printer, and the Printer's Devil. 
 
 Question. 
 Who most befriended his good name ? 
 
 Answer. 
 Oblivion ; bastard son to Fame. 
 
 Question. 
 Another question, ere I halt : 
 
17 
 
 Pray, how could he leave off inditing, 
 Who once had got an itch for writing ? 
 
 Answer. 
 
 Not so I his work laid on the shelf, 
 He turn'd Reviewer, Sir, himself : 
 For, though he could not write to please, 
 No act could he with greater ease 
 
 Perform than that of finding fault. 
 I wish that all our faults were mended : 
 With this fine wish my tale is ended. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Had I but common sense, the fire should purge 
 This tale ; nor should it e'er the Doctor urge 
 To raise his arm, flagellant : for, though weak, 
 Insects like me it crushes ; like as tweak 
 O' th j nose will quell a clamorous bully. 
 Poor fluttering bird! I know my danger, fully! 
 His goggling serpent-eye although I see, 
 His mouth, envenom/d, gaping new for me, 
 Kept at full stretch, prepared for fatal chop, 
 Alas, I can't escape ! no, down I drop ! 
 c 3 
 
18 
 
 Nor think, my friends, that by his slime you'll wind 
 
 him ; 
 
 He hides in holes, where none but reptiles find him, 
 Yet makes pretence to seat himself on throne, 
 And hold the subject lettered world his own, 
 In monarch phrase pronounces WE, OUR, us : 
 Of Brentford king, his edicts are anonymous : 
 Of honesty, or honor, not a spark 
 Can he strike out, although he lives i' the dark : 
 Materials, flint and steel, he can acquire ; 
 But, should his tinder smoke, it can't catch fire. 
 I mean the fire that bursts from gen'rous feeling : 
 Blest flame, unknown to dark and double dealing, 
 When I perchance but catch a gleam of thine, 
 I know no Scoggins ! all is then divine ! 
 
 Nor individual would I now disgrace: 
 
 I aim not at a person, but a race, 
 
 Which Pd exterminate, and introduce 
 
 A different species ; or restore to use 
 
 A maxim truth adopts, to vice unknown 
 
 Man should not act what man would blush to own. 
 
19 
 
 Nor think I aim inquiry to repel : 
 J Tis good, 'tis just, if man would man excel. 
 A sound and liberal Critic, frank and chaste, 
 Who makes no slip of sense, of words no waste ; 
 Who gives no mawkish praise, no wanton thrust, 
 But, if severe, is well informed, and just; 
 Speaks from a love of excellence, and knows 
 No motive but which from that passion flows ; 
 Nor favor courts ; nor worships golden calf; 
 Nor tickles Folly's ear, to make her laugh ; 
 Nor uses means unworthy his high art; 
 Gifted with head well stor'd, and honest heart; 
 That Critic Pll entreat vengeance to wreak 
 On me, whene'er I'm tedious, false, or weak : 
 That Critic, oh, may he but deign to condescend ! 
 Shall be my judge, my guide, my everlasting friend. 
 
KNOW THYSELF. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
KNOW THYSELF. 
 
 TALE II. 
 
 MANY, dear Madam, are my friends ; 
 And, Sir, my readers will be more : 
 I write to make the world amends 
 For all that Folly wrote before. 
 Fm frank : the town will be surpris'd 
 To find my wisdom and my wit so great ! 
 
 Nay, Fm surpris'd myself! 
 And former Authors, or Fm ill advis'd, 
 Will soon I pity much their fate 
 
 Be laid upon the shelf. 
 Fm modest, or, upon this head, 
 More to the purpose might be said. 
 But praise of self? Faugh ! nauseous drug ! 
 I really cannot drink it : 
 
24 
 
 'Tis muscadel in earthen mug: 
 Henceforth I'll only think it. 
 
 Thus much Fve said merely to show 
 How perfectly myself I know. 
 My readers all, I can foretell, 
 Will and do know themselves as well. 
 I'm well aware they'll all be satisfied, 
 But hope they will by no means make 
 
 Strange application 
 Of men., or words ; or aim to guide 
 The wit of others; teaching them to take 
 Hints, which the tale may not advance ; 
 And which to things, perchance, 
 Have no relation. 
 
 THE TALE. 
 
 A tyrant, I forget his name, 
 Twas not Phalaris, though much like him, 
 To put in practice deem'd no shame 
 Whatever whims might chance to strike him : 
 
25 
 
 He thought that misery might concur 
 To make him a philosopher ; 
 And loved, experimentally, 
 The object underneath his eye, 
 Of torture, grief, or penury, 
 The various effects to try. 
 
 So, in these philosophic days, 
 
 Your cat is in receiver put : 
 
 Or living dog dissected lays *, 
 
 While Wisdom, through a glass, surveys 
 
 The peristaltic motion of his gut. 
 
 Our tyrant, in his elbow chair, 
 (I hope we may for truth sake own 
 He sat not always on his throne) 
 Fallen in a moody kind of care, 
 Contemplating the life of man, 
 Which sages say is but a span, 
 
 * Grammar and rhyme here disagree, as they have often 
 done before, for grammar requires lies. 
 VOL. i. D 
 
26 
 
 How precious time, what pity 'twas to lose it, 
 How much the most industrious doth abuse it, 
 
 A sudden thought chanc'd to conceive : 
 (e Were I," said he, " permitted but to live 
 
 " Till this consuming fire, 
 " Which flames and crackles here before me, 
 
 " In dying embers should expire, 
 <c What are the feelings that would then come o'er me?" 
 
 Resolv'd th' experiment to make, 
 
 But not upon himself oh, no ! 
 
 At will, he could a proxy take 
 From any rank, nicknamM the ranks below : 
 
 The self-created tyrant stood 
 (He had it so proclaimed) beyond compare ! 
 For he was wise and virtuous! great and good I 
 Kay, so incomparably good and great, 
 The loss of him were ruin to the state! 
 Thus self-proclaimM are tyrants, every where. 
 
 But proper proxy how to find ? 
 In whom the world might truly see 
 
27 
 
 Himself? his native dignity of mind? 
 
 Himself? Alas, vain hope ! That might not be ! 
 
 His equal, on this peopled earth, 
 He own'd., with all becoming modesty, 
 
 Had never yet had birth ! 
 
 Certain of this, the Pope not more 
 
 Infallible, nor half so much, 
 
 On wing of fame resolved to soar, 
 
 And each extreme of greatness touch, 
 The man, selected as his substitue, 
 Must be as great and good, past all dispute, 
 As the pick'd numerous tribes he rul'd could yield ; 
 That, in his virtues, he might thus, in part, 
 Behold the greater virtues of his own great heart. 
 
 Ah me ! how can this paradox be solved ? 
 
 How can mere mortals thus themselves deceive ? 
 
 In doubt can memory be thus involved ? 
 
 And can a despot truly thus believe ? 
 
 Can Vice in Virtue's name demand reward ? 
 
 Gan it suppose it thus deserves applause? 
 
 D 2 
 
Poetry only can the facts record : 
 Philosophy must find their secret cause 
 
 Now, one who never prompted him to good, 
 The tyrant's known familiar, Envy, waiting stood, 
 Delighted, and alert to take the field. 
 
 A man there was, virtuous and wise, 
 Whose worth the tyrant's rage enflam'd 
 To madness, if he were but nam'd; 
 
 Yet every tongue that worth would recognise. 
 I grant this man with freedom spoke 
 Some truths, that might surmise provoke ; 
 For sweet humanity he lov'd, 
 And all the arts of peace approvM; 
 Nay openly professM to hate 
 
 The broils, and wars, that make earth desolate : 
 When prejudice of nations stood 
 Against their mutual brotherhood, 
 And when he heard the wicked aim 
 
 Such hell-born false and fatal prejudice t* inflame, 
 
29 
 
 And animosities prolong, 
 
 At times like these, 
 I grant this language might be strong : 
 But yet so mild, so temper'd, wise, and just, 
 
 That tyranny itself, I trust, 
 Could never say pernicious 'twas, or wrong ; 
 
 Except, and this is as you please, 
 Praise of the tyrant ne'er escaped his tongue. 
 Could that pass unremarked ? did it no doubts convey ? 
 In rankling memory stor'd, the dark omission lay. 
 
 Aloof the good sage liv'd, nor sought for fame : 
 It came unask'd ; virtue's reward : 
 Nor dreaded he the tyrant's name. 
 Innocence knows not fear : it wants no guard : 
 It thinks it lives encircled by a friendly host : 
 The bosom pure, 
 It deems itself secure 
 Alas ! It often wants a guard the most. 
 
 Tho' not at present on his throne, 
 The tyrant, as I've said, was not alone : 
 D 3 
 
30 
 
 Beside his ill-named easy chair, 
 
 Like pillars for its chief support, 
 
 (Such chairs are common, Sir, at court) 
 
 Envy, and other fiends, were there; 
 
 Hypocrisy, with pallid hue, 
 And Rage, and Cruelty, were of the crew : 
 So constantly did they his beck attend, 
 That each was held his dear and bosom friend. 
 
 You cannot surely, Sir, suppose 
 Inmates like these were indolent ? Oh, no ! 
 Envy, with haggard ringer, points, and shows 
 
 The victim, who to death must go. 
 Hypocrisy was prompt to coin state reasons; 
 But rage and cruelty declared 
 That doubts were treasons, 
 
 Which, if but heard, should meet their due reward ! 
 Suffice it was their master's will ; 
 
 His wise decree, 
 Who could some hidden mischief see; 
 
 No private hate, 
 
 But secrets secrets, Sir, of State : 
 Pray what are they to you, or me ? 
 
31 
 
 Britain except, select and sacred ground, 
 These most accurs'd State secrets every where are 
 found. 
 
 Well, well ; suppose the Sage before the fire ; 
 
 Suppose him told that he must die 
 What time the last frail ember shall expire ; 
 
 Suppose you see the tyrant try 
 
 To watch each act, each word, each look, each thought, 
 The dire decree, when told, must needs awaken; 
 The passions, which to life must then be brought : 
 From human sympathy suppose him free ; 
 Suppose that strange inflated vanity 
 
 By which he deems 
 He shall not, for he cannot, be mistaken : 
 
 Imagine his sagacious dreams 
 On all the strong emotions of the Sage ; 
 The wild ungovernable rage 
 In which he must begin to curse ; 
 
 His sorrow, his despair, 
 And most of all the ardent anxious care 
 With which the dying fatal fire he'll nurse. 
 
Yes, by the tyrant, this was all supposed, 
 And more, much more, than I can now remember, 
 As o'er his mind's black offspring thus he dozM 
 Brats of a foggy dark forlorn November, 
 
 Or worse, if worse they might ; 
 Born in eclipse, begot in murky night. 
 He little knew the man, 
 Whom he to death had doomed ; 
 Whom arrogantly thus he had presumed 
 So easily to scan ! 
 
 Firm stood the Sage, unawed, his guards between : 
 No mark of fear might on his brow be seen, 
 No native weakness, no solicitude ; 
 No effort made approaching death t' elude : 
 Calm were his words ; collected was his look : 
 Though ruthless, yet, the tyrant inward shook ; 
 When wisdom, in his presence calPd t' appear, 
 Pronounced the awful sounds that struck his ear. 
 
 ee Wretched mortal ! Deeply I pity men ! 
 " Deeply I pity thee ! nor think, that, whea 
 
33 
 
 Cf Useful and sacred truths I would convey, 
 
 (f I seek a selfish vent to smotherM rage : 
 
 <e Where is the State, or when the golden age, 
 
 te That hi*s not been of tyranny the prey ? 
 
 (f Strange the vicissitude of weal and woe ! 
 
 " Long hast thou scourg'd mankind ; yet who can 
 
 know 
 
 " The date of thy existence ? Canst thou say 
 " That thou thyself shalt yet outlive the day ? 
 " The power, usurped by thee, is not thy own ; 
 " Opinion first supports the monarch's throne : 
 " It stands established on respect, and love : 
 " These are its holy guardians ! All beside 
 (f Is swept from sight, by the returning tide 
 te Which in opinion rages, to reprove 
 " Th' increasing, wicked, wanton, mass of guilt; 
 " The dreadful seas of blood that thou hast spilt; 
 ff To give stability, and make secure 
 " That pow'r which chance, leagued with confusion, 
 
 gave. 
 " Weak man, that deemMst thyself most wise, most 
 
 brave, 
 
34 
 
 " Most prudent ; with instinct fitted t' allure 
 
 " False fortune to thy arms ; vaunting that she, 
 
 " To all uncertain, faithful is to thee ! 
 
 " What human pow'r is permanent ? Or when 
 
 " Did pois'd stability belong to men ? 
 
 " When pigmy man no more with man contends, 
 
 " But Fate her swift-wing'd shaft unerring sends, 
 
 " Feeble alike the foolish and the wise, 
 
 " Say, mortal, canst thou thus the truth disguise ! 
 
 " Thyself thus from thyself canst thou conceal ? 
 
 ' ' Is recollection lost ? Canst thou not feel 
 
 Thou'rt but a thought ? that life is but a breath ; 
 
 <( In wretchedness begun, ending in death ? 
 
 " But, grant thou shouldst escape, grant that thy crime 
 
 " Offend not Heaven, grant such to be the times, 
 
 " Which sink and groan beneath thy vandal yoke, 
 
 fc No wrongs can rouse, no insults can provoke, 
 
 " Grant those thou proudly shouldst appoint to reign 
 
 " Able to act all that thou shouldst ordain ; 
 
 " At this I laugh, but, grant that they might be 
 " Fam/d for their vice, miraculous, like thee, 
 
35 
 
 " In arts that demons, haply, might befit 
 
 <e What, hast thou ne'er possessed the sum of wit 
 
 " To know that happiness and virtue, twins of Heaven, 
 
 " Are never to the sons of discord given ? 
 
 " That these are all a mortal can desire ? 
 
 " That wisdom is their lov'd and honored Sire ? 
 
 " That wants, in this blest family, are few ? 
 
 " That power in them is vested ? 'tis their due ! 
 
 " That on their basis, and on that alone, 
 
 " Can sovereignty erect a stedfast throne? 
 
 " Deeming the dignity befits thy state, 
 
 " Thou frown'st contempt, and sufFer'st me to prate : 
 
 (t Affecting smiles, thy glance surveys the fire ; 
 
 " Thine eye bids mine take note 'twill soon expire. 
 
 " Frail minded man! to thee perhaps is known 
 
 " As little of my fate as of thy own ! 
 
 " Accidents yet unthought might intervene, 
 
 " And differently indeed conclude the scene." 
 
 Strange are the events of life ! ay, passing strange ! 
 While thus unconsciously the Sage 
 
Discoursed of chance, as possible, and change, 
 
 Prophetic was his speech ! 
 
 Hark ! distant murmurs reach 
 The tyrant's ear ! 
 
 Blanch'd are his cheeks with fear ! 
 Howling and wild, mad in tempestuous rage, 
 
 Ten thousand tongues the tyrant name ! 
 
 Ten thousand tongues at once exclaim 
 " Dethrone ! Dethrone ! Dethrone ! 
 
 " Revenge your wrongs ! Revenge the dead ! 
 " Ample revenge be on the tyrant's head, 
 " Under \vhose yoke no longer will we groan !" 
 
 At this event, 
 
 Though sudden, none were much surprised; 
 Though mad he had been call'd, or impotent, 
 That half an hour before had but surmis'd 
 
 The tyrant sat not quite secure: 
 " He knew/' what never had been known before, 
 " He knew the way to make his power endure !'" 
 
 But, now, the crisis o'er, 
 There was nor calf, nor goose, nor ass, 
 
37 
 
 Among the mob I mean, 
 That had not perfectly foreseen 
 
 All that had come to pass. 
 When it had happened, great and small, 
 ^Foolish and wise, were prophets all. 
 
 As for the Sage, 
 
 Who spurnM at tyranny and passion, 
 To which he nobly scorn'd to stoop, 
 The glory of his country and his age, 
 To him they would have given turtle soup ; 
 
 But he refus'd to eat it, 
 And turtle soup went out of fashion. 
 Oh, had you seen how he was treated ! 
 \yhy, Sir, the city went half mad, 
 To think he was so wise, 
 
 And they so glad ! 
 His name resounded to the skies ! 
 'Twas heard in every song ! 
 
 Great was his praise ! 
 It lasted some say fifteen days 1 
 Perhaps, it was not quite so long, 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
THE 
 
 ORIGIN OF THE ALPHABET; 
 
 Oft, 
 
 GENIUS AND COMMON SENSE. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
THE 
 
 ORIGIN OF THE ALPHABET} 
 
 OR, 
 
 GENIUS AND COMMON SENSE, 
 
 TALE III. 
 
 IN oral songs, and times of old, 
 Genius and Common Sense, we're told. 
 
 Were twins, born of one mother; 
 And through the yet half-peopled land 
 They strayM together, hand in hand, 
 
 As brother would with brother. 
 
 * 
 
 Oft entertaining rash desire, 
 Genius indulged his native fire, 
 But Common Sense restrained him : 
 3 
 
42 
 
 Confiding in his strength of wing, 
 When he from dangerous heights would spring, 
 His brother's arm detained him. 
 
 Sometimes, to wild vagaries prone, 
 He'd banter Jove, e'en on his throne,. 
 
 Olympian nectar quaffing : 
 Though rashness had the Gods defied, 
 Yet, fear of wounding worthy Pride 
 
 Kept Common Sense from laughing. 
 
 <e To paltry fears, and dastard, hence!" 
 Cried Genius, warning Common Sense ; 
 
 Each other thus inspiring : 
 And, when for risk good cause they saw, 
 To aid each other was the law, 
 
 Some noble deed desiring 
 
 Genius his visions would relate, 
 And forms fantastic would create, 
 While Common Sense would listen : 
 
43 
 
 Till haply prospect great, and new, 
 Arose before th' astonished view, 
 And then his eye would glisten. 
 
 Mighty the thought ! mighty the deed ! 
 Genius the sons of men would feed ! 
 
 Glorious the prize he captur'd ! 
 The horse first taught the neck to bow, 
 Then into being call'd the plough, 
 
 And Common Sense enraptured ! 
 
 Incessant were his deeds divine : 
 
 He press'd the grape, and brought forth wine ! 
 
 Watchful of wants distressing, 
 Bewailing man's half-naked doom, 
 Wond'rous bequest, he gave the loom I 
 
 That great that heavenly blessing ! 
 
 T 
 
 Knowledge could only purchase ease ; 
 He bad men navigate the seas : 
 Each element his servant, 
 
44 
 
 That bent before his potent will, 
 
 Yielding to his behests, they still 
 
 Were of his laws observant. 
 
 All obstacles would he surmount, 
 He taught mankind the stars to count, 
 
 And weigh worlds with each other ! 
 Nor e'er did gracious Heaven dispense 
 Pleasure more pure, than Common Sense 
 
 Took in his godlike brother ! 
 
 And Common Sense not less reverM 
 By Genius was ; his voice was heard ; 
 
 Mutual was their intention : 
 Each pressing want would they survey, 
 And Common Sense oft led the way 
 
 To many a new invention. 
 * 
 
 Nor through all time, as some assert, 
 From Genius did he once revert; 
 Too well they lovM each pther : 
 
45 
 
 Those wild disordered whims, that rise, 
 Which he for ever must despise, 
 Are by a bastard brother. 
 
 He views the works, surveys the cares 
 Of Genius, for in them he shares ; 
 
 He wishes them divided. 
 Still doth he find those works sublime ; 
 For much in Genius, leagued with Time, 
 
 Hath Common Sense confided. 
 
 To give his brother needful rest, 
 He one day Genius thus addressed : 
 
 " If thou couldst but discover . 
 " Some means to fix the fleeting though^, 
 " Which back to memory might be brought, 
 
 " Thy labours half were over. 
 
 " My thoughts preserved ! My labors eajs'd ! 
 * f Yes," Genius cried, and strait was seiz'd 
 The precious hint, as giv'n: 
 
46 
 
 The motive might invention whet : 
 He thought ! Up rose the Alphabet, 
 And joy was felt in heav'n ! 
 
 Thou, precious youth, the fav'rite son 
 Of Genius, scarcely hast begun 
 
 Thy race, already glorious ! 
 Death and Oblivion we/e the foes 
 Of thy great father ; now, who knows 
 
 But thou mayst prove victorious ! 
 
THE DECLINE OF WIT; 
 
 THE POET'S REGRET. 
 
THE DECLINE OF WITj 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE POETS REGRET. 
 
 TALE IV. 
 
 WIT once was known a blithsome boy, 
 A rosy youth right full of glee ; 
 
 The cot or palace was his own, 
 Where none so welcome was as he. 
 
 Behind his back, a budget fraught 
 With many a trick and many a tale 
 
 He lightly bore, with jocund heart, 
 And sung adown the flowery dale. 
 
 The pleasaunce of his pearly cheeks, 
 
 His glances shot on every side ; 
 VOL. i. F 
 
50 
 
 His skips and bounds, and frolic leaps, 
 Bespoke a heart that care defied. 
 
 'Mong high-born dames, and ladies fair, 
 And lords and earls and barons bold, 
 
 More welcome he than April suns, 
 His geer more precious far than gold. 
 
 Sometimes he calPd himself a bard, 
 And then of strifeful combats sung ; 
 
 Sometimes a minstrel, and his harp 
 With some old legend loudly rung. 
 
 And then, anon, a Troubadour, 
 
 To love he tun'd his voice so sweet, 
 
 Till souls have melted at his song, 
 And lords have died at ladies' feet. 
 
 If he in playful mood were seen, 
 Infants would in his bosom creep j 
 
 Or if some tragic tale he told, 
 The roughest warrior there would weep. 
 
51 
 
 And never was in clamour drown'd 
 That voice so various in delight ; 
 
 The lips were curs'd that gave him let, 
 For all hearts yearn'd to do him right. 
 
 Full oft the servitor has stopt, 
 Arrested in the midway hall : 
 
 Struck by the magic of his tongue, 
 The ringing vessel down would fall. 
 
 And every window still wao throng'd 
 With village boor and tip-toe hind : 
 
 ^With anxious crowds of listening maids 
 Each door and avenue were lin'd. 
 
 Then who so honor'd, so belov'd! 
 
 Then who so happy ! who so gay I 
 He rovM away the summer morn, 
 
 He sung the wintry night away. 
 
 Each wish was his, each fruit and flower, 
 No gift for him too good might be : 
 F 2 
 
52 
 
 No gem too bright for him to wear; 
 For then, alas! 'twas who but he? 
 
 He stood not, then, in tatter'd weeds, 
 An humble suppliant in the hall ; 
 
 He waited not with front debas'd 
 
 Till Pride contemptuous pleas'd to call. 
 
 He chose not, then, the by-way path, 
 To hide himself from taunting eyes : 
 
 He then was held a god ! while, now. 
 Part pity him, but most despise. 
 
 Ah, ancient days of deep regret I 
 Ah, golden times ! where are you fled ? 
 
 Who, now, the welcome mansion keeps, 
 Where Wit may rest his weary head ? 
 
 Who, now, with eager prayer shall court, 
 Or pay with ample praise the song; 
 
 Who shall his high deserts repeat, 
 Or the loud plaudit now prolong ? 
 
53 
 
 In some poor hut he's forc'd to dwell, 
 While Impudence usurps his name, 
 
 Writes rhyme, and paragraph, a^d pun, 
 Intrigues, and puffs himself to fame. 
 
 F 3 
 
POLITENESS ; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CAT O' NINE TAILS. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
POLITENESS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE CAT 0' NINE TAILS. 
 
 TALE V. 
 
 ONCE on a time, as Fve heard say, 
 (I neither know the year nor day) 
 The rain distilPd from many a cloud, 
 The night was dark, the wind blew loud : 
 A country 'squire, without a guide, 
 Where roads were bad and heath was wide, 
 Attended by his servant Jerry, 
 Was travelling tow'rd the town of Bury. 
 
 The 'squire had ne'er been bred in courts j 
 But yet was held, as Fame reports, 
 
58 
 
 Though he to wit made no pretence, 
 A 'squire of manly common sense. 
 
 Jerry, who could not courage boast, 
 Thought every sheep he saw a ghost, 
 And most devoutly pray'd he might 
 Escape the terrors of that night. 
 
 As they approachM the common's side, 
 A peasant's cottage they espied ; 
 There, riding up, our weary 'squire 
 Held it most prudent to inquire, 
 Being nothing less than wet to skin, 
 Where he might find a wholesome inn ? 
 
 e No inns there are/ replied the clown, 
 ' Twixt this and yonder market-town, 
 ' Seven miles Nor-west, across the heath ; 
 ' And wind and rain are in your teeth : 
 ' But, if so be, Sir, you will go 
 ' To yon old hall, upon the brow, 
 
59 
 ** 
 
 ' You'll find free entertainment there, 
 * Down beds and rare old English fare, 
 ' Of beef and mutton, fowl and fish, 
 ' As good as any man need wish ; 
 ' Warm stabling, too, and corn, and hay ; 
 ' Yet not a penny will you pay. 
 
 ' 'Tis true, Sir, I have heard it said, 
 
 {And here he grinn'd and scratched his head) 
 
 * The gentleman, that keeps the house, 
 ' Though jokes and freedom he allows, 
 
 * And o'er night is so woundy civil, 
 
 * You'd swear he never dreamt of evil, 
 9 Orders, next morn, his servant John, 
 ' With cat o' nine tails, to lay on 
 
 * Full twenty strokes, most duly counted, 
 
 ' On man and master, ere they're mounted.' 
 
 " With cat o' nine tails ! Oh !" cried Jerry, 
 " That I were safe at Edmund's Bury \" 
 
60 
 
 Our 'squire spurr'd on, as clown directed ; 
 This offer might not be rejected : 
 Poor Jerry's prayers could not dissuade ; 
 The 'squire, more curious than afraid, 
 Arrives, and rings ; the footman runs ; 
 The master, with his wife and sons, 
 Descend the hall, they bid him enter ; 
 Give him dry clothes, and beg he'll venture 
 To take a gjass of Cogniac brandy : 
 And he, who hated words to bandy 
 In idle complimentary speeches, 
 The brandy took, and eke the breeches. 
 
 The liquor drunk, the garments changed, 
 The family round the fire arrang'd. 
 The mistress begg'd to know if he 
 Chose coffee, chocolate, or tea ? 
 The 'squire replied, sans hesitation, 
 Or teasing trite expostulation 
 <" A dish of coffee and a toast !" 
 
61 
 
 The mistress smil'd : th' enraptur'd host 
 Cried, ' Sir, I like your frankness much ; 
 f This house is yours ; pray think it such 
 ' While here you stay; 'tis my request, 
 
 * And you shall be a \velcome guest ! 
 
 * Sans ceremony I would live, 
 
 ' And what I have I freely give/ 
 
 Tea ended, once again our host 
 
 Demanded ' Sir, of boil'd or roast, 
 
 ' Fish, flesh, or fowl, do you prefer 
 
 ' For supper?' " Why, indeed, good Sir, 
 
 " Roast duck I love." ' With good green pease ?' 
 
 " Yes, dearest Madam, if you please. 
 
 ' Well said ! Now while it's getting ready, 
 
 * We two, my eldest son, and lady, 
 
 ' Will take a hand at whist ?' " Agreed !"j 
 And soon they cut for deal, and lead. 
 
 But now, to crimp my lengthened tale, 
 Whether the 'squire drank wine or ale, 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
62 
 
 Or how he slept, or what he said, 
 Or how much gave to man or maid ; 
 Or what the while became of Jerry, 
 'Mong footmen blithe and maidens merry, 
 Description here we can't admit, 
 For ' brevity's the soul of wit.' 
 
 Suffice to say, the morn arrived, 
 Jerry, of senses half deprived, 
 Horses from stable saw led out, 
 Trembled, and stalk'd, and peer'd about* 
 And felt already every thwack 
 Of cat o' nine tails, on his back. 
 Each word, each action, was a blunder : 
 But, oh, how great his joy, and wonder, 
 The stirrups held, the horses crossed, 
 When forth the hostess, and the host, 
 With smiles, instead of lashes smarting, 
 Come out to take a cup at parting; 
 Bestowing a thousand welcomes on 'em, 
 Unfeign'd, for all the honor done 'em ! 
 
63 
 
 Of thanks, what Language could afford ; 
 
 Of cat o* nine tails, not a word ! 
 
 
 Mutual civilities repaid, 
 
 The 'squire had turn'd his horse's head, 
 
 To gallop off; yet his desire 
 
 Grew every moment higher and higher, 
 
 While bidding thus his last adieu, 
 
 To ask if what he'ad heard were true ? 
 
 For not alone the clown had said 
 
 The reckoning must in stripes be paid, 
 
 But one o* th' footmen, whom he slily 
 
 O'er night interrogated, drily 
 
 Confirmed the aforesaid peasant's tale, 
 
 And said his master would not fail, 
 
 Next morn, to bid, in furious passion, 
 
 Strong John lay twenty times the lash on. 
 
 Determined, then, to ease his doubt, 
 E'en tho' it bred a flogging bout ; 
 (Of that, howe'er, to be sincere, 
 He was not very much in fear ;) 
 G 2 
 
64 
 
 Once morfc he turn'd his horse's head, 
 And to his host thus, smiling, said 
 
 <c Last night, a peasant told me, here, 
 
 (( As I have found, was noble cheer ; 
 
 <e But added, ere this morn I went, 
 
 " You'd drub me to my heart's content ; 
 
 " Yet this you have not put in act : 
 
 <e Is it a fiction, or a fact, 
 
 Cf After the kindness you've expressed, 
 
 fe You take your leave thus of each guest ? 
 
 <e And how, if still a rule you've kept it, 
 
 et Have I deserv'd to be excepted ?" 
 
 ' Sir/ answered he, ' 'tis very true* 
 f No stranger e'er went hence, but you, 
 f Who bore not, on his well-carv'd bark, 
 f Of cat o' nine tails many a mark. 
 ' None yet deserv'd, or I'm mistaken, 
 ' That I should pity, and spare their bacon : 
 ' A set of tiresome troublesome knaves; 
 c Of bowing, fawniug, lying, slaves ! 
 
65 
 
 ' Should a man ask what they prefer, 
 
 " Oh, I love any thing, good Sir 1" 
 
 ' Would you choose coffee, Sir, or tea?' 
 
 " Dear Ma'am, it's all the same to me!" 
 
 ' For beef or mutton give your voice :' 
 
 <f Upon my honor, I've no choice!" 
 
 ' There's Cheshire, Sir, and Gloster cheese ; 
 
 f Which shall I send you ?' " Which you please.' 
 
 * Curse on their cringing complaisance ! 
 
 ' I've tutor'd some of them to dance 
 
 ' Such steps as they ne'er learnt in France. 
 
 ' But you, good Sir, or I misdeem, 
 
 ' Deserve an honest man's esteem. 
 
 ' Your frankness, Sir, I call polite ; 
 
 ' I never spent a happier night ; 
 
 ' And, whensoe'er this road you come, 
 
 ' I hope you'll make my house your home : 
 
 ' Nay, more; I likewise hope, henceforth, 
 
 ' To rank a man of so much worth 
 
 ' Among my friends ' 
 
 " Sir," said the 'squire, 
 " Tis what I ardently desire : 
 
 G3 
 
66 
 
 ef Not twenty miles from hence my bourse, 
 " At which your sons, yourself, and spouse, 
 " Shall find such hospitality 
 " As kindly here you've shown to me." 
 
 The bargain struck, the 'squire and Jerry 
 Again proceed for town of Bury. 
 
 And now the reader may, with ease* 
 Extract this moral if he please : 
 Politeness cannot e'er become 
 Impertinent and troublesome ; 
 His breeding good he soonest proves, 
 Who soonest tells you what he loves ; 
 And who, in rapid eloquence, 
 Their wordy compliments dispense, 
 Have more civility than sense. 
 
THE OWL AND THE HOWL; 
 
 THE ARTICLE A AND THE LETTER H. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
THE OWL AND THE HOWL; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE ARTICLE A AND THE LETTER IL 
 
 TALE VI. 
 
 A QUARREL has arisen lately, 
 
 Between two mighty potentates, 
 Which puzzled has the Sages greatly, 
 Meanwhile to fools it mirth creates : 
 Article A, of ancient race, 
 Asserts that H mistakes its place, 
 And often changes A to an, 
 Misleading many an honest man : 
 While H, a grave and learned Don, 
 Swears he's accountable to none, 
 For A or an's promiscuous use ; 
 Nor will he authorize abuse 
 
70 
 
 Of his good name. But A replies, 
 Shameful the practice is, and cries 
 Aloud i* th* ear of Common Sense 
 To put an end to such offence. 
 
 And now, to make impression due 
 
 On Signor H, he thus anew, 
 
 In friendly terms, attempts to show 
 
 Those truths he thinks the world should know. 
 
 i 
 
 Some pedagogues, I own, agree, 
 That you are a nonentity : 
 Such doctrine Englishmen must scout ; 
 While hearing it you laugh, no doubt ; 
 For only pedants, boys, and fools, 
 Form. English speech on Latin rules. 
 Then, if a letter, you are heard : 
 H is to hip like b to beard. 
 
 A, Sir, is a, and an is an. 
 
 Now foreigner, or ign'rant man, 
 
71 
 
 Should know, from way in which I'm put., 
 
 If H be aspirate, or not. 
 
 A not bath ( I ) can't a hot bath mean ; 
 
 A Nood (2), a Now, give one the spleen ; 
 
 A Hood, a Howe, ne'er met disgrace, 
 
 Having an enemy to face. 
 
 I hear you talking of a novel (3), 
 
 How should I think you mean a hovel ? 
 
 Or dream, while you describe a wo (4), 
 
 It is your garden tool, a hoe ? 
 
 Sir, when you tell me of a nook (5), 
 
 How can I think you mean a hook ? 
 
 Describing a not headed man (6) 
 
 I stand confus'd, by your curs'd an. 
 
 A nose^l) means stocking, and a now (8) 
 
 Not adverb, time, but manner, how ! 
 
 ( 1 ) An hot bath. (5) An hook. 
 
 (2) An Hood, aa Howe. (6) An hot headed. 
 
 (3) An hovel. (7) An hose. 
 
 (4) An hoe. (8) An how. 
 
72 
 
 A nozier (9) should you say you want, 
 Unletter'd Dick will bring a plant : 
 Should you demand a nog, a nitch(lQ), 
 Can he suppose 'tis hog and hitch ? 
 Telling of a pain, that's in a nip ( 1 1 ) 
 How can he think you mean your hip? 
 If you should chance to buy a Horace ( 1 2), 
 You talk to me of poet Norris ! 
 I deem, when you a notter(\3) say, 
 You mean a beast, not a hot day. 
 Sir, when you would describe a night (14), 
 To me 'tis darkness; 'tis not height. 
 A nellish man (15), Nell says, is good : 
 Bat hellish man is understood. 
 You bought your poultry of a Higgler (16) ? 
 Who told you so ? He was a higgler. 
 
 (9) An hosier, (13) An hotter. 
 
 (10) An hog, an hitch. (14) An height. 
 
 (11) An hip. (15) An hellish. 
 
 (12) An Horace. (16) An higgler. 
 
73 
 
 A nay stack (17), means a hay stack : nay, 
 In ear of ass, may stand for hay. 
 A numorist (IB), can cut a joke ! 
 A numerist can cast up figures : 
 When Englishmen good English spoke, 
 J Twas humorist - 
 
 " Odds guns and triggers ! 
 " While thus the changes you are ringing, 
 ( * New-fangled fashions you would bring in." 
 
 By no means : Pd restore the old, 
 
 And not by pedagogue be told 
 
 " Observe the sense, and not the sight; 
 
 " Thus you must speak, but thus must write : 
 
 " A Vandal once was heard to brag 
 
 " He 'ad kilFd a Nun (19), and kiss'd a nag (20), 
 
 " And, in a month, for warmth and prog, 
 
 <e Had thatch'd a nut(2\), and eat a nog (22). 
 
 (17) An hay stack. (20) An hag. 
 
 (18) An humorist. (21) An hut. 
 
 (19) An Hun. (22) An hog. 
 VOL. I. M 
 
74 
 
 " Don't write Hungarian was hungered ; 
 
 " But a Nungarian was a nungered (23) ; 
 
 " And how, he being a nussar (24), 
 
 " He cut of many a ned (25), in war. 
 
 " In India there has lately been 
 
 " A nurricane (26). " ' Sir ! What do you mean I* 
 
 " Mean ! Can my meaning be more plain ? 
 
 e ' A nurricane 9 s a nurricane ! 
 
 " A nuffish Sir (27) wont take affronts, man ! 
 
 " My father's rich, and keeps a nuntsman (28) ! 
 
 " And, Sir, a Hospitable (29) person 
 
 " A nurt (30) in sentiment thinks worse on 
 
 " Than"' I'm sorry, Sir, that I have flurried 
 
 " I'm peevish, Sir, when I'm a nurried (31) / 
 
 <f A naunted (32) house, mine aunt doth say, 
 
 " Will drive a Habitant (33) away. 
 
 (23) An Hungarian was an hungered. 
 
 (24) An hussar. (29) An hospitable. 
 
 (25) An head. (30) An hurt. 
 
 (26) An hurricane. (31) An hurry. 
 
 (27) An huffish. (22) An haunted. 
 
 (28) An huntsman. (33) An habitant. 
 
75 
 
 " Here! Fellow! Cobbler! How d'ye do? 
 " Pray put a neel piece (34-) to my shoe. 
 " A nolly (35) bring me, Dick, for see 
 * f A nound(36) has jumpt on the settee I 
 " He in a nop ground (37) just has been 
 " A nunting (38) of a nostile (3Q) quean : 
 " I mean a norse ; that is, a mare." 
 
 With equal ease and little care, 
 
 In this loose manner of narration, 
 
 Or in still looser conversation, 
 
 I could continue thus to show, 
 
 What all the world must surely know, 
 
 How you, my old friend H, have errM 
 
 In use of me, arid have preferred, 
 
 Fearing hiatus, an to a : 
 
 But I will nothing further say, 
 
 (34) An heel piece. (37) An hop ground. 
 
 (35) An holly stick. (38) An hunting. 
 
 (36) An hound. (39) An hostile. 
 
 H 2 
 
 
 
76 
 
 Except to tell a tale, and prove 
 How it doth Common Sense behove 
 Rightly to write, and rightly speak ; 
 My cause is good, my words are weak. 
 
 THE TALE. 
 
 A country 'squire, who had a son> 
 That through his grammar course had run, 
 SwelFd with conceit, of learning proud, 
 In argument pert, pettish, loud, 
 Who frothy language could declaim, 
 And all the parts of speech could name, 
 Yet could not understand of words 
 Much more than cows do of their curds, 
 Who thought the man not learned in Lilly 
 Must be damn'd fool ! damn'd bore! damnM silly! 
 Who deem'd the end of speech obtained 
 If prosody were well explained, 
 This cub, who on a day had been 
 As far, perhaps, as Turnham Green 
 From where I write, 2, Berner's Street, 
 With an adventure chahc'd to meet, 
 
77 
 
 And running, to his father came 
 
 A man of sense, though much to blame 
 
 For not considering education, 
 
 But stocking thus with fools the nation. 
 
 The teeth of son were seen to chatter : 
 
 The father cried, " Hey ! What's the matter?" 
 
 The bljood returning to his cheek, 
 
 These words were heard, when he could speak. 
 
 ' Pve run till Pm quite out of breath ! 
 ' For I was frightened on the heath : 
 ' I heard an owl, as I came by !' 
 
 Well! What of that ? 
 
 ' It was the cry 
 ' Of wicked murder as I fear'd !' 
 
 < Pshaw ! What ? Because an owl you heard ?" 
 H 3 
 
78 
 
 ' Durst I but go, I should rejoice ! 
 ' Fm sure it was a woman's voice/ 
 
 " How should an owl have voice of woman ? 
 " Run back, take courage, call halloo, man ! 
 " The owl will, when he hears halloo, 
 " Be scar'd almost as much as you/' , 
 
 * Lord ! what do you mean ? I've been to school ! 
 
 ' Pray do not take me for a fool ? 
 
 ( I was not talking of an owl, 
 
 ' But what the vulgar call a howL* 
 
 " A howl ! A woman's life in danger ! 
 " Pedant accurs'd ! to sense a stranger ! 
 " Wasting the precious moments so ! 
 " She may be kill'd for aught you know ! 
 *' Won't call a howl a howl! Damn'd elf! 
 " You are a stupid owl yourself!" 
 
79 
 
 ' Pm sure for all your angy looks, 
 ' Pve always read it so in books/ 
 
 " Damn books ! How can you prating stay ? 
 " Be quick ! run forward ! show the way ! 
 
 Hoping the bound might be released, 
 
 Pitchfork and oaken towel seized, 
 
 They ran, with honest anxious speed, 
 
 But found the living woman freed, 
 
 Tho' not till first the thieves had stript her ; 
 
 Except, they left enough to shift her. 
 
 Thieves tho' they were, to decent sense 
 They chose to make a small pretence. 
 I wish that each box-lobby beau 
 But thus much decency would show ! 
 I wish rapacious statesmen, sinning, 
 Would leave Britannia but her linen ! 
 
80 
 
 Since Common Sense may be abusM, 
 
 And risk incurred, by fool confusM, 
 
 Since pedant, held in pedant fetters, 
 
 Cannot divine the use of letters, 
 These things now known, henceforth, be't held a rule, 
 Whoever errs signs pedant, or signs fool. 
 
THE BEGGAR'S HATS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE WAY TO GET RICH. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
THE BEGGAR'S HATS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE WAY TO GET RICH. 
 
 TALE VII. 
 
 IN Florence, once, a signior dwelt, 
 Who Fortune's favors erst had felt ; 
 But, while too fast her wheel she whirl'd, 
 He giddy grew, and headlong hurPd, 
 From her high slippery spoke was he, 
 Down to the pit of Poverty ; 
 Which was so deep, he 'gan to doubt 
 If e'er again he could get out. 
 
 Beside, the phantom HONOR came, 
 Forbidding him, in HONOR'S name, 
 
84 
 
 Plebeian use of hands magnific, 
 
 Or digits ten to make prolific 
 
 In action of ignoble sort, 
 
 Which might degrade his rank at court ; 
 
 Declaring trade was worse than Turk, 
 
 And bade him rather starve than work : 
 
 While INDOLENCE cried out, ' 'Twere treason, 
 
 ' To think that HONOR wanted reason ; 
 
 ' For, so illustrious was his blood, 
 
 ' 'T had noble been before the flood ; 
 
 ' And, like to stagnant lake, had bubbled 
 
 ' Offensive stench, if e'er 'twas troubled. 
 
 * More honorable it were to beg, 
 
 * Pull off his cap, and make a leg 
 ' Not to a mortal ; that were horrid I 
 
 * But he might bow his noble forehead, 
 f And yet not give his pride a purging, 
 ' Before a certain Blessed Virgin, 
 
 ' Who from a post was lately cut, 
 
 e And in convenient corner put, 
 
 ' To hear petitions, and receive 
 
 * As much as people pleased to leave. 
 
85 
 
 This reasoning was so very good 
 It might not eas'ly be withstood : 
 He therefore vow'd, as was expedient, 
 To be for evermore obedient ; 
 To listen meekly when she chid him, 
 And do whatever she pleas'd to bid him. 
 In which last points, most folks allow, 
 H ne'er was known to break his vow. 
 Thus resting for support upon her, 
 He pleasM both INDOLENCE and HONOR. 
 
 Hory Madona's high renown, 
 
 Through ma"ny a fair Italian town, 
 
 Was great ; for pearls she had abundant, 
 
 Flounces and furbelows redundant ; 
 
 Sacques, gowns, hoops, petticoats, and smocks, 
 
 Ear-rings, gauze caps, and powder'd locks ; 
 
 LacM shoes, fring'd garters ; and, that she 
 
 Might, tout a fait, in fashion be, 
 
 Each check was daub'd with red and white, 
 
 Like dowager's by candle-light. 
 
 YOL. 1. I 
 
86 
 
 Nay, more our wonder to bespeak, 
 
 She chang'd her linen once a week ! 
 
 Tho' this was thought, throughout the nation, 
 
 A work of supererogation, 
 
 Much too sublime for imitation, 
 
 For cleanliness is so uncommon, 
 
 *Tis useless held, in man or woman. 
 
 She was withal so monstrous chaste, 
 
 Virtue was buckled round her waist : 
 
 E'en Monks themselves, it had been said, 
 
 Could not purloin her maidenhead ; 
 
 Beside, the miracles she wrought 
 
 Were more than some folks could have thought; 
 
 Nay, were they not affirm'd by Friars, 
 
 You'd swear the publishers were liars : 
 
 But he t j eternity shall fry, 
 
 Who thinks a Friar's lips can lie. 
 
 Our signior, as we said before, 
 Proud, indolent, and very poor, 
 
87 
 
 Became a vot'ry at her shrine, 
 
 In hope she'd seriously incline 
 
 To hear his fervent flattering speeches, 
 
 And be so good to grant him riches : 
 
 Each morn, betimes, he trotted, fasting, 
 
 And promisM homage everlasting, 
 
 With sprinklings, crossings, genuflections, 
 
 Would she but deign to take directions 
 
 From him, a blind and silly sinner, 
 
 And grant, at least, each day a dinner. 
 
 But, somehow, this hard-hearted maid 
 Ne'er listened to a word he said; 
 But unconcernM remained, and mum, 
 As though she had been deaf and dumb : 
 Not all his prayers and pious bustle 
 Could ever make her move a muscle; 
 As mute she stood, when urg'd the most, 
 As if she still had been a post! 
 And was so sparing of her favor, 
 The signior's faith began to waver ; 
 i 2 
 
88 
 
 Till his backsliding soul had fear 
 She would not, or she could not, hear. 
 
 In Florence, thus, as well as London, 
 The soul subdued by body mundane, 
 Has found it difficult to b'lieve 
 Doctrines it never could conceive : 
 Nay is, at times, inclined to doubfc 
 What fools alone can doubt about. 
 
 Our story soon will make it clear 
 His faith had little cause of fear. 
 
 His beads to drop, his prayers to say, 
 He rose one cheerful morn of May, 
 When weather made the lips relative, 
 And the frank soul communicative, 
 The Blessed Mary to confront, 
 And kneel unto, as was his wont. 
 But, though 'twas early, yet was he, 
 As it fell out, the last of three. 
 
89 
 
 Two Beggars, blind, were bent before her ; 
 
 Pretending highly to adore her, 
 
 The tear to squeeze, the sigh to broach, 
 
 Whene'er they heard a foot approach ; 
 
 Else not a single groan, or hem : 
 
 The Devil might sigh and groan for them, 
 
 If they supposed no mortal ey'd 'em ; 
 
 Or knelt to mutter pray'rs beside 'em ; 
 
 Though Vicar of Bray ne'er bray'd so loud 
 
 As they, when braying in a crowd. 
 
 Not hearing any thing i' th' wind, 
 (Observe, I told you they were blind) 
 They chatter'd with each other freely, 
 And not with mouth by some call'd mealy, 
 Of their impostures hypocritic, 
 Their feignings to be paralytic, 
 With various arts and tricks exterior, 
 Each vaunting still himself superior 
 In cheating your fanatic blockhead, 
 And plucking pence from pious pocket, 
 i 3 
 
90 
 
 No sooner did they money mention, 
 Than our good signior's whole attention 
 Was caught, and straight, all eye and ear, 
 On cautious tip-toe he drew near ; 
 While they, with vanity impellant, 
 Told each dissimulative talent : 
 Till one, more hardy, boasted that 
 Two hundred pistoles, in his hat, 
 Well quilted were ; and all in gold, 
 As good as e'er were touched, or told ! 
 
 * Pshaw/ with a sneer, replies the other, 
 ' But I've five hundred pistoles, brother, 
 
 ' Of gold, which touchstone well endures, 
 
 * Hid in the self-same place as yours ! !' 
 
 Their belts had burst, had they been buckled, 
 
 So heartily the rascals chuckled, 
 
 To think that they, who wanted eyes, 
 
 Were, more than others, rich and wise : 
 
 For Vanity as soon convinces 
 
 Your mendicants as peers, or princes ; 
 
91 
 
 And tear of approbation trickles 
 
 Down Beggar's cheek, when self-love tickles, 
 
 As fast, and with as warm delight, 
 
 As down the cheek of earl, or knight. 
 
 Their talk heard well our man of Florence, 
 
 And tho' he theft held in abhorrence, 
 
 That is, whenever he suspected 
 
 He probably might be detected, 
 
 Yet conscience soon was acquiescent, 
 
 Upon occasion like the present. 
 
 Quick, then, with ambidexter snatch, 
 
 He left each pate without a patch ; 
 
 And back recoilM with footstep silent ; 
 
 While they, with clamours loud and vi'lent, 
 
 Supposing each by th' other plundered, 
 
 s Thief! Scoundrel! Robber! Rascal !' thunder'd ; 
 
 And both began to claw, and curse, 
 
 Like drabs of Billingsgate, or worse, 
 
 While arm athletic well belabours, 
 
 Till uproar rais'd the drowsy neighbours; 
 
92 
 
 Who gave them, as my tale supposes, 
 For broken heads, and bloody noses, 
 And every other dire disaster, 
 Much good advice, by way of plaister. 
 
 Our signior lingered not t' inquire 
 
 Which way his dupes would vent their ire; 
 
 But, holding it unwise to tarry, 
 
 Ran off as fast as legs would carry ; 
 
 Nor ever stopt to look behind, 
 
 Till, out of danger and of wind, 
 
 He deem'd that safely, on reflection, 
 
 He might take breath and recollection. 
 
 And now, when certain of his booty, 
 
 Some scruples strange, about his duty, 
 
 Began to fill his doubting mind ; 
 
 Till he was more than half inclined 
 
 To entertain an odd belief, 
 
 That he was more than half a thief; 
 
 And wakened Conscience gave such twitches, 
 
 About his late ill-gotten riches, 
 
93 
 
 As, reader, you and I, I trow, 
 Who never sinn'd, can never know. 
 
 You've seen that folks in pain, no doubt, 
 
 Do bellow stoutly to get out : 
 
 Hence doctors logically prove 
 
 That what we hate we do not love 5 
 
 While Truth peers thro' their diction, florid, 
 
 As plain as horns thro* cuckold's forehead. 
 
 < Like causes like effects produce' 
 Is an old axiom still in use ; 
 Hence Pain suggested an opinion, 
 Jn cranium of our Florentinian, . 
 That she no more should break his rest 
 When he his crime had once confessed; 
 And, as 'twas an uncommon case, 
 She held it wise that to his grace, 
 Th' Archbishop, he should forthwith go, 
 And let him all the story know. 
 
94 
 
 He, like most folks, before and since, 
 Found Pain an arbitrary prince, 
 Whose arguments must needs convince. 
 Beside, he was not very subject 
 Too long to reason on one object. 
 Nor should this fact be too much minded; 
 For, tho* you see that Pin long-winded, 
 Yet too much reasoning will fatigue me: 
 And who but, if he saw a pigmy 
 Laboring to carry a cow, must laugh, 
 Knowing he could not carry a calf? 
 
 The prelate found, he then and there 
 
 (His reverence in his elbow chair) 
 
 Told first and last of his proceedings, 
 
 His vow to th' virgin, pray'rs and pleadings; 
 
 FaiPd not t' enumerate his devotions, 
 
 And all his orthodoxy notions 
 
 Of God, the Virgin, Mother, Daughter; 
 
 Of consecrated wood and water; 
 
95 
 
 And spoke with spirit so submissive, 
 So primitive, and so expressive, 
 His reverence vow'd, with holy amen, 
 He never heard, from lip of laymen, 
 Doctrine so purely apostolic, 
 So worthy to be termM catholic ! 
 
 9 As for the hats hold let me try 
 
 ' Humph ! ah why, Sir, 'tween you and I, 
 
 * We ought, in all humility, 
 
 ' Each to wear one ! ay this for me. 
 
 ' *Tis very old, I grant, and bad ; 
 
 ' But so Christ's children should be clad : 
 
 ' Tis heavier, too, than that you'll wear; 
 
 ^ But ifs my duty most to bear : 
 
 ' Painful pre-eminence, to moan 
 
 * And weep transgressions not our own. 
 
 * Meanwhile procession shall be made, 
 9 And holy office sung, or said, 
 
 * With every possible decorum, 
 
 9 That they who have sins may deplore 'em ; 
 
96 
 
 f And, with contrition true, may cry, Ah I 
 
 ' Before our blest Sancta Maria. 
 
 ' For, Sir, 'tis plain, that had not she 
 
 ( Been one of this confederacy, 
 
 ' This deed had wanted yet a name, 
 
 ' Which I a miracle proclaim* ! 
 
 ' Nay, what is more, you'ad gone without 
 
 That hat, which now, beyond a doubt, 
 
 ' Is yours, by right of gift divine, 
 
 < As legally as this is mine/ 
 
 Our Signior, all as wise as honetc, 
 BowM, and put on his beggar's bonnet ; 
 And in this conference learn'd, we see, 
 Much logic more divinity. 
 
 The story's done ; but for the moral, 
 If you will take a poet's parole, 
 
 * The incidents in this tale, with some little variations, arr 
 taken from a book called VUtile col Dolce , published at Flo- 
 rence, with the approbation of the Archbishop, and licensed 
 Bj the B0Jy Inquisition. 
 
97 
 
 It has already, Sir, been shown: 
 If not, I greatly doubt 3 t has none. 
 To dulness morals are akin, 
 They're often better out than in. 
 Another reason may appear, 
 "*Why moralize I should not, here: 
 Like book yclep'd Encyclopedy, 
 My tale is much too long already. 
 
 VOL. r. 
 
ADVICE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE INCONVENIENCE OF RENOWN. 
 
 A TALE. 
 

ADVICE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE INCONVENIENCE OF RENOWN. 
 TALE VIII. 
 
 AH luckless me, who was not born to die 
 Five hundred years ago, in days of yore ; 
 Days that, alas, must be no more ! 
 
 Ah luckless me ! Why might not I 
 Some baron, earl, or knight, have been ; 
 Giants have slain, and ghosts have seenj^ 
 And sallied forth to death and plunder; 
 Townships have sackM, and castles raised, 
 And livM of men the dread and wonder, 
 When he that did most mischief most was prais'd ? 
 
 K 3 
 
102 
 
 Farewell, yc much lamented times ! 
 When mitres were by mrnarchs fear'd, 
 When bigotry took wisdom by the beard, 
 
 And men gainM admiration by their crimes. 
 Ah, luckless me ! Had I controlled my fate, 
 Then had I been as vain, 
 
 As mad, as great 
 
 As Alexander, or as Charlemagne! 
 My head, my heart, my soul, with rapture glow 
 
 To think, had this been so, 
 That History's grand retort might now distil 
 
 The fumes of praise; 
 And, with a goose, nay with a turkey quill, 
 
 Might blaze 
 My valour all abroad ; 
 
 My conquests gainM by slaughter, and by fraud ; 
 Might paint in black and white my skill ; 
 
 And thus, and then, 
 Maturely, wisely, gravely, might teach men, 
 
 By my example, 
 On right and wrong to trample ; 
 
103 
 
 To mercy deaf, to misery blind, 
 New heroes and new havoc urge 
 Anew to scourge 
 Mankind ! 
 
 But why repine ? 
 
 Begot and Born we know not how ; 
 The strong, the weak, the fool, the wit, 
 Must to his destiny submit, 
 
 And I to mine. 
 
 t 
 
 I might have been Ape, Tiger, Bear : 
 
 Happily, now, 
 
 Pm only doom'd to scribble stupid rhimes, 
 That Patience may supinely doze, 
 That Common Sense may stare, 
 And sage Reviewers scribble stupid prose *. 
 
 * As I foresee 
 
 These learned MAGISTERS will all agree, 
 In faults and blemishes detecting ; 
 Some, for they can't help recollecting 
 Rules of one HORACE, and the STAGIRITE 
 (A plaffu confound them both ! Why did they write ?) 
 
104 
 
 He never falls, who never climbs. 
 Yet is he not a most egregious dolt 
 Who dreams himself inspired; 
 By Phoebus, or by Folly, fir'd ? 
 
 And some because, that they may eat, 
 
 They're paid three guineas by the sheet j 
 
 And some because their wit is such 
 
 They never can display too much ; 
 
 And some because they loyally opine 
 
 I am a dang'rous Jacobine ; 
 (In that upon my honor they're mistaken ; 
 But all my swearing will not save my bacon ; 
 Nor do I, tho' I own I cannot far see, 
 From these good souls expect one drop of mercy ?) 
 As I foresee they all have rods in pickle, 
 With which my TALE to tickle, 
 Tho' privately, perhaps, I curse and grumble, 
 Still, as I publicly profess myself their humble, 
 And would obey them, could I, to the letter, 
 I reasonably request 
 They'll go and do their best 
 In language, like themselves, DIVINE, 
 
 To write this ill-told TALE of mine 
 Over again, and better. 
 
105 
 
 Aloft in garret, ragged as a colt, 
 Chewing the cud and scanning feet, 
 Digesting words and wanting meat, 
 With famine not with fame inflate, 
 Brandishing goose-quill dipt in gall, 
 Pretending to reform the state, 
 ShunnM worse than poverty or plague by all, 
 
 Puffing himself to future ages 
 
 The prince of poets, and the grand Mogul of sages, 
 Inhaling immortality and smoke, 
 Of knavery the butt, of wealth the scorn, 
 Of fools the scoff, of sober sense the joke, 
 In life neglected, and in death forlorn ! 
 Is he not ass, or lunatic, or worse ? 
 One who of wretchedness deserves the curse ? 
 
 Now, I am strangely out, in my conjecture, 
 
 Or, of such Elf, 
 
 Were it myself, 
 This is a true, I can't say pleasant, picture. 
 
106 
 
 This sober sense, 
 Would but the Gods bestow it, 
 From men might well deserve thanksgiving : 
 But, since that virtue they dispense 
 
 So rarely, to the living, 
 And since complaining can't avail, 
 And since the hero of my TALE 
 A knight is, not a poet, 
 Why should not 
 
 Hold Ay, a-propos of knights- 
 It has been said, 
 
 And in their own resolves we daily read 
 How much KNIGHTS BARONET deserve our thanks! 
 
 For, eager to maintain their ranks, 
 When other zealots only talkM of rights, 
 Devour'd by this said zeal, 
 
 Like men that feel, 
 And wishing to alarm the nation, 
 
 They held confabulation; 
 
 And, when they met, they murmur'd o'er their drink. 
 EnragM to think 
 
107 
 
 Heralds and heav'n alone were doom'd to know 
 
 That they had SIRES, 
 Who eat roast beef, and kept coal fires, 
 
 And liv'd no soul can tell how long ago ! 
 The world might still be in the dark, 
 Unless they were allowM to wear 
 
 Some STIGMA, BADGE, Or MARK, 
 
 By which the eye might understand 
 
 The right they had to bear 
 
 The BLOODY HAND! 
 
 Too much renown, however, has been found 
 
 An inconvenience, now and then; 
 And thus it happen'd to these sage grave men, 
 Who did their patriotic doubts propound ; 
 For much they wishM t' avert a curs'd disaster, 
 That of the man mistaken for the master : 
 Because they greatly fearM that half mankind, 
 In want of instinct, puppy-blind, 
 
 Might never trace 
 Honor hereditary in their face. 
 
108 
 
 To rude necessity, alas, 
 We all must bend : 
 He that would every good amass, 
 Or conquer all the elements, will fail; 
 
 Therefore I here shall end 
 This brief and pithy preface to my TALE. 
 
 And now, if so they please, the Muses nine, 
 
 Taking their wings, 
 
 And their umbrellas, if they have such things, 
 As sure they ought to have this rainy weather, 
 May hither step and grant their aid divine, 
 And with them bring Apollo: 
 If he be not at home 
 (We know he's apt to roam) 
 Word may be left that he may follow : 
 
 Then we together 
 Will lay our heads, and try 
 This charming story charmingly to write, 
 
 And cogitations deep excite 
 T 3 instruct the Universe, and eke the town ; 
 Who may, as they think fit, or laugh or cry, 
 
109 
 
 While we, Parnasse and Co, exemplify 
 Th J aforesaid inconvenience of Renown. 
 
 THE TALE. 
 PART I. 
 
 A Baronet, of title old 
 And ancient name 
 
 (He too had sires, whom dangers did environ, 
 Who therefore cas'd themselves in iron, 
 
 And then felt bold ; 
 And, when the fit of valour seizM 'em, 
 A crew of rioters they rallied, 
 And forth they sallied : 
 Marauding off away they went ; 
 To rob and murder their intent, 
 
 And take whatever pleasM 'em ; 
 Thereby to lay in store of cows, and sheep, and fame !) 
 
 A Baronet, of title old 
 (Parenthesis is an unwieldy weapon, 
 VOL. i. L 
 
110 
 
 Which, like Homerian spear and shield, 
 Requires au antique arm to wield ; 
 Unmeet for poor poetic capon, 
 Cut down according to French rules, 
 
 Prim in ms dress, 
 But tnmm'd to freezing cold 
 And nakedness 
 By modern schools *.) 
 
 This Baronet, whose title thus I vaunt, 
 For to affront such persons Pm afraid, 
 
 Had what he fear'd was a misfortune ; 
 He had a dart, 
 
 Plung'd by imp Cupid in his heart ; 
 
 For, ah, he lov'd a maid ! 
 A witch one day foreboded, by her look, 
 
 She virgin might be, or might not, 
 
 But certainly she was a cook : 
 
 A maid, ay cook-maid, she ; who knew 
 
 * Correct the word, dear Sir : read FOOLS. 
 
 APOLLO. 
 
Ill 
 
 To stir a fire ; 
 
 Or rather TWO : 
 
 One which should kindle fond desire; 
 Another which should boil the pot. 
 
 We might perhaps in this a mystery seek, 
 
 Did we not fear to be prophane ; 
 And yet 'tis necessary to explain 
 That these two fires were probably but one : 
 For, while she warmM herself and sat quite cozy, 
 Waiting till the roast was done, 
 A dew-sprent bloom suffused * her cheek, 
 
 * Spread over; or, o'er-spread. 
 
 One Muse 
 
 Would read SUFFUSE ; 
 Another pleaded hard for SHED : 
 I did the same, that it might rhime to red ; 
 
 But, fearful of affronting, 
 I durst not too far urge my suit ; 
 So, in the warmth of our dispute, 
 At last, we all forgot a rhime was wanting. 
 Critic, should your keen eye the fault detect, 
 We hope you'll pardon this our sole defect. APOLLO 
 
 L 2 
 
 
Yclept in phrase coloquial red, 
 In love and rhiming rosy. 
 The zone of beauty bound her like a hoop ; 
 
 And we may guess, 
 By conning her receipts for soup, 
 For jellies, sauces, potted hare, 
 Pig barbacued, and capilaire, 
 Remembering also how she dipt, 
 
 And sipt, 
 To please the taste 
 Of him who lov'd so well, 
 And how these dips and sips 
 Began to swell 
 Her lovely lips 
 And still more lovely waist, 
 Which did not every day grow less, 
 Reader, I say that we, between us, 
 From items such as these, may guess 
 The means by which this maid became a Venus. 
 
 Hoo ! Virgins, hoo ! 
 What shall we do ? 
 
113 
 
 Why now we have forgot the rhime to vaunt ! 
 
 And also to misfortune ! 
 Brava, Melpom. ! You have them pat ! 
 
 The cruel maid the knight did taunt, 
 
 When her he did importune, 
 And ask'd him what the plague he would be at ? 
 Now, though he knew, he wanted words to tell ; 
 
 For Jove will make a man, 
 Ay, though a Baronet, a booby ; 
 Nor did he think that it could true be, 
 When he the matter soberly did scan, 
 That he, what time the fit of love did shake him, 
 
 Finding the maid so loth, 
 So coy, so strong of arm, so prone to parry, 
 Had, with appeals to heav'n and honor, pledg'd his troth ! 
 
 Yet so it was. 
 
 Nay, once, when suffering pangs and throes 
 Which may of love be callM the gas, 
 In fine, such pangs as Lover only knows, 
 He solemnly invoked the Devil to take him 
 If her he did not marry ! 
 1-3 
 
114 
 
 Rejoiced that love like pigeon she had spitted, 
 And that her eyes were as her saucepans bright, 
 
 The maid took haughty airs. 
 Honor meantime, the noble friend o'the knight, 
 
 Revolving these affairs, 
 And standing thus committed, 
 Began to grumble in the gizzard. 
 Such tergeversion to detect ; 
 He taught the knight to half suspect 
 He was no necromancer, conjuror, or wizzard ; 
 Reminded him, with keen reproach, 
 His former lady kept her carriage, 
 
 And, after marriage, 
 Her proper arms had quartered on his coach. 
 
 " Go, Sir," said Honor, " search the book, 
 " That book in which you once so much delighted, 
 t( The heralds' touchstone, search it well and look 
 t( If, since the hour in which your name was knighted, 
 " One blot in scutcheon you can trace, 
 
 " One precedent, 
 rf To justify your present base 
 " latent ?" 
 
115 
 
 Sir John was rous'd ; 
 So, taking pinches three of snuff, 
 Right warmly he his cause espoused, 
 And thus indignantly replied : 
 
 ' Honor, 1 really think you've said enough ! 
 ' Nor can it be denied 
 
 * That with yourself you are at war. 
 
 * Beside that you are peevish, Sir, and apt to fret : 
 
 * Of this Pve proof, videlicet : 
 
 * Say that, instead of Baronet, 
 f I were an Emperor, 
 
 ' And I my Dolly would seduce, 
 
 ' What counsel would you give her ? 
 ' To my attacks would you not beat a truce ? 
 
 ' Alert, whenever Virtue cries out, 
 ' Would you not bristle up and tear my eyes out,. 
 ' That Chastity besieg'd you might deliver ? 
 
 ' To speak in decent metaphor, 
 
 ' As other speaking I abhor, 
 
 * I thought the harvest rich and ripe, 
 
116 
 
 f And only waiting for the sickle : 
 ' But, Honor, you, aye, you step'd in ! 
 ' 'Twas you that first began to stickle ; 
 * To fie, and flout, and talk of shame and sin, 
 ' And said of Satan I was but the type. 
 ' My every effort did you not rebuff! 
 ( That day, portentous, when the lovely maid, 
 ' With arms entwin'd, 
 ' And strong embrace, 
 ' Entreaties kind, 
 ' And doleful face, 
 ' By me was in a whimper pray'd 
 ' Too look the yielding yes ! 
 f Pert, obstinate, and proud, 
 ' By you my base assault was blam'd j 
 ' And, when in danger she of sinking, 
 f As if she had been deeply drinking 
 ' Of love th' intoxicating cup, 
 * When I my wishes thought to crown, 
 Just when I hop'd ineffable and perfect bliss, 
 'Twas you rush'd forward, you, and propt her up ! 
 ' And, oh, with what a frown 
 
117 
 
 * You sternly ask'd me, in a huftj 
 
 ' If I was not asham'd, 
 ' Abandoned Rake, 
 ' T* attempt to make 
 ' So pure, so chaste, so good, a maid a Miss ? 
 
 * Ay, Sir, 'twas you that bad her squeak, 
 
 ( Or rather scream aloud ! 
 
 ' Curs'd be the pinch 
 You gave ; it made her wince, 
 ' And deal on my left cheek 
 
 * A slap, that might be calPd a souse * 1 
 ' To my vexation and surprise, 
 
 e You twingM her till, by her redoubled cries 
 
 ' At last, to all the house, 
 
 c Abashed and balk'd, my passion stood betray'd ! 
 f Oh dire disgrace 
 ' To all my race ! 
 
 ' Stamping me with that everlasting flaw 
 ' Of which I stood so long in awe, 
 ' So damnably afraid V 
 
 * Those who prefer it may read douse. I KAMA. 
 
118 
 
 Retort thus unexpected was the caus.e 
 That, for a moment, Honor made a pause. 
 He most sagaciously did strive 
 
 His intellect to clear 
 .By coughing times say five, 
 By hems we cannot tell how many, 
 And by the scratching of his ear, 
 To know if were the knight or he himself the zany? 
 
 Finger to nose, 
 Deeply reflecting, 
 And all himself at length collecting, 
 With his accustomed dignity he rose, 
 And thus he spoke : 
 
 " Sir John, 
 
 " Since scrutiny you dare provoke, 
 " You doubtless think that I am puzzled ; 
 " That Honor, like a mastiff, may be muzzled ; 
 t( That you may treat him like a dog, 
 " May put his collar on, 
 " And kick him to his kennel : 
 
119 
 
 " But let me, Sir, your memory jog ; 
 
 te Yes, be it known, 
 
 ' When Honor on the Jury you impannel, 
 " Bright Honor, eldest Infant of the Throne, 
 " Will dare to give Sir John himself his own ; 
 ft Nor ever flinch, or deign to ask permission. 
 " If Honor absent be, say, what is Man ? 
 <( Poor wretch ! Why all that can 
 <e The blood inflame and fire ; 
 " A scoundrel, villain, coward, liar ! 
 
 " But, Honor by, 
 " Falsehood itself can never lie ! 
 " By him protected and secure, 
 " Seduction, nay Adultery, both are pure ! 
 " And Punks and Black-legs free from all suspicion ! 
 
 " Through ancient or through modern times, 
 " When Vice personified has sat enshrin'd 
 " In noble or ignoble mind, 
 " Whate'er her freaks, whatever her crimes, 
 " Frantic in act, perverse in will, 
 " Nations goading while pursuing 
 
120 
 
 " Hellish hatred, hideous ruin, 
 
 Yet still, 
 
 " Be Honor but imagined her protector, 
 " The devil himself has never darM suspect her. 
 
 " As to the question of this maid, 
 
 ef And why I taught her 
 " To know herself of Eve the daughter, 
 " And therefore to be thus afraid 
 " Of Love-envenom'd darts, 
 " Of fraudful wiles, 
 <e Seductive smiles, 
 " The touch, the kiss, 
 " The pressure of the palm, 
 " With the whole host of man^s satanic arts, 
 " Intentions treacherous, thoughts impure, 
 " Yet all the while as saint-like and demure 
 
 " As though he sang a psalm, 
 " Preaching of nothing less than heavenly bliss, 
 " Yet trying all his tricks to make 
 
 " Her poor heart ache, 
 " And every human mis'ry teach to pelt her : 
 
121 
 
 " I say, 'tis Honor's first and noblest duty 
 " Sweet Innocence bestorm'd to shelter, 
 te And Guardian be to blooming Youth and Beauty, 
 
 " At first, to speak thus plainly I was loth ; 
 " But now remember, Sir, I warn you both ! 
 " You are a Baronet, and she a Cook ; 
 
 " You had forefathers, she had none ; 
 " And, when a maid to wife their Honors took, 
 " They made themselves quite sure 
 (t She was of birth so high, 
 " Of blood so pure, 
 '* None could or dar'd deny 
 , ' 4 But that she might have been 
 
 " Princess or Queen, 
 " Or Vestal, ay or Virgin of the Sun. 
 f ' Say, are we not in ancient records told " 
 
 Sir John could now no longer hold. 
 
 f Be silent, Honor ! I protest 
 
 ' You grow quite troublesome and teasing ; 
 
 ' The enemy of all that's pleasing. 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
122 
 
 But, Sir, in your despite, I will be blest I 
 f Ay, will by No I must forbear : 
 f My piety forbids that I should swear ; 
 
 ' But I have pledg'd my troth, 
 f And preaching does but make me wrath. 
 * She shall be mine ! 
 
 * Fve said the word ; 
 ' Nor will I be deterr'd 
 ' By human powers, unless they prove divine*!' 
 
 At threats like these Honor to smile pretended ; 
 But that he highly was offended, 
 And that he knew what him behov'd, 
 
 Was plain enough 
 
 By the calm dignity with which he mov'd, 
 And the wing'd terrors f of his bold reply. 
 
 * However great his agitation, 
 He was not so of sense bereft 
 But that a loop-hole thus he left 
 By this sagacious stipulation. URANIA. 
 
 t Terrors, and all such sorts of things, 
 Whene'er they come, they come on wrings. 
 
 THALIA. 
 
123 
 
 " Sir John, you've made a very pretty speech, 
 t But know you've also made a breach ; 
 " A breach that you and I must sever 
 " Now and for ever. 
 " I take my leave : 
 
 " Nay, no pretence to whine, or grieve ; 
 " You are resolved, and so am I. 
 " My salutary counsels you rebuff, 
 " And deem you've done a mighty feat; 
 (e But my revenge will be complete ; 
 ( Your friends will spy your Ass's ears, 
 " Deaf as they are to sober sense, or jeers ; 
 " Howe'er you talk, 
 " About you'll walk, 
 " The jest of all beholders, 
 " With a sheep's head upon your shoulders. 
 " This know 
 " I'll try 
 " To tell 
 " A few ; 
 " And so 
 " Good bye, 
 M 2 
 
* 124 
 
 f< Farewell, 
 " Adieu." 
 
 PART II. 
 
 Thrice Honor bow'd, and thrice he stood erect, 
 
 Before he went ; 
 
 But, once that ceremony o'er, 
 
 He never more 
 
 His body bent : 
 
 In him base condescension no eye could detect : 
 The upraised head., 
 The measurM gait, 
 The stately tread, 
 The solemn state, 
 
 With which indignant Honor off did hike, 
 Were such as mortal never saw the like ! 
 
 But, Honor being gone^ 
 What did Sir John ? 
 Why truly this exegesis, 
 Or rather peroration, 
 The Baronet had taken much' amiss* 
 
125 
 
 But that he dreaded still a worse jobation. 
 However, all he did, and all that pass'd, 
 Both first and last, 
 We shall unfold, 
 At that fit season when it should be told. 
 
 Ere we events like these disclose, 
 A lapse of time we must suppose ; 
 And also, be the man or grievM or glad, 
 
 Unless he happen to go mad, 
 However fierce a passion burns, 
 
 That, very fairly, 
 
 Late or early, 
 Love and Reason have their turns. 
 
 Hence did it happen that our Baronet 
 
 Could not entirely forget 
 How often, in the prime and pride of youth, 
 
 It was his boast 
 That Honor was his friend, 
 His dearest intimate, 
 His firm ally ; 
 M 3 
 
126 
 
 The voucher for his courage, conduct, truth, 
 
 Which were no tongue could tell how great : 
 Nor Hector HvM who this would dare deny. 
 In those days, he and Honor never parted ; 
 Nor was a doubt by either started 
 Which t'other did not, then and there, 
 Defend j 
 And swear 
 It was a doubt, 
 Or it was not, 
 
 Just as they pleased to make it ; 
 And he that heard might take ifc t 
 
 How he would, 
 Resent it how he could, 
 For damn 'em if they did not both defy r 
 Gunpowder, death, and him ! 
 Such was their whim. 
 
 Your scoundrel fellows might indeed be truss'd up : 
 But, as for them, they'd kick a dust up, 
 
 Breed a riot, make a rout, 
 And if they pleas'd, by way of freak, 
 Of any spark 
 The nose would tweak, 
 
127 
 
 Or kick the breech ; 
 It was their itch ; 
 
 At all times ready they t'exchange a shot : 
 Fighting to them was food ; 
 And on that ground they stood, 
 Happy to make THE BULL-DOGS MARK*, 
 ResolvM to rule the roast. 
 
 Oh days of double glory ; 
 Of much lamented fame ! 
 Such as might live in story, 
 And scour anew a name 
 That age had half made rusty. 
 
 Deeply regretted by Sir John 
 Were these his ancient ties ; 
 Whenever Love would let him think upon 
 Matters so grave, maxims so wise. 
 
 Now, though his pate 
 Was not much prone to ruminate, 
 
 * Pistols discharged ; powder and lead : 
 A pleasant metaphor for shooting through the head. 
 
 THALIA. 
 
128 
 
 Yet, Cunning, whom he deem'd 
 A Counsellor right trusty, 
 Cunning did most sagaciously suggest, 
 To his afflicted breast, 
 
 Or bosom, 
 
 That he had friends; 
 And that it were a loss to lose 'em ; 
 That friends lov'd feasting; that his wines were good; 
 And that the cooking art was understood 
 
 By Dolly in perfection ; 
 That she was therefore highly in their favor, 
 For well she knew to give a goose a flavor ; 
 In use of saucepan, pot, or spit, 
 1 hat none the haut-gout better hit ; 
 That a good dinner recommends 
 
 The Donor ; 
 
 That dining with him was a privilege 
 They would not hastily abridge, 
 Much less relinquish ; 
 Nay more, these friends so dear 
 Would sometimes win his money, sometimes borrow. 
 And with him most unfeignedly would sympathize, 
 And sorrow, 
 
129 
 
 When he had none to lend, or lose : 
 Yes, Cunning swore, friends so sincere 
 Might certainly be won to authorize 
 
 His free election. 
 
 Say that his flame he never could extinguish, 
 But even were to tie the happy noose, 
 Let them but gather round his table 
 
 Day by day, 
 
 He then should soon be able 
 To make all up with Honor : 
 For, though he had his laws, 
 And though his voice was loud, 
 Yet, bred at court, he always smil'd 
 In ev'ry fashionable Crowd ; 
 And never was he known to keep away 
 
 For any cause, 
 Or act, to which the world was reconciPd ! 
 
 The day was fix'd, the cards were sent, 
 The Marmitons began to bustle ; 
 Eager that ev'ry guest should dine 
 Each to his heart's content, 
 On preparation all were bent, 
 
130 
 
 And Dolly most : 
 
 Hoping to prove herself a maid divine, 
 As well in beauty as in art, 
 Silks were selected that might rustle, 
 Diamonds that could not fail to shine, 
 With all that France and England knew 
 To deck the body, and subdue 
 
 The heart. 
 
 And for the palate viands rich and rare, 
 CaterM with care, 
 She did amass ; 
 Till groan'd the dressers with their loads. 
 
 And kitchen odours rose 
 To greet the much delighted nose ! 
 Odours that even might surpass 
 Your ancient Holocaust, 
 
 Which much appeas'd, 
 Because it titilated, pleas'd, 
 And by good cookery perfum'd, th* immortal Gods. 
 
 Hence mutual hope on knight and cook maid beams : 
 Pleasure high Priest, 
 Supreme the feast 
 
131 
 
 If, undiminish'd Great Sir John's Renown, 
 
 TV eventful day should but their wishes crown I 
 
 It came ! The day of trial came 
 
 The friends assembled waited, 
 Anxious to hear what was to be debated ; 
 For they were all informed 
 The knight a doubtful case 
 Intended to propound ; 
 A question that concerned his fame ; 
 One that his bosom warm/d, 
 
 Yet agitated ; 
 And, of mistake afraid, 
 He call'd their better judgment to his aid, 
 
 Acknowledging their worth, 
 Their faculties to properly decide 
 On all that well became 
 A man of rank and birth, 
 
 With many a trope 
 T' express the flattering hope 
 A favorable verdict might be found. 
 
132 
 
 Sir John has passM the parlour door, 
 And whispering queries now are heard no more. 
 He makes his hesitating bow, 
 
 Runs through 
 
 Each individual " How do ?" 
 Shakes hands, adjusts his cravat, 
 Buttons his coat, 
 Then clears his throat, 
 Considering who to have at, 
 And looks, and looks, and looks, he knows not ho\v t 
 
 Suppose some fifty fruitless efforts over ; 
 
 Suppose the pursing of his face ; 
 
 Putting himself on his probation, 
 Attempting to confess himself a lover, 
 Suppose him now screw'd up to an oration. 
 
 <e Most honored and most honorable friends, 
 ce The cause that caus'd me on this day,, 
 " To wish wish wish for your attendance* 
 " I say, the cause the cause, I say 
 
 " You all know Lady Mistress Dorothy : 
 
133 
 
 <( Her state, I own, 
 <e I Hem- ! I must make known 
 <f Her state my state of mind 
 e{ Her state a state was is Hem ! of dependence 
 " Because the cause you see 
 " The cause of Mistress Dorothy 
 <e I mean the cause which now affords affords 
 
 " I hope there's none 
 te Who will consider me as 
 
 fe As one as one 
 " Who strict propriety offends, 
 
 " Though Mistress Dorothy 
 " I say, I lose I mean, I find 
 
 " I find that she 
 " That I that I have words, 
 " And that I only want ideas 
 " No, pardon me, 
 " Again 'tis plain 
 " I'm wrong 
 
 " I find that-^-I have lost the train 
 " That is that my ideas are so strong 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
134 
 
 " That I am quite deprived of thought. 
 " To recollection much too much is brought : 
 " To speak I want, 
 " But find I can't ; 
 < For Mrs. Dorothy 
 " Concerning She 
 " Oh, could I well 
 " My feelings tell 
 
 t Concerning what concerns me near 
 " Concerning all that passes here ! 
 " But Mistress Dorothy 
 " My cook that was 
 " I mean that is no, no, that is to be 
 
 " My Pshaw ! Dear me ! 
 " I must declare I'm strangely at a loss 
 fe Much have I undergone 
 " For Mistress Dorothy " 
 
 ( Come to the point, Sir John ?' 
 
 " Pm at it now, 
 
 " But don't know how 
 
135 
 
 " To point that is to place the matter clearly : 
 <( My hopes and fears 
 " The sighs and tears 
 " Of Mistress Dorothy 
 <{ The voice of scandal could we but agree 
 To brave it 
 " But such a stir 
 " I say, sensations strong 
 " This is the short and long." 
 
 ' Ay, let us have it!' 
 
 " Then Mistress Dorothy" 
 
 ' Mistress or Miss, 
 ' Zounds! what of her?' 
 
 <f Why neither more nor less than this, 
 By *** I love her dearly ! 
 
 fe Yes, yes ! I see 
 " I plainly read your looks I 
 N 2 
 
 
136 
 
 " But I should hope none would pre ass assume ' 
 " I hope, I say, no gentleman will plume 
 " Himself upon I really would avoid 
 
 " But Mistress Dorothy 
 tf My peace of mind has been destroyed !* 
 
 " Alas, her private station 
 " Has been quite cruel, or Pm much mistaken : 
 " Say all we can, 
 ' f Man is but man ; 
 
 " I therefore would most earnestly awaken 
 " This just and true consideration, 
 " That there are cooks who might be ladies ; nay, 
 
 " I venture further still to say, 
 " Ladies there are who might be cooks." 
 
 ' Your friends, Sir John, can do no less, 
 
 ' From all they hear, than roundly guess 
 
 ' That you're a lover ?' 
 
 r f I own I am but that that that's not all : 
 " Great is my thrall ! 
 

 137 
 
 " For I can truly feel, like you, 
 
 " How much is due 
 " To rank, and birth, of all degrees ; 
 " And, while I feel, how exquisite the pain ! 
 e< But doubts and difficulties o'er me hover, 
 " And feeble Reason would in vain 
 f These ticklish points discuss ; 
 " Since Love and Fate 
 " Can subjugate 
 " The Gods : 
 <e And, ah, for me 
 fe Too mighty are the odds, 
 
 " I find, 
 
 " Of Love and Fate, combined 
 *' And leagued with my dear Dorothy ! 
 " Such is my woe, 
 (( Where'er I go, 
 " In cities populous, 
 <e Or silent groves and shady, 
 
 " No rest I take ; 
 
 " My wounded heart can ne'er have ease, 
 N 3 
 
138 
 
 " Nor shall I my tranquillity recover 
 
 " Until I make 
 " My dear delightful Dorothy a Lady/' 
 
 ' A Lady did you say ?' 
 
 Why that is Nay 
 ee I somehow greatly fear 
 t{ I have not made myself quite clear : 
 " I wish to take my friends' advice; 
 <f For delicate my feelings are, and nice ; 
 
 " Nay more, 
 " Are rather sore; 
 " Since any indiscretion, on my part, 
 
 " Would really almost break my heart. 
 " But how to act and what to do 
 " Which way to manage if that you 
 <( That I that sheI own I grant 
 That is, I can't deny 
 " I mean I do not want 
 To try 
 
139 
 
 tf To shuffle off or in the least elude 
 <e In fine, I finally at last conclude 
 
 " By you the question shall be tried : 
 " However much my feelings it offends, 
 " By your advice, my highly honorM friends, 
 " I firmly will abide." 
 
 ' Why then, Sir John, 
 e Since thus you prudently resolve 
 ' To give our counsel absolute dominion ; 
 ( Of consequences well aware, 
 f And all that they involve, 
 ' You cautiously thus make us take a share 
 ' And be your Sponsors, as it were, 
 ' I must for one 
 ' Give my opinion 
 ' That Hold! A thought has just occurred 
 
 ' And yet, it cannot be 1 
 ' For you have pledged your word 
 
 < That we 
 
 ' Your friends assembled, shall decide. 
 ' Am I correct ?' 
 
140 
 
 " Why Yes I think I partly spoke- 
 To that effect." 
 
 ' Humph ! Partly ? Nay then, lest the joke 
 ' Should be a little too, far carried, 
 ' Ere we proceed in this our task, 
 e It may be quite as well to ask 
 ' If you, Sir John, and Mistress Dorothy, 
 ' Are riot already married ?' 
 
 No ! think not reader all the Nine, 
 Nor great Apollo, though divine, 
 Nor even I to help them can pourtray 
 The moon-struck Baronet's grimace ! 
 The laborM pursing of his face. 
 The hanging of his arms, his downward sinking, 
 
 His inward shrinking, 
 His vain attempts to face it out, 
 
 His dread dismay, 
 
 With ev'ry endless and dumb-founding Ooubt 
 Ere he could bring himself to say, 
 I mean to stammer, " Ye Ye Yes 
 
141 
 
 F fi finding it is it must be known, 
 " I have that ce celestial bliss 
 
 " I mean In fineThat is 
 " I now can call my Dorothy my own/* 
 
 \ 
 Tremendous was the pause which now ensued 
 
 Both to the knight and each invited guest, 
 That feelings, which good breeding scorn'd, as rude, 
 
 Might for a time be hidden, or repressed. 
 The mirthful tear fast trickled down the beard : 
 
 O'er all the room, east, west, north, south, 
 Were coughs and hems, and sneezing heard ; 
 Noses were blown, and eyes were wip'd, 
 And bodies bent, pretending to be grip'd ; 
 The handkerchief was stufPd in mouth, 
 
 And every method taken, 
 That bursting laughter might conceal, 
 
 While more or less 
 The sides of all were shaken ; 
 Till Baronet began to guess 
 The joke, which all pretended not to feel ; 
 Or rather not to understand. 
 
142 
 
 The man, \vho best his muscles could command, 
 
 At length the Knight addressed : 
 
 A well known wag was he, 
 Who could affect becoming gravity ; 
 And who, in words like these, himself expressed : 
 
 " Jy ' jy ! Sir John ; give me your hand ! 
 
 " Custom, I see, is but your slave ! 
 " Poor narrow souls and maxims you despise ! 
 tf Sir, you are as prudent as you're wise : 
 " The good you have you would impart ! 
 " Ah, Baronet, you have that happy art ! 
 " You can work miracles! to you 
 
 (f Our friendly thanks are due, 
 <e That dinners so well cook'd you gave ; 
 " And that you've made so good a cook a Lady ! 
 " But, come, we talk too long ; all things are ready : 
 <f Since you have had the happiness to win her, 
 ft Call in my Lady, and serve up the dinner." 
 
 To write this grave eventful Tale 
 Some trouble has been taken ; 
 
143 
 
 But not we hope in vain : 
 For if, in breast of Baronet or Peer, 
 By yawning Indolence impelled, 
 Love should soft sentiments awaken 
 Where bribes and oaths cannot avail, 
 For that or house or cook-maid hath the wit 
 
 To profit by the feverish fit, 
 And to be less than Lady doth disdain, 
 I say, should such events again take place, 
 A lesson for the Lover here 
 
 Is ready written ; 
 
 Teaching how Love begins, not how it ends / 
 A precedent, in our Sir John's sad case; 
 A picture drawn, with sketches of his friends; 
 
 In short, a mirror up is held 
 In which, poor Soul, however deeply smitten, 
 Such rueful Lover may behold his form and face. 
 
THE 
 
 PROGRESS OF GREATNESS. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
THE PROGRESS OF GREATNESS. 
 
 TALE ix. 
 
 You think, perhaps, I mean to treat 
 Of Alfred, well surnam/d The Great ? 
 
 If so, your thoughts are wrong : 
 Nor he nor Alexander is 
 
 The subject of my song. 
 By men, they were called heroes, both, 
 Though I to hold them equal should be loth. 
 
 I hope, you would be mightily distressed, 
 Could the mistake pervade my breast 
 Of once comparing them together ? 
 No ; that were much amiss. 
 
 02 
 
148 
 
 I hold them different, as light and shade ; 
 Or greater difference still, if greater can be made; 
 For one had all the heart could e'er contain 
 Of monarch virtue, justly form/d to reign ! 
 That godlike attribute, which should be king! 
 And govern in its proper right. 
 
 The other no, his frenzies I'll forbear to sing ; 
 
 They never could my heart delight : 
 Except, I take the liberty to say, 
 
 After a madman's whims he ran, 
 That led his greatness mightily astray, 
 And made him arrogant, and proud, and vain 
 As peacock in full feather. 
 
 Indeed, they made him bad enough ! 
 
 They would not once admit self retrospect; 
 
 Nor ever suffered him to recollect 
 
 He was that worm, that clay, that candle snuf 
 
 That paltry, petty creature calPd a man. 
 
149 
 
 Nor think the subject of my lays 
 
 Is Homer, Aristotle, Plato, 
 
 Socrates, Cicero, or Cato : 
 
 I've no pretence such men to praise. 
 
 Nor,' stepping nearer home, 
 
 Expect a Newton, Milton, Shakspeare, forth to come; 
 Nor moralist, philosopher, or bard, 
 Whose noble virtues man can ne'er reward. 
 
 Alas ! a much inferior thing 
 
 My subject is : I sing 
 A sort of petty fogging cub ; 
 A butterfly, that lately had been grub ; 
 
 Who, having mounted, spread the wing, 
 And sippM of all the grateful sweets of spring. 
 They're free to grubs, and butterflies, and vermin : 
 How justly so ? that I shall not determine. 
 
 My story, though 'tis very true, 
 
 Will never be believ'd ; 
 For not by old tales, but by new, 
 
 Can men be now deceived, 
 o 3 
 
150 
 
 They're much too wise, or cunning grown 
 To credit lies except their own. 
 
 I say, my tale i* old ; for how 
 Can scoundrel knaves, like those I paint, be now 
 Discovered ? Pray, Sir, tell me where, 
 Your men of this description are ? 
 
 THE TALE. 
 
 A country lawyer had a spark, 
 Whom he resolv'd to send to school ; 
 For he, by many a sage remark, 
 Pronounc'd the boy was not a fool j 
 And Rumour said that he himself, 
 Known as a most sagacious elf, 
 To yield, in legal quirk, would scorn 
 To any pettifogger born. 
 
 His plans were laid, and pains were taken 
 The quick young faculties to waken, 
 And give the boy that watchful ar^ 
 Which fits the man to act his part 
 
151 
 
 Abroad, at home, in church, or state, 
 And, right or wrong, to make him great. 
 
 " Dear Bob ! pet lamb of dear Mamma ! 
 
 te 'And quite the picture of papa, 
 
 " In every trick, as well as face ! 
 
 " God bless the child, and grant him grace! 
 
 " A darling ! he has wit at will ! 
 
 te He'll thrive, in any rank, or station. 
 
 " His anticks make my bosom thrill " 
 
 Mamma, surcharged with admiration, 
 
 Exclaim'd. 
 
 " Yes, Bob will come in play : 
 ts He'll eat his bread, and save his bacon ; 
 " He'll feel his road, and work his way, 
 " Go where he will, or I'm mistaken," 
 The chuckling quibbling Sire replied, 
 And viewM his proper work with pride. 
 
 To school Bob went, and soon arose 
 The seed which young example sows. 
 
152 
 
 To pilfer, trick, and overreach, 
 Are lessons many fathers teach ; 
 And, being once well taught, I wot, 
 They are not easily forgot ; 
 For teaching, be it bad or good, 
 By children soon is understood ; 
 In whatsoever soil 'tis found, 
 Horse-radish like, 't overruns the ground. 
 
 Bob's fruitful brain, for ever prone 
 
 To make whatever he HkM his own, 
 
 Show hjm plum pudding, or mince pies, 
 
 Could many a stratagem devise ; 
 
 Within his reach or knowledge put 
 
 Tart, apple, orange, pear, or nut, 
 
 He'd find some means to make the owner 
 
 A willing, or unwilling, donor; 
 
 And tit-bit would he often eat, 
 
 By promise now, and now by threat. 
 
 Your orator is wondrous clear, 
 While he inspires or hope, or fear; 
 
153 
 
 And safest can his end obtain, 
 
 By promis'd good, or threatened pain. 
 
 Your jocky, when the passions goad. 
 Will seldom stay to pick his road : 
 Few are his scruples, as to means; 
 Success the fuller's earth, that cleans. 
 The race he runs the race to win ; 
 Sans time to think of shame, or sin. 
 
 Your alderman, at city feast 
 
 A willing and voracious guest, 
 
 The banquet every sense bewitching, 
 
 Never once recollects the kitchen : 
 
 Sav'ry the meat, he takes no care 
 
 Of how 'twas dress'd, or when, or where : 
 
 He needs nor begging nor entreating, 
 
 To the delicious act of eating ! 
 
 Bob had all these propensities, 
 His cause to gain, his palate please : 
 Of hope and fear he knew the use ; 
 Of passions never fear'd th' abuse ; 
 
154 
 
 O^ sin or shame but little dread 
 E'er warm'd his heart, or coolM his head. 
 Let him but eat, he never knew 
 What was to cook, or kitchen, due. 
 
 Old time will souls like his case-harden. 
 Having observed, in neighbour's garden, 
 Choice fruit, and ripe, nectarine and peach, 
 Hanging almost within his reach, 
 Tempting to taste, and guessing they 
 Might not be there another day, 
 AbsorbM by this portentous fear, 
 Finding the coast as he thought clear, 
 To danger dead, alive to pleasure, 
 He leap'd the gate, and seiz'd the treasure ; 
 
 Incautious haste is oft betray'd : 
 
 The necessary noise he made 
 
 An active cur brought from the house, 
 
 That flew at Bob, like cat at mouse, 
 
 And, by his yelping, brought his master ; 
 
 Who, ripe in years, and partly blind, 
 
 Could only guess at his disaster, 
 
155 
 
 But in pursuit was left behind, 
 By our alert and cunning thief. 
 
 From further dangers new relief, 
 Bob well remember'd, he must gain ; 
 Or what was done was done in vain : 
 Inquest would through the school be made ; 
 And, somehow, he was much afraid, 
 He was in much suspicion held : 
 Nay, he might chance to be expell'd 
 The school, should this fine trick get wind ; 
 Therefore, a substitute to find, 
 He quickly glanc'd his eye around, 
 And soon ill-fated proxy found. 
 
 A boy there was, of doubtful fame, 
 
 (How great an ill is an ill name !) 
 
 Who ne'er had felt or feignM contrition, 
 
 Though often brought in great suspicion 
 
 By cunning Bob, who tricks had play'd him, 
 
 And frequently the scape-goat made him. 
 
 Innocence thinks itself secure : 
 
 The foolish boy was proud though poor ; 
 
156 
 
 And, through the world, in every time, 
 Poverty has been held a crime, 
 Which is condemned before it's heard, 
 And worse than any fiend is fearM. 
 If fell suspicion chance t' alight 
 On poverty, maintained with pride, 
 Each fact, however weak and slight, 
 Is proof, that cannot be denied. 
 
 Talbot, for so the boy we call, 
 Engaged at cricket, top, or ball, 
 Stripped off his coat, t' enjoy the sport, 
 And left it, careless, in the court, 
 While eager he ran every way, 
 Intent upon his fav'rite play. 
 
 The occasion luckily was watch'd, 
 And Bob the willing moment snatch'd, 
 (That he might 'scape the dreaded whip) 
 To fruit purloinM in pocket slip 
 Of Talbot. 
 
 Bob foresaw, in time, 
 The hue and cry that follows crime : 
 
157 
 
 A theft detaiPd, a thief accus'd, 
 
 The master heard, and heard confus'd ! 
 
 The boys were summon'd, each by name : 
 In various troops they running came. 
 The plaintiff Bob began to note ; 
 At least the colour of his coat : 
 Talbot's, alas, was much the same ; 
 For chance brings innocence to shame 
 Rather too often. Bob appear'd 
 As free as if he nothing fear'd. 
 Which way could he commit the theft ? 
 The play-ground he had never left ! 
 
 Culprits, who would their guilt disguise, 
 Will boldly venture bare-fac'd lies. 
 
 The neighbour wishM his thoughts t* explore ; 
 The master fix'd his eye ; nay, more, 
 The cur bark'd at him ; yet he stood 
 Pirm as a rock, his conscience good 
 (That wicked conscience quakM with fear) 
 Search would make him a saint appear ! 
 VOL. i. p 
 
158 
 
 He scorn'd sach acts, the charge defied, 
 And begg'd he might be fairly tried. 
 
 The master thus thrown into doubt, 
 
 Decreed, wishing the fact were out, 
 
 And art by art to countermine, 
 
 A pocket search. " Oh, pray search mine ! 
 
 " And mine ! And mine V the general cry. 
 
 While Bob, his innocence t' imply, 
 
 Stood impudently forth the first ! 
 
 Ah ! who shall know the best from worst ? 
 What man can think, and not think grieving, 
 That seeing is not always b'lieving ! 
 
 Who but must pity honest Talbot ? 
 He, with astonishment, was all but 
 Moon-struck mad ! quite confounded ! dumb ! 
 Nectarine could not in pocket come 
 Except by hand insidious ! base ! 
 But how that treacherous hand to trace 
 He knew not : he, to virtue true, 
 Of vice had never caught the clue. 
 
159 
 
 Standing condemned, by seeming fact, 
 As author of th' atrocious act, 
 Disdaining fear, he held it fit 
 With manly courage to submit ; 
 While flaws in skin were made, so deep 
 They might have taught a Turk to weep I 
 Yet Bob unmov'd beheld the sight; 
 Or rather took extreme delight, 
 When lash infernal seem'd to fall, 
 In wit that savM his back from thrall : 
 Holding him an egregious elf, 
 Who wanted sympathy for self; 
 A ware in which he largely dealt : 
 Such wants by him were never felt* 
 
 Of life whoe'er surveys the race, 
 In trick of boy the man will trace : 
 Let it but hang within his reach, 
 If he will gladly steal a peach, 
 Make him the guardian of it, he 
 Will rob a royal treasury ; 
 And lay it, should the crime be known, 
 With art on shoulders not his own. 
 
160 
 
 Thus statesmen first begin with tricks 
 That pave the way to politics. 
 
 Take but his word, no man so good ! 
 
 Wise laws ! he's first of those that make 'em I 
 
 Not to have justice understood 
 
 But that he may more safely break 'em. 
 
 He will announce himself as one 
 
 Who never from his duty swerves ! 
 
 " He hath the state high service done, 
 
 " And therefore high reward deserves !" 
 
 I do not much delight in punning ; 
 Nor hanging hold in estimation ; 
 Yet own, if scoundrel can, such cunning 
 Deserves the Haman exaltation. 
 
 Of Bob the future features, here, 
 On paper slightly sketched appear : 
 They were too deep for outline rude 
 To give him, in full attitude. 
 
161 
 
 With ripening years comes ripening fame ; 
 Bob's at the bar, acquires a name, 
 And shows a spirit prompt to league 
 With demagogues, but keeps intrigue' 
 Hunting, full scent, by night or day, 
 Up the back stairs, or any way, 
 Public or private, dirty or clean, 
 Taking good care not to be seen, 
 Till royal ear he has accosted; 
 Then forth he comes, a bold apostate 
 To principle, and party-friends ; 
 They were but means to gain his ends. 
 
 From prejudice at once set free> 
 
 No one so loyal now as he ! 
 
 After political new birth, 
 
 Oh ! the most ^Uer'd man on earth ! 
 
 With ancient patriots now he'll vie ! 
 
 Yes ! for his country gladly die ! 
 
 Though dreadful dangers round him spring, 
 
 He'll die, or damn, to serve his king ! 
 
ifca 
 
 He ! who a month ago was known 
 T' assault and stigmatize the throne ! 
 He ! who had tried to circumvent 
 Each plan, and act, of government ! 
 He ! who, to bribes, and tricks of state, 
 Had vow'd an everlasting hate ! 
 
 Yes, he, well known from early youth, 
 
 As void of principle as truth, 
 
 The holy Paul's advice now takes ; 
 
 All things t' all men himself he makes; 
 
 Prays with the bigot, thinks as he thinks; 
 
 Whores with the rake ; with drunkard drinks ; 
 
 With bishop pious; just with judge; 
 
 Will e'en to tabernacle trudge, 
 
 And is, that he his thoughts may mask all, 
 
 With Methodist, a canting rascal. 
 
 For high church rule he now contends, 
 And all the D.D.'s are his friends : 
 Did presbyter prevail, then he 
 Would presbyterian hero be : 
 
163 
 
 Really from rule of right to swerve, 
 And serve the Devil, himself to serve. 
 
 Oh, that I had the power to paint 
 
 The virtues of this modern saint ! 
 
 This statesman, through his whole behaviour; 
 
 Of king and commonwealth the saviour ! 
 
 This politician, who had made 
 
 His tricks an ample branch of trade ! 
 
 And, when those tricks were reprehended^ 
 
 Replied, such politics demanded ! 
 
 This Mandeville, who would debate 
 
 That vice, committed for the state, 
 
 Was virtue in supreme degree ! 
 
 Beyond reward ! and therefore, he 
 
 Deserved a monarch's favor, most, 
 
 Who greatest wickedness could boast ! 
 
 Provided he could but pretend 
 
 That king and country 't would befriend. 
 
 Deceit, and artifice, and lies, 
 Which others fear, hate, and despise, 
 
164 
 
 In statesman shone, with so much lustre. 
 That Fame and Honor ne'er could muster 
 Enough of each, on him to heap ! 
 
 Well, let the State his conscience keep ; 
 For that he'd sell his soul to th' Devil! 
 No, pot for that, but for all evil, 
 Base, vile, contemptible, no matter, 
 If his self love it would but flatter. 
 
 Yes, he would banish, hang, defame -, 
 The good against the good enflame ; 
 The public mind with hatred fill; 
 The mortal poison would instil 
 Of black dissension, through each breast, 
 Till mutual dread all men possessed ; 
 Tales would disperse, atrocious lies, 
 Of plots ne'er dreamt of; send his spies, 
 In swarms t' infest the social hour, 
 When heart oppress'd is apt to pour 
 Its anxious thoughts, and freely vent 
 False fears, perhaps, or discontent : 
 
165 
 
 On words he'd seize, from words distort, 
 By false surmise or false report, 
 Treason, or man to be suspected.. 
 
 From these base arts none were protected ; 
 Till friends, nay brothers, doubt must feel 
 Whether they durst their thoughts reveal ; 
 And men became, from his tuition, 
 Slaves of reciprocal suspicion. 
 
 All this he'd boast, with heart elate, 
 He did to serve the king, and state ! 
 
 Such was his plea, for action vicious : 
 May God confound plea so pernicious ! 
 May God confound such wicked elf, 
 And turn his doctrine on himself! 
 
 If to his origin we look, 
 Who shall describe the strides he took ? 
 Who his adventures shall describe, 
 With curs'd Corruption's venal tribe ? 
 
166 
 
 Shall paltry rhymes pretend to note 'em 
 No ; Lucifer alone could quote 'em : 
 Folios for them were insufficient ; 
 Unknown to all except th' Omniscient I 
 
 His epitaph, common-place lies, 
 Will tell how great he was, how wise ! 
 He soar'd betimes, and high his flight : 
 Suppose him in eternal night, 
 And then allow that we record, 
 He liv'd a rogue, and died a Lord ! 
 
THE 
 
 KING AND THE SHEPHERD. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
THE 
 
 KING AND THE SHEPHERD, 
 
 TALE X. 
 
 A FABLE is a tale ; a tale's a fable ; 
 A toy that's made for children of full growth. 
 " But to make either useful are you able?" 
 Lord ! Ask an author that ! Useful ? Yes, both. 
 
 Both tale and fable will instruct, delight ; 
 
 Essence of intellect will make of clay ! 
 
 Sir, all great qualities in them unite ; 
 
 And those who write them are as great as they. 
 
 Who would not be th' immortal La Fontaine ? 
 Immortal ? Yes, immortal ! Where's the sin ? 
 The rhyming race, you cannot call them vain, 
 Make rhymes and immortality a kin. 
 VOL. i. Q 
 
170 
 
 Horace, a thousand others, I could name, 
 Attribute immortality to song ; 
 I stickle, like the rest, for dead man's fame ; 
 I may not be immortal half so long. 
 
 My immortality may end next week, 
 Or, oh ecstatic thought ! may last a year. 
 I might the Morning Post itself bespeak, 
 But that its praise is grown so devilish dear. 
 
 Yes, immortality may soon be said ^ 
 A word of great importance it became : 
 There's Orpheus, tho' so long he has been dead, 
 Is to this hour immortaliz'd by name. 
 
 Homer ! Shakspeare ! Pestilence take olp! time I 
 His feats fill half the living bards with sorrow. 
 I mention La Fontaine, sweet child of rhyme A 
 Because from him I am about to borrow.. 
 
 Also because, o' th j poet tribe, but few 
 On this said immortality can draw, 
 
171 
 
 Value receiv'd, like him, good bill and true A 
 Conformable to high poetic law. 
 
 He says, I therefore venture to premise, 
 Two master passions rule the human race ; 
 Ambition, love ; to them all sacrifice : 
 Observe, Ambition wears a changeful face 5 
 
 Love of renown, for this thing or for that, 
 Is but Ambition, call it what you will : 
 The vanity of ribband, lace, gown, hat, 
 Cap, shawl, or bonnet, is ambition still : 
 
 As mischievous, tho' paltry, that I grant ; 
 It differs only in degree, and kind : 
 'Tis often rnad, and prone to foam and rant; 
 And, oft'ner still, like pauper, lame and blind. 
 
 E'en rival Drunkenness and Gluttony, 
 Altho' perhaps in general they seem 
 Scarcely to rank above beastiality, 
 Will of Ambition oft pretend to dream. 
 Q2 
 
172 
 
 One glories in the tuns he can devour ; 
 Another in the flavor of his table ; 
 Each vaunts above his rival he can tow'r, 
 And the prodigious feats of which he's able ! 
 
 Your Drunkard, who so beastly vain as he ? 
 Pshaw ! Drunkard and Glutton ! I really hate 'em ! 
 To give them troughs, hog like, should men decree, 
 Pm greatly wrong if they would underrate 'em. 
 
 But to my tale: I preach too much, for ever, 
 And murder time, that I but mean to kill : 
 To show their little wit, poets endeavour ; 
 Paper they spoil, oceans of ink they spill. 
 
 THE TALE. 
 
 In good old times, not in these sinful days, 
 Folk's then were vastly better, as Pve heard, 
 A shepherd's flock did much a king amaze ; 
 They were so fat and sleek and nicely sheared ; 
 
173 
 
 So num'rous, too, and healthy were their lambs : 
 KilPd and cut up, how would they grace the spit ! 
 Jn shoulders, legs, and loins, they and their dams 
 Seem/d so delightfully for eating fit ! 
 
 The sage king, having pondered, wav'd his hand ; 
 A hundred courtiers, when he beckon'd, flew, 
 And humbly begg'd to hear his high command, 
 That they might show how much to majesty is due. 
 
 The king bad them remark the well fed flock ! 
 " Go ! Tell the Shepherd he must come to Court." 
 They heard amaz'd, as mute as fish call*d stock ! 
 The wink went round" His majesty's in sport." 
 
 They went, but, when they durst, they laugh'd aloud ; 
 On countenance of each there sat a sneer : 
 They calPd the Shepherd " Fellow ! Don't be proucj. 
 But come to Court" ' How ! I at Court appear ?' 
 
 To Court he goes, is honor'd by the king ; 
 Plain sense and honesty are all his knowledge : 
 
174 
 
 His acts of justice thro' the country ring, 
 
 Much more, mayhap, than had he come from college. 
 
 A good old hermit, erst the shepherd's friend, 
 Who heard these things, alarm'd more than amaz'd, 
 Tho' age had made his weary body bend, 
 Hastened to warn the man the king had rais'd. 
 
 His former shepherd comrade soon he sees, 
 Encircl'd by court tribes of parasites, 
 Who worship, basking in the summer breeze, 
 The favor'd sage, in whom the king delights. 
 
 " What do I see ?" he cried : " is it a dream ? 
 " Can you, a man of sense, in courts confide ? 
 " Have you, altho' the waters flowing seem, 
 
 " No apprehension of the turning tide ? 
 
 . 
 
 " I've seen it change, and ebb, alas, too oft I" 
 J Twas thus the hermit spoke, but spoke in vain : 
 At fears like these the vizier-shepherd scofPd : 
 The hermit-friend continued thus his strain. 
 
175 
 
 " Have you the mute forgot ? The silken cord ? 
 " The bow-string ? You ! A man reputed wise ! 
 t Why let your life depend upon a word ? 
 " On danger, when so great, why shut your eyes ? 
 
 " You're the blind traveller, whose whip was lost, 
 " And, groping for it, up a serpent took ; 
 " Harmless at first, because benumbed by frost, 
 " The blind man at his danger could not look, 
 
 " WarnM by a passenger, he did but laugh : 
 
 " He wants it for himself, a cunning hound, 
 
 ff The blind man thought, but I'm too wise by half 
 
 " To cast away the good thing I have found ! 
 
 <e Like this blind man, should you retain your treasure, 
 t( And cherish serpents, warm them with your breath; 
 " Just at the moment when, secure, in pleasure, 
 " You hug them to your heart, they'll sting to death." 
 
 * I know they may/ secure his friend replied, 
 f Yet fear them not: mankind oh let me serve ! 
 
176 
 
 ' Oh, be that true ambition not denied, 
 
 * Pll face the death which I shall not deserve/ 
 
 In vain the hermit talk'd of turmoils, cares, 
 The restless day, the sleepless night, of state : 
 Your virtuous zealot always danger dares, 
 To foolish martyrdom he braves his fate. 
 
 Yes, yes, the man was virtuous. How might he, 
 Honest yet first in office, be endurM ? 
 Whispers, cabals, and calumnies agree, 
 The public wrongs can be but one way cur'd. 
 
 ^ 
 
 } 
 
 Whispers, cabals, and calumnies prevail; 
 The king defends his favorite with pride ; 
 But lands and palaces all tell a tale, 
 Say they, too public much to be denied. 
 
 How ! Lands and palaces ? So says report : 
 Strict search was made, no palaces were found. 
 Away, base minions ! Why to lies resort ? 
 Ah, Sire, not so 1 he builds them under ground. 
 
177 
 
 . What mean you now ? Why with such envy sneer? 
 We mean his strong box and its rich contents. 
 His strong box ? Yes, his strong box Bring it here. 
 Sire, by the groans of men that box augments. 
 
 With joy they fly to execute their task : 
 On ceremony now they do not stand, 
 Nor use soft language, nor permission ask ; 
 They do but execute the king's command. 
 
 Your secret sins will now be brought to light ; 
 Come, Sir, your hoards ! Your treasures ? Where are 
 
 they ? 
 
 Your guilt is visible, we see your fright ; 
 Your strong box and its key ! Quick, quick ! Obey ! 
 
 The monarch comes, much fruitless search is made 
 Thro' private room and door with double lock : 
 In vaia all eyes do ev'ry hole pervade ; 
 Th' accus'd appears to stand firm as a rock. 
 
 At last, as 't were by chance, hopeless almost, 
 Garrets to search one cunning wight proposed : 
 
178 
 
 A coffer there was found, the key was lost, 
 Strong proof of guilt which soon would be disclos'd. 
 
 The monarch bit his lips, as monarchs do 
 When they are very awgry. So, vile slave ! 
 Are you at last discover'd ? All is true ! 
 How have you dar'd thus far my wrath to brave ? 
 
 The vizier-shepherd answered, and His said 
 That as he spoke he wip'd away a tear ; 
 In sorrow, Sire, I bend my guilty head, 
 And never was repentance more sincere. 
 
 Peaceful I fed my flocks, they prospered well, 
 And, while they grazed, no care disturbed my breast ! 
 That coffer now contains what best will tell 
 Why I have sacrificed my peace and rest. 
 
 Then break it open, let me stand condemned ; 
 From your strict justice I make no appeal : 
 I yield to torrents, which cannot be stemmed, 
 There lies the treasure, which my woes will heal. 
 
179 
 
 Hammer was brought, up flew the lid ; behold ! 
 
 Nor gold nor diamonds lay exposed to view ; 
 
 
 But shepherd jacket, rightly 'twas callM old ; 
 
 With clouted shoes, darn'd stockings, far from new. 
 
 There lies my wealth, there lies my sinful store, 
 There lies the whole that simple men require ; 
 There lies what nature wants ; I ask no more ; 
 There lies warm honesty, why more desire ? 
 
 Thanks to my king, to courts farewel, for ever ! 
 To quit their purlieus solemnly I vow : 
 Shall I again change peace for grandeur ? Never ! 
 Farewel my enemies ! Be happy now ! 
 
 OF THE FIRST VOLUME, 
 
Printed by C. Mcrcier and Co. 
 Northumberland-court, Strand, London. 
 
TALES 
 
 VERSE; 
 
 CRITICAL, SATIRICAL, AND HUMOROUS; 
 
 BY THOMAS HOLCROFT. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON; 
 
 PUBLISHED, FOR THE AUTHOR, BY H. D. SYMONDS, 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW, 
 
 1806. 
 
Printed by C. Mercier and Co. 
 Northumberland Court, Strand, London, 
 
THE 
 
 ARAB AND HIS THREE SONS. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 YC ; II. 
 
THE 
 
 ARAB AND HIS THREE SONS. 
 
 TALE XL 
 
 ONCE on a time, as for the day and year 
 They're trifles, that shall ne'er be known, 
 A certain Arab had three children dear ; 
 The simple husband thought them all his own. 
 
 These Arabs, Ma'am, are neither more nor less 
 
 Than mortal men, as I have heard ; 
 With just as many foolish causes of distress 
 As by yourself, or your best friend, are fear'd. 
 
 Their springs of pleasure are as vain, 
 Ay, as the vainest of our own ; 
 And, as for reasons to complain, 
 They'll hunt them out, as dog will hunt for bone, 
 
 B2 
 
When pleasure comes, I have been told, 
 In general, their pain abates : 
 Sensations, such as heat, and cold, 
 
 They feel in all degrees; 
 And they beyond a doubt love figs, and dates, 
 As much as you delight in soups, and fricassees. 
 
 In detail, they may differ, I agree ; 
 
 But, in those things which most the judgment strike. 
 
 Upon my word, I doubt they're plaguey like 
 
 Such silly folks as you and me. 
 They live and die ; and, when they rise again, 
 Their follies too will rise, if they rise men. 
 
 jf they should spring up Saints, who layM down 
 
 Sinners, 
 Why, then but that's beyond my comprehension ; 
 
 They may not or they may ; 
 Such mysteries to teach, IVe no intention : 
 Except, I may be just allowM to say, 
 If they rise Saints, they must be young beginners. 
 
They cannot understand their trade, 
 Unless miraculously they're new made ; 
 But with such sort of things, as I have said, 
 I uever mean again to plague my head. 
 
 Well, these three children dear they all were boys, 
 Born to be you shall hear how great ! 
 
 Unless the devil dulness should be in it, 
 FJJ bid 'em make a wondrous noise ; 
 
 I mean, when they arrive at man's estate ; 
 Which they shall do in half a minute. 
 
 You know that, under blest Arabia's sun, 
 Corn ripens fast ; and so did they ; 
 
 When th' eldest had attain'd just twenty-one, 
 Their father let them gallop all away. 
 
 But not before he gave them some advice ; 
 Little it costs, and seldom does much good : 
 Yet 'tis a tree bears fruit extremely nice, 
 Tho' of digestion hard, unless well chew'd ; 
 And then the cud becomes right wholesome food. 
 
 
tc My soils/' said he, " Fm still but in my prime, 
 " Yet, simple tho' I am, I've somewhat seen ; 
 " Have made some observations, in my time ; 
 " And rambling have in many places been. 
 
 " And I have learn'd, perhaps a day too late, 
 e A rule from which you never ought to swerve; 
 " The man who would become or rich, or great, 
 " While serving of himself, must others serve. 
 
 " Vile selfishness this will be calPd, by youth ; 
 ft But, by the more experienc'd wise, 
 " 'Tis held the rule sublime of moral truth 5 
 " The first and last of moral social ties. 
 
 te In many modes disguisM this rule is seen ; 
 
 " It often makes us laugh, and often weep : 
 
 " This might be shown in country maid, or queen ; 
 
 " Nay in a simple shepherd and his sheep. 
 
" They love his voice, and rude protecting arm ; 
 " They love the barking of their old friend, Tray : 
 " A bite or blow from them does little harm, 
 " And they are friends that drive the wolf away. 
 
 " Tljey love the fodder, and the fold, by night; 
 " He wholesome mutton loves, and woolly fleece : 
 " The tender lamb he nurtures with delight ; 
 " For he grows wealthy by the flock's increase. 
 
 *i Yes, sheep well satisfied to take their ease, 
 " Will ruminate, when they have nibbled grass : 
 " They love to bask, and quaff the noontide breezy 
 tg Quite undisturbed by boys, or curs, that pass. 
 
 " And Shepherd loves, as Pve already said, 
 " The wool that keeps him warm, and flesh of mut- 
 ton ; 
 
 " For they will feed, and clothe, and buy him bread, 
 " And give the means to make himself a glutton, 
 
 " Should he be that way prone ; 
 " Tho' that's the vice of grov'ling souls, I own. 
 
ts Then learn of them, my sons, if not of me, 
 
 " To work the good of others : that's the mode 
 
 c< To make yourselves as happy, r : ch, and free, 
 
 " As man may hope, in this terrene abode. 
 
 ee You now are ardent, all, to see the world, 
 
 " And tempt that fortune which, alas, will try you: 
 
 " I know the wheel on which you will be whirled, 
 
 " And feel reluctance, but must not deny you. 
 
 " For youth, in pow'r untried, is confident ; 
 
 " Then go, provided each will truly swear, 
 
 " In twenty years, whatever may be th' event, 
 
 " To learn if Pm alive, you'll here repair." 
 
 In haste this oath they took, away they flew, 
 More eager far to go than to learn wisdom : 
 The doating father bad his boys adieu ! 
 And each conjur'd to let him hear of his doom, 
 
They travelled North, South, East, or West ; ' 
 For different men are differently inclined : 
 I mean, each took the road that pleasM him best-> 
 Or where he hop'd he .should good fortune find. 
 
 Whether on Camel, Fairy, or Afreet, 
 They soar'd aloft, or jogg'd along below, 
 Or what the dangers were they chanc'd to 
 I cannot say, because I do not know. 
 
 And now, some things I might have told before 
 I take this opportunity to tell: 
 Videlicet, their gifts, what name they bore, 
 And how each brother thought he might excel!. 
 
 Amram, the eldest, was a man, complete, 
 As far as fighting went ; to danger blind, 
 His brothers and the village boys he beat, 
 And proudly thought he could beat all mankind 
 
10 
 
 GiafFar, the second, was a cunning youth ; 
 Knew when to own a trick, and when deny it : 
 Could argue either side ; and, as for truth, 
 He'd tell it when he hop'd to profit by it. 
 
 Cosrou, the youngest, had the gift of speech ; 
 His oratory was most persevering ; 
 He could narrate, could argue, or could preach^ 
 And talk till people weary were of hearing. 
 
 Now such like talents, in themselves, contain 
 Wealth, honor, land, all that by men is sought ; 
 Whatever makes them pert, and proud, and vain, 
 Provided they're to market rightly brought. 
 
 Well, being men of parts, each chose his court, 
 Or city, fame for himself to make : 
 Describe each place I will not, e'en in sport; 
 That were to run the danger of mistake. 
 
11 
 
 And let me whisper slily in your ear 
 
 (I love to clear the way, Sir, as I go) 
 
 In books more learn'd than this, I greatly fear, 
 
 Authors describe places they do not know. 
 
 But of the strange odd accidents of life, 
 Which might ensnare men, if that they befell 'em, 
 With any such, if I should chance to meet, 
 Upon my word, I shall delight to tell 'em. 
 
 And first the man of war, the fighting blade, 
 Whose prowess made both wise and foolish wonder, 
 He found that enemies the more he made, 
 The more he had to conquer, kill, and plunder. 
 
 Revengeful wrath became his daily bread ; 
 Oh with what gusto did he hurl defiance ! 
 He scornM him, who went peaceably to bed ; 
 With slaughter, wounds, and death, he sought alliance. 
 
12 
 
 He from compassion felt himself exempt; 
 His business with mankind was t' inflame 'em : 
 Your quiet souls he held in high contempt, 
 For he by quarrelling could only tame 'em. 
 
 That heroes were destroyers well he knew, 
 For he had read their wondrous praise in story ; 
 The more infernal mischiefs they could do 
 The brighter blaz'd that circle callM their glory. 
 
 Well, let us then suppose him, for the present, 
 Reaping vast crops of famine, sword, and fire; 
 Of which I may speak more, they being pleasant, 
 When time and circumstances shall require. 
 
 Giaffar was likewise not averse to fighting ; 
 That is, in wordy wars ; they broke no bones : 
 Far the reverse, 'twas them he did delight in; 
 pav'd the road of life with precious stones, 
 
13 
 
 jiaffar the Alcoran profoundly studied ; 
 He, from what darkness was, made light appear 
 And, when his intellect he most had muddied, 
 His proofs and arguments were held most clear. 
 
 Yes, he, among the wranglers of the nation, 
 Aspir'd to rank the first, if that might be : 
 For 'twas the road to office high, and station, 
 Which most would with his windgall hopes agree. 
 
 As for the young and eloquent Cosrou, 
 He that could talk so well, at least so long, 
 He had his plans for fame and money, too ; 
 But he thought fit to traffic in sing-song. 
 
 Poor hair-brain'd youth ! Methinks he merits pity ! 
 How might such expectations e'er be real ? 
 Verse having hammered, oh ! 'twas vastly pretty : 
 His happiness was gloriously ideal ! 
 
 VOL. II, C 
 
14 
 
 By color, shade, and secret sympathy, 
 Agate, or ruby, he could bring in play ; 
 And make them stutter charming repartee. 
 To all that allegoric flow'r could say. 
 
 He liv'd, it may be said, in fairy land ; 
 He could not into difficulties fall : 
 No doubt you guess Fd have you understand, 
 Genii were always ready at his call. 
 
 Happy the Bard, with whom they're hand and glove ! 
 He can induce these gentlemen, with ease, 
 To fetch and carry, fight or fall in love, 
 <Dr build him diamond castles, if he please. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 'Tis true ; away the twenty years are flown ! 
 I'd have you not express so much surprise ! 
 In fact, or fancy, years are quickly gone ; 
 In that we all agree, both fools and wise. 
 
15 
 
 Consoling thought ! Who but would laugh at pain ? 
 Yes, and at troubles, griefs, vexations, crosses ? 
 We only die you know to live again : 
 How paltry then are mundane gains, and losses ! 
 
 grave solemn truth, which I advance : 
 Again the Sons their native air inhale. 
 Why should you think I only talk romance, 
 When, in this serious tone, I tell my tale. 
 
 Much wise philosophy by time is taught : 
 Their father, happy in his blest retreat, 
 Found with an ardent hope his bosom fraught ; 
 Which was their solemn oath, again to meet. 
 
 The shepherd life in humble guise he led, 
 And pasture sought where most it was redundant ; 
 His cattle were his care, were they well fed, 
 And safe, he thought the gifts of God abundant. 
 e 2 
 
16 
 
 In gentle labors pass'd his years away, 
 Errant, yet constant to his native plain ; 
 Never to distant countries would he stray^ 
 He hop'd at home to meet his sons again. 
 
 And home they come ! upon the neck of each 
 The old man fondly hangs, and freely weeps. 
 Oh, such a scene ! But I've no time to preach : 
 Beside, I'm wretched when the reader sleeps. 
 
 I doubt Pm often wretched ! Well, so be 't. 
 His joy grown calm, the father would prevail, 
 Finding his curiosity was great, 
 On each adventurer to tell his tale. 
 
 " How have you sped, my sqns? What have you seen? 
 
 (C Many misfortunes have you had, I fear ! 
 
 " What monarchs have you serv'd? Where have 
 
 you been ? 
 f< And were you wise, or foolish ? Let me hear ! 
 
17 
 
 " All of you smile ! ay, ay, your thoughts I guess : 
 " Foolish we cannot think ourselves, in youth : 
 " But self-applause will not make folly less : 
 " Begin ! Your stories best will speak the truth : 
 
 t Yes, youth : to me, your father, you are young. 
 *' To th' active, ages are containM in years ; 
 " You think the period since we parted long : 
 " To me, but yesterday that time appears." 
 
 Till dinner had been eaten, this request 
 Could not be made, Pd have you well suppose : 
 The soldier took for granted he spoke best ; 
 Beside, he was the eldest, up he rose. 
 
 THE SOLDIER'S TALE. 
 
 x I have a soldier been ; behold these scars, 
 
 * This eye, this arm, this mutilated frame ! 
 
 * In fields and towns, that flam'd with horrid wars, 
 ' Yes, in the cannon's mouth, I sought for fame. 
 
 c3 
 
18 
 
 ' For fame I sought and fought, where death and life 
 c Were so promiscuous they were oft mistaken ! 
 ( In smoke and thunder, glorious was the strife ! 
 ' ScofPd at was he, who pity would awaken. 
 
 ' Here men have writh'd in agonizing pain ! 
 
 ' Here bodies, limbs, and heads, have strew'd the 
 
 ground ; 
 ' While thousands gnash'd the teeth, and caliM in 
 
 vain 
 On death t' inflict a last relieving wound. 
 
 f Rivers have I forded, cities have sack'd, 
 
 ' Batter'd their ramparts, climbM their counter*. 
 
 scarps : 
 
 ' To find his treasure have the ruler rack'd ; 
 ' Matrons have ravishM on the husband corpse : 
 
 f Kingdoms have plundered, lands laid desolate : 
 ' The Sultan bad me march, his foes invade ; 
 * With famine, fire, and sword exterminate ! 
 ' His dread commands proudly have I obey'd ! 
 
ft 
 
 ' Many and dreadful battles have I Fought ; 
 ' Defenceless towns and provinces have plundered ; 
 ' While at the wealthy spoils which home were brought 
 * The Sultan, yes, the Sultan, oft has wonder'd. 
 
 * I was his sword ! his adamantine shield ! 
 
 * His tree of safety ! where he' might repose ; 
 
 ' His arm of thunderl' winch* Vhe'' Sofitffebuld 4 wield, 
 ' And hurl destruction on retelKoustoes! 
 
 Oh, while I speak, heave not my swelling heart ! 
 ParchM lips, and clammy tongue, your functions keep ! 
 From my tried temper never let me part : 
 No, let an injured soldier scorn to weep !' 
 
 The Sire replied " If all you say be true, 
 " If acts so mischievous be yours, my son, 
 " Others have far more cause to weep than you, 
 " Whatever has befall'n you ! But, go w on !" 
 
20 
 
 ' How ! They compared to me ! More cause than I ! 
 r You strangely, Sir, forget yourself! " Or you I* 
 The father answered with a heart-felt sigh 
 Good man ! He gave to pity pity's due. 
 
 ' Please, Sir, to hear my wrongs and then decide : 
 ' The Sultan's sister, young, of beauty rare, 
 ( With her, whom I aspir'd to make my bride, 
 ( Divinest Houries only might compare : 
 
 ' I say, if not from Mahomet descended, 
 ' Enough I prov'd myself of race divine ! 
 ' My arm the Sultan from his foes defended ; 
 ' Full right had I to call his sister mine. 
 
 ' She heard my fame ; in secret did she sigh ; 
 e Should I refuse the love she frankly gave ? 
 ' For such a pearl, should I not wish to die ? 
 e I, who so long had danger learn'd (o brave ? 
 
21 
 
 * The high Seraglio walls I nightly scal'd; 
 ' Oh, prophet Mahomet ! Oh, paradise ! 
 
 ' What had ye more to give? 'Fragrance exhal'd 
 
 * My ravish VI sense soon -as Ttoet her eye*. 
 
 ' Curs'd chance ! ScarWhad'bur hfcf>piriess%egun 
 ' When he, the Sultan,- Unfcuspeottfd "tame ^' 
 < And I, a hero ! glad to hide"; or 1 run ! 
 * That thus I might conceal unwonted shame ! 
 
 ' Of love soon great revenge supplied the place: 
 ' The Soldier's fav'rite, I, who then should dare 
 ' Attempt my life, or cast on me disgrace ? 
 * Ay, Sultan tho j he was, let him beware ! 
 
 ' Comrades, to arms ! revenge your captain's wrongs ! 
 ' Aloud I cry, and they as quickly hear ; 
 c Vengeance to my resistless arm belongs ! 
 Behold rebellion seize her bleeding spear ! 
 
22 
 
 s Soon was the Sultan taught to dread my pow'r I 
 * The flaming citadel, th' ensanguined plain, 
 ' TV increasing wretchedness of each red hour, 
 c For mercy bad him call he callM in vain ! 
 
 ' At length, the day arriv'd ! th' eventful day, 
 When empire hung suspended 1 fearful gaz'd 
 ' The general eye, and well prepar'd t' obey 
 ' The front on which the star of victory blaz'd ! 
 
 1 Oh, fatal star ! Yes, fatal ! 'twas decreed ! 
 c For fate alone could stand opposM to me ! 
 
 * In vain did henries weep, and heroes bleed ; 
 
 * Allah ! Great Allah ! All must bend to thee ! 
 
 c Sultan, I gall'd thy heart ! What tho' I fled ! 
 ' No more shalt thou suppose thy pow'r supreme ! 
 ' My name for ever shalt thou hold in dread ! 
 ( Of cities in revolt shalt nightly dream ! 
 
23 
 
 Inflam'd his visage was, and hoarse his voice, 
 Madman, while he continued thus to rave ! 
 Could he in acts of horror so rejoice ? 
 Deep was the sigh his good old father gave. 
 
 ** Peace to the peasant thou hast taught to groan ! 
 " Peace to th' afflicted world !" the father said, 
 " Peace to the Sultan ! Safety to his throne ! 
 " Allah be prais'd !" He cried, and bow'd his head. 
 
 " Giaffar, thy turn is come, I wait to hear 
 " Tale of a softer kind, and less affright ; 
 " In wars and wretchedness, to be sincere, 
 " I cannot say, my sons, that I delight." 
 
 THE TALE OF THE CADI. 
 
 Giaffar began ' Good sooth to say, 
 
 ' The things I shall rehearse 
 * Are of the motley kind, that make 
 
 A tragi-comic farce. 
 
24 
 
 If I my brother's war discourse 
 ' Have rightly comprehended, 
 In tragedy his deeds began, 
 ' In tragedy have ended. 
 
 He led the faithful : would you think it ? 
 
 ( I f Sir, have been a Cadi ! 
 By cunning Quean was I deposed ; 
 
 ' Plague take her wit so ready ! 
 
 ' The Koran deeply had I conn'd, 
 ' And studied day and night : 
 
 * To clearly prpye that right was wrong 
 * I made my whole delight. 
 
 * The sense of words to turn, and twist, 
 ' Expert was I, and cunning : 
 
 ' I drain'd the stores of that great art, 
 * Yclept the art of punning. 
 
25 
 
 * A subtle Casuist I beoame ; 
 
 * To bully, fright, or wheedle, 
 
 e I well knew howVantf when, and why, 
 
 ' 
 
 * If T would solve a^rjddle. 
 
 ' Often the guileless lost his cause, 
 
 * The guilty was set free; 
 * For I to ev'ry human heart 
 
 * Appear'd to keep a key. 
 
 * In time, my justice grew so great, 
 ' I held its price so high, 
 
 * Decision false I never gave 
 ' Unless / well knew why. 
 
 v 
 ' Among the high, the highest oft 
 
 ' My favor would importune ; 
 ' Till I supposed that J could laugh 
 
 ' At ev'ry freak of fortune. 
 
 VOL. II. D 
 
26 
 
 r In ease and opulence I liv'd, 
 ' Respected was my name, 
 
 * Till, one unlucky day, for aid, 
 A stranger lady came. 
 
 Modest her mien ; her vestment rich ; 
 ' A veil conceaPd her face ; 
 Her form was fine ; her voice was sweet ; 
 ' Her action full of grace I 
 
 The tale she told she told so well, 
 ' In accents so divine 
 How happy should I be, thought I, 
 f Were that sweet creature mine ! 
 
 " To you, my lord," she weeping said, 
 
 " Humbly to you I kneel : 
 " To you for justice am I come : 
 
 <( Oh, hear my wrongs, and heal ! 
 
27 
 
 Cf My husband once a man of wealth^ 
 
 " Alas! he's so no more 
 " In former times, the child of woe 
 
 " Sent smiling from his door. 
 
 Of him no tongue that ask'd relief 
 
 " Was ever then denied : 
 
 The wretch, who made misfortune known, 
 
 " Was liberally supplied. 
 
 How many friends, as they professed, 
 " To him indebted live ! 
 Base men ! they shun his wretched door ; 
 " He has no more to give ! 
 
 " This, tho' severe, might yet be borne ; 
 
 " But darts, more venom'd still, 
 " By arm of faithless friend, are hurl'd, 
 
 " Honor to wound, or kill. 
 r.2 
 
28 
 
 An Affakih, calPd Muhmuhd, owes 
 " A thousand gold sequins; 
 Which sum my husband hop'd he'd 
 " For well has he the means. 
 
 To him Pve been, to him have told 
 te The sorrows of his friend; 
 And this grave Doctor seemM inclined 
 " A piteous ear to lend. 
 
 Oh, vile deceit! Oh; heart of man ! 
 " I blush to tell my taie 
 He praisM my graceful air, and begg'd 
 " I'd cast abide my veil. 
 
 He talk'd of friendship! honor! truth! 
 " Such protestations made! 
 Urging his suit, till I, at length, 
 " Reluctantly obey'd. 
 
29 
 
 " Prophet, thou hear'st me while I speak ! 
 
 " My heart was free from guile 
 " He praisM ray beauteous cheeks and lips, 
 
 " My fascinating smile. 
 
 " My husband ! Oh, a friend so kind ! ' 
 " He lov'd him more and more ! 
 
 fe But me, the wife of that dear friend, 
 " What could he but adore ? 
 
 
 So warm at length his wishes grew, 
 " His speech and arts so free, 
 That how his vile designs would end 
 " I could not well foresee. 
 
 If! would grant what he requir'd, 
 *' Too much I could not ask ! 
 " All he possess'd should then be mine 1 
 " And trifling was the task ! 
 
30 
 
 " If not he made a solemn pause J 
 
 " He'd think the matter o'er : 
 " In fine he could not tell at last 
 
 " It so must be, he wore/' \ 
 
 .-- . 
 
 f . 
 
 te Curs'd hypocrite ! I can't repeat 
 The nauseous words he spoke : 
 
 " Language that must the sainted ear 
 " Of chastity provoke. 
 
 " Unless I bent to his desires, 
 ft By marriage faith abus'd, 
 
 (t My husband's courtesy to pay 
 <f He wickedly refus'd. 
 
 " I hastened then to our Wallee, 
 
 -.- * . 
 " And made my trufe ctfftjpl ( a,iat ; 
 
 " To him did I our deep distress, 
 " In modest colours, paint. 
 
31 
 
 Muhmuhd's injustice I rehears'd ; 
 " Kis strange ingratitude ; 
 His base behaviour tow'rd his friend ; 
 " To me his manners rude. 
 
 As your great Officer, my lord, 
 " I hop'd, from this Waliee, 
 The just redress my husband claims, 
 " Manly respect to me. 
 
 4t Oh, could you onoe, great Sir, have thought 
 
 " That he, this man of law, 
 " Would make th' attempt a faithful wife 
 
 *' r P ensnare, and overawe ? 
 
 . 
 
 " Na less depravM than th' AlfakiK, 
 
 " He will not interfere, 
 '* Unless to him I sacrifice 
 
 " What is than life more dear ! 
 
32 
 
 " Great Cadi, just, and high in pow'r, 
 
 " To you I now appeal ! 
 " The public wounds of weak distress 
 
 " 'Tis your delight to heal." 
 
 * In short, the baggage spoke so well, 
 
 ' With voice and look so sweet, 
 
 * And such, unveil'd, her beauties were, 
 
 < Behold me at her feet ! 
 
 ' Houri of paradise ! I cried ; 
 
 ' Well might such charmer flounce 
 * At pretty scoundrels, like to these ! 
 
 ' But Fll the rascals trounce ! 
 
 e Can they suppbse themselves your peers ? 
 
 ' A creature so divine ! 
 ' Those charms I view with holy awe ! 
 
 ' Oh, that those charms were mine ! 
 
33 
 
 Fear not ; your wrongs shall be redress'd ; 
 ' I pledge my sacred wtfrdl 
 I am your bulwark ! i/wlio wield 
 ' The mighty prophet's sword ! 
 
 * Inquiries having promised, I 
 
 ' Dismissed the lady, then ; 
 
 * And begg'd that, after evening 
 
 * She'd please to call again. 
 
 * I trembled, promis'd, smil'd, and sigh/d 5 
 
 * She had bewitch'd me, sure ! 
 
 * I bath'd, perfum'd, and all performed 
 
 ' That might the sense ajliire. 
 
 1 Bv women, handsome Pvb bceu held*: 
 * * * 
 
 ' The city fear'd Vny pow r r : 
 
 * And I secure suppos'cl myself ' 
 
 ** ' m, 
 
 * Accurs'd ill-fated hour ! 
 
* True to the time, again she came: 
 'The banquet was prepar'd: 
 
 ' What landed raptures I enjoy'd, 
 ' \Vheii she that banquet shar'd! 
 
 ' I told my hopes, my fears, my pains ! 
 
 ' Dwelt on my pow'r, and fame ! 
 ' How ev'ry soul, Bagdad contained, 
 
 ' Dreaded my very name ! 
 
 ' Then, in the humble lover's key, 
 
 * Her pity 1 implor'd ! 
 * Her beauties rapturously described ! 
 
 ' Beauties that i ador'd ! 
 
 * Briefly, the lover's part I play'd, 
 ' And thought I play'd it well ; 
 
 * For, in that part, unrivallM, I 
 
 myself t'excell. 
 
55 
 
 Silent awhile she stood, and wept : 
 ' Her tears I'd fain have driedr; 
 But she, forsooth, with vi'lence push'd 
 M' officious arm aside ! 
 
 With haughty mien, my prayers, and vows, 
 
 ' She treated with contempt ! 
 And ev'ry prudish air assum'd ; 
 
 ( As if from sin exempt I 
 
 Muttering her threats, away she flouncM ! 
 
 ' I smil'd contempt in turn : 
 
 At prudish frowns and menacM ills, 
 
 ' From her, I did but spurn. 
 
 Unless by witch'ry she could work, 
 
 ' From danger 1 was tree : 
 
 What could I feav ? Siiort-sighted fool ! 
 
 c This cuaAin witch was she. 
 
as 
 
 *" Three days elaps'd^ again she came, 
 ' In flowing robes array'd ; 
 
 < With ev'ry captivating grace, 
 ' Her beauties were display 'd. 
 
 * 'Twas ecstasy on her, to look I 
 ' Desire increasing flapi'dj, 
 
 f I listen'd, while her condftct past 
 e With modesty she blam'd. 
 
 f Affected blush her features wore ; 
 
 ' Her tongue aj^pear'd to tremble : 
 ' She hop'd I would forgive, tho' she, 
 
 f Weak woman, might dissemble. 
 
 ' Her husBand had been sickly, long ; 
 
 e Ere midnight he'd .repose : 
 s She dreaded evil tongues, therefore 
 
 f She night and silence chose. 
 
37 
 
 * Favor so great she fear'd to ask> 
 
 ' But, if Fd condescend 
 
 * Her humble home to visit, I 
 
 * Might chance to meet a friend ! 
 
 ' Artless her whole behaviour seem'd ; 
 ' Never was tongue so bland ! 
 
 * My well replenished purse I gave, 
 
 ' And pressM her beauteous hand. 
 
 ' Entranced my senses were, and I 
 
 ' A heavenly Peri* thought her! 
 f The smooth cajol'ry of deceit 
 
 ' Some artful demon taught her. 
 
 ' The long-expect d hour now came; 
 
 e I quick admission found : 
 ' The slave obey'd the mystic sign ; 
 
 ' Stillness reigned all around. 
 
 * ThePeries arc exquisite beauties, that inhabit, the air. 
 
 VOL. II. K 
 
38 
 
 The flowing robe, the rich repast, 
 ' The goblet, fill'd with wine, 
 Assemblages of perfect bliss! 
 ' Such I supposed was mine. 
 
 ' Delights of love were strewM with flow'rs, 
 
 * As if the sense to cloy : 
 ' Except that, now and then, the dame 
 
 4 Seem'd to be somewhat coy. 
 
 ' She pleaded, from connubial rights 
 ' She ne'er before had swerVd : 
 
 ' When darkness and retirement came, 
 She should be less reserved. 
 
 f We sat not long, wishes and hopes 
 ' Required we should withdraw ; 
 
 * When I, unconscious, free from doubt, 
 ' A look of myst'ry saw. 
 
39 
 
 * And soou a strange rude noise was heard, 
 
 ' That thundered at the door ! 
 
 * Terror the dame appeared to seize ! 
 
 ' She wept, her hair she tore ! 
 
 * Her brother ! from afar arrived ! 
 
 ' For so the slave declared. 
 * In this first act of guilty love, 
 
 ' Taken thus unprepar'd I 
 
 '* Distraction ! Must she stand exposM ! 
 
 ' Virtue till then her guide ! 
 * Oh, how she wept, knelt, and implored, 
 
 * Fd condescend to hide. 
 
 ' If Fd do this, all would be well ! 
 
 ' He should not long remain. 
 * But how conceal me ? Where the place ? 
 
 * /Twas that that gave her pain ! 
 
40 
 
 * Dear Madam, you forget the trunks, 
 ' Th' infernal Slave replied, 
 
 ' Sent home to-day for merchandize ; 
 ' They're deep, and amply wide. 
 
 e With holes to let in air enough, 
 
 ' He'll stay an hour at most : 
 ' In, in, my Lord ! Don't stand to think ! 
 
 ' A moment more we're lost. 
 
 ' One gave a haul, t* other a kiss,, 
 
 ' No doubts I entertain'd : 
 * The devil himself could scarce suspect 
 
 ' That all this fear was feign'd ! 
 
 Confus'd, I hurried, lest to hide 
 f There was not time enough : 
 My robes stript off, a vest they gave 
 f Of party-coloured stuff. 
 
41 
 
 * Turban remov'd, a cap they put 
 ' My naked head to bind ; 
 
 * I saw it not, but ears of ass 
 
 ' The slave pin'd on behind ! 
 
 ' A pillow then, to rest my head, 
 Behind they did engraft : 
 
 ' Ridiculous in ev'ry point, 
 
 ' The prophet must have laughM ! 
 
 ' The trunk hut down, the key was turned ; 
 
 ' I heard the hussey tell 
 * The slave, with most malicious smile, 
 
 ' That, so far, all was well. 
 
 ' Oh, yes, retorts the hated hag, 
 ' We'll teach this lord-like Cadi, 
 
 ' Trafficking with the holy law, 
 ' T' insult a virtuous lady I 
 J 
 
' Lock'd in a trunk ! Disgraced ! Thus trickM ! 
 
 ' How could I be so blind ? 
 ' Ten thousand terrors now began 
 
 ' To seize my tortur'd mind. 
 
 The trunks were plac'd in such a way 
 f That all which passed I saw : 
 
 The door flew open, in there came 
 ' Another man of law I 
 
 f With no less smiling graceful art, 
 
 ' The fat Wallee she met : 
 ' With no less hope he simpering came, 
 
 e They kiss'd, and down they sat. 
 
 ' Again each trick, of joy, and fear, 
 ' Before so well achieved, 
 
 ' On him was playM : another trunk 
 ' Another fool receiv'd, 
 
43 
 
 ' And still another soon arrived 
 
 ' The puffing Alfakih. 
 ' Oh, how had I enjovM the joke, 
 
 ' Had I myself been free ! 
 
 ' The parlous Quean ! With this intent 
 ' Three trunks had she procured, 
 
 e How did her slave and she increase 
 ' The torments we endur'd. 
 
 ' This was not all away she went ; 
 
 ' Her husband back she brought : 
 ' Pretending they were come in search 
 
 ' Of rats, that might be caught. 
 
 " A hateful race I they swarm the house," 
 
 ' She said, and look'd around : 
 " She'd have their skins to make her gloves, 
 
 " Vile vermin ! were they found. 
 
44 . 
 
 ** Cunning, selfish, voracious, they 
 " Would gnaw oak beams, to sap 
 
 " The well-built house; and, ere it fell, 
 " The ruin would escape. 
 
 " Let them beware ! well baited traps 
 " Have often rats ensnarM ! 
 
 " And yet, tho' vile, they cannot be 
 " To wicked men compared. 
 
 tf Could you suppose, my dear Banco, 
 ' (That was her husband's name) 
 
 <f Wretches so base and sinful liv'd 
 " As those, who sought my shame ? 
 
 " That Alfakih, to whom you lent, 
 " With friendly heart, your gold ! 
 
 " That despicable scornM Wallee, 
 " Fat, impotent, and old ! 
 
45 
 
 " And, most, that villain Cadi ! he ! 
 
 " Plac'd high, for one sole end ; 
 " To be to all the poor, oppressed, 
 ts Protector, guide, and friend. 
 
 <e Shall wretch so wicked, as he prov'd, 
 
 " The seat of justice fill ? 
 " Shall he again the pow'r possess 
 
 " Innocent blood to spill ? 
 
 <c Oh, no, my husband ! Trust to me, 
 " That pow'r he holds no more ! 
 
 < e They shall be punish'd, all, till you 
 " Their sufferings shall deplore. 
 
 (i Think it not strange, but each now dreads 
 " What he must undergo ! 
 Nor ask of me what thing Pve done 
 <f To-morrow you shall know. 
 
46 
 
 *' Perchance, retir'd to some small place, 
 " Well lock'd and barr'd, no doubt, 
 
 " Not one would there remain, could they 
 " Freely and safe come out. 
 
 ""' Men so in love can scarcely rest, 
 " I shall be all their theme ! 
 
 <" Of me they'll think, and, if they doze, 
 " Of me they'll surely dream !" ' 
 
 * Her husband heard these bitter taunts, 
 ' It seemed, with great surprise ; 
 
 ' But whether he knew what they meant 
 * No mortal could surmise. 
 
 ' In wild conjecture, doubt, and dread, 
 ( Oh, what a night I pass'd ! 
 
 ' The hateful day too quickly came : 
 ' r l hat day might prove my last. 
 
47 
 
 f At length, three sturdy slaves arrived - r 
 ' The trunks were raised, with care, 
 
 ' And on their backs away were borne, 
 ' Alas, we knew not where. , 
 
 ' Too soon we knew ! down went each load, 
 
 ' 'Mid a surrounding crowd ; 
 ' While an authoritative voice 
 
 ' Silence proclaimed, aloud. 
 
 Yes, 'twas the sacred chamber, where, 
 ' Enthroned, the Caliph sits ; 
 And, on th' accus'd, before him brought, 
 ' Gives sentence, or acquits. 
 
 ' The lady bidden was to speak : 
 * To speak she soon began : 
 
 * Too soon she detailed all we did, 
 f Her virtue to trepan. 
 
48 
 
 f( Impossible \" the Caliph cried, 
 ' Her story having hear'd ; 
 
 <e Am I not held in greater awe ? 
 " My name is more rever'd. 
 
 " Woman, beware! Produce your proof! 
 
 " What witness have you here ?" 
 f Most mighty Sultan, I have three ?' 
 
 f How ! Three ? Let them appear." 
 
 She callM her slaves, she gave the keys, 
 ' The trunks were all unlocked ! 
 Oh, dreadful moment ! out I crawl'd ! 
 e My knees together knock'd ! 
 
 f Assisted by a slave came forth 
 
 ' The puffing Alfakih -, 
 ' Two others, arm by arm, dragged out 
 
 ' Th' unwieldy fat WaJlee. 
 
49 
 
 ' Nor could the sacred presence, now, 
 ' The sudden laugh restrain ! 
 
 * Nor could the Caliph, tho* enrag'd, 
 ' To laugh, himself, refrain ! 
 
 ' Sure, three such figures, so burlesque, 
 f And suffering such disgrace, 
 
 * Were never seen by man before, 
 ' At any time or place ! 
 
 Confiscated was all our wealth ; 
 
 e Twas to the lady given : 
 
 With black opprobrium, scoffs, and stripe*, 
 
 ' From Bagdad we were driven. 
 
 Severe our doom ! culprits so vile 
 f Forth from the realm were spurn'd ! 
 Banishment first, and, oh, hard fate ! 
 f Impal'd, if we returned. 
 VOL. n. r 
 
50 
 
 e I've told my tale ; too well it proves 
 
 ( That man, alas, is man : 
 ( 'Tis your turn, brother ; come, begin : 
 
 Surpass it, if you can/ 
 
 THE POET'S TALE. 
 
 With small preparation, Cosrou thus began : 
 
 f Fve little, dear brothers, to tell ; 
 ' Th' events, which I find are but common to man, 
 ( Have happen'd to me, on that ordinary plan 
 
 * Which pleases dame Nature so well. 
 
 
 ' Pre been poor, I've been rich, I've been humble 
 and proud ; 
 
 f When fortune was smiling, I smil'd ; 
 ' When poverty wrung me, I went with the crowd ; 
 f Like others, constrained, I to Destiny bow'd : 
 
 ' To Destiny, man's but a child. 
 
51 
 
 *I too have seen Sultans, and Caliphs, and Courts, 
 
 ' And many things wisdom disdains ; 
 With foolish and wise, have remark 'd Fortune's sports 
 ' At many throng'd Marts, to which folly resorts, 
 
 ' Where vanity constantly reigns. 
 
 ' Perhaps, as a poet, my dreams have been wild ; 
 
 f But dreaming is harmless, at least; 
 f And often my dreams have my sorrows beguil'd ; 
 
 ' Ey them has my heart been to life reconciled ; 
 
 
 
 ' For dreams are the poor poet's feast. 
 
 f And what are wealth, titles, globes, sceptres, and 
 crowns, 
 
 ' Tho* gilded and tempting they seem ; 
 ' The trifles we call fortune's smiles, or her frowns, 
 ' That vast mass of baubles, which wisdom confounds, 
 
 ' What are they, alas, but a dream ? 
 
 ' Like most silly mortals, Pve thought myself wise ; 
 
 ' How much so no language can say : 
 ' The follies of others I could but despise; 
 ' My own still appeared in so strange a disguise, 
 
 ' I call'd them but wisdom at play. 
 
52 
 
 * When first I left home, you must notice, no doubt, 
 ' My talents I thought were divine : 
 
 f The rose might have thorns, but my courage was 
 
 stout ; 
 
 ( I rather supposed only flowers could sprout ; 
 ' I'd cull them, and make them all mine. 
 
 e Like others, perhaps, I have met with my share 
 
 ' Of the pains and the pleasures of life : 
 ' The pleasures are many ; the pains men might bear, 
 ' If they made them nor greater nor less than they are, 
 ' By wretched impatience and strife. 
 
 * How blest is the man, who his passions can curb ; 
 
 f Acquainted with each, and its source : 
 ' But one master passion his life will disturb; 
 
 * Like torrent that rages, or tyrant superb, 
 ' Destruction attends on its course. 
 
 * These passions are more or less dangerous I grant, 
 ' Some instigate little to crime : 
 
 4 For a strange kind of glory I felt myself pant, 
 
 * A passion that would ev'ry other supplant, 
 ' And that was a mad love of rhvrne. 
 
53 
 
 c To princess or milk-maid, to cobbler or king, 
 
 ( My pleasant conceits Pd rehearse : 
 c I thought it enchantment, when bards deign'd to sing ; 
 ' The sweets of applause, or of satire the sting, 
 
 f How great in the magic of verse ! 
 
 ' How dulcet the sounds, which I struck from my lyre t 
 
 * How richly rewarded in praise : 
 
 < But praise, tho' the soul it might nobly inspire, 
 ' Could ill quench the cravings of hungry desire ! 
 ' J Twas starving to feed upon bays. 
 
 * Sweet innocent folly ! But little thou'lt ask ! 
 
 ' Thy wants are but few, arid soon fed ! 
 ' The poet for poverty finds the best mask, 
 4 Enraptur'd, oh, let him accomplish his task, 
 
 ' He'll go hungry yet happy to bed ! 
 
 ' He'll dine on a simile, sup on a trope ; 
 
 ' Delicious and frequent the feast : 
 ' Mankind all voraciously feed upon hope, 
 ' But poets can best with stern poverty cope, 
 
 * They feel her assaults far the least. 
 
 r 3 
 
54 
 
 ' Yet spirit, tho* pure, is with matter combined ; 
 
 e The one doth the other encumber : 
 ' Tho' poets ask little, that little, we find, 
 
 * They must have, or the body, that's married to mind, 
 
 ' Will throw mind itself in a slumber. 
 
 * Time and chance bring about some events that are 
 
 strange, 
 ' And such as no mortals foresee ; 
 
 * At ceras are prone things to newly arrange, 
 
 * The whole face of nature they suddenly change, 
 ' And now they did something for me. 
 
 * For surely 'twas chance made me sing of the fame 
 
 * Of a mortal,, who shun'd all parade : 
 ( By chance it must certainly be that his name, 
 ' To my ear, as a lover of poetry came, 
 
 ' Who poets delighted to aid. 
 
 ( An Iman this mortal, and one of the few 
 
 f Who practise the precepts they preach : 
 f That poets are lovers of virtue he knew, 
 ' And thence the conclusion most easily drew 
 e That good is the doctrine they teach. 
 
55 
 
 r His morals severe, yet his manners were mild, 
 
 ' Devoid of refractory passion : 
 ' He men, as it were, of their vices beguil'd ; 
 
 * Tho' boldly he spoke yet so sweetly he smil'd 
 
 ' That he was just then in high fashion. 
 
 ' Being noticM by him, I soon came to the ear 
 
 ' Of the beautiful fav'rite Sultana: 
 ' The smiles that Ghulnaza bestow'd, ah, how dear 1 
 ' Her sight would the spirit of poetry cheer, 
 
 ( And refresh like the fig of Banana. 
 
 ' To Ghulnaza my song was so grateful that I 
 
 ' Was oft to the banquet invited : 
 ' When I made request she would sweetly comply, 
 ' Her kind charming humor could seldom deny 
 
 ' The poet in whom she delighted. 
 
 ' 'Twas then that my verse brought both profit and 
 
 praise ! 
 
 ' How pleasant the days that I pass'd ! 
 ' The poet less favor'd with envy would gaze ! 
 
 * But, ah, this bright noon, while resplendent its rays, 
 
 ' With menacing clouds was o'ercast. 
 
 
56 
 
 * Too beauteous Cadiga ! How fatal thy charm* ! 
 
 ( Sweet daughter of Paradise, when 
 ' Shall I lose the remembrance that oft, in thy arms, 
 ' Inebriate with pleasure, and free from alarms, 
 
 ' I knew joys I shall ne'er know again ! 
 
 ' Oh, woman, how varied, how strange are thy wiles ! 
 
 ' In thee what contraries unite ! 
 ' The sting of the serpent is seen in thy smiles ; 
 ' Yet he most adores thee, who most thee reviles ; 
 
 ' 'Tis thine to torment and delight ! 
 
 * In the train of the fav'rite Sultana was she, 
 
 ' Whose witch'ry inveigled my heart ! 
 ' Ah, why was it, Fate *, thy eternal decree 
 ' That first I should love, and that afterward she 
 
 ( From loyalty so should depart ? 
 
 f I've turnM my face east, and Pve turn'd my face west, 
 f Pve travelled where ail the winds blow ; 
 
 * Since woman in all parts by man is caress'd, 
 
 ' Men and books Pve consulted, and studied my best, 
 ' The heart of a woman to know : 
 
 * The Mahometans are all fatalisti. 
 
57 
 
 * But never, Cadiga, inconstant as fair, 
 
 ' Could man, book, or study divine 
 ' Why thou tookMst such delight my fond heart in 
 
 ensnare, 
 ' Then greater didst take but to plunge in despair 
 
 ' That heart so devotedly thine ! 
 
 4 A merchant, from Cairo, rich, handsome, and young, 
 
 ' Who came his gold stuffs to produce, 
 ' From Prince of Circassia he said he was sprung, 
 
 * His manners deceiving, and still more his tongue 
 
 ' He was form/d the frail fair to seduce. 
 
 ' What wonder, Cadiga, entranced he remain/d, 
 ' When first thy bright eyes he beheld ! 
 
 * Why were they unveil'd ! Alas, why ! -'twas or- 
 
 dain'd I 
 
 Fatal moment ! the demon of vanity reign'd 
 * His impulse could not be repelPd. 
 
 ' My fond foolish heart never harbour'd surmise, 
 
 ' Cadiga, that thou couldst betray ! 
 ' I knew not the danger in flatt'ry that lies : 
 
 * How could I forget that the good, and the wise-, 
 
 ' It too often inveigles astray ? 
 
58 
 
 c This rich handsome merchant, by flatt'ry, soon stole 
 ' The heart which I thought so secure : 
 
 * 'Twas madness ! r f was passion, that spurn'd at con- 
 
 troul ! 
 
 * Resign my Cadiga ! The pearl of my soul ! 
 
 ' Oh, 'twas misery 1 might not endure. 
 
 * Determined was I ev'ry means to pursue 
 
 ' Revenge on my rival to take ; 
 
 * But this was foreseen, from my vengeance they flew; 
 
 * To Cairo, by stealth and quick flight, they withdrew: 
 
 ' Could Cadiga Cosrou thus forsake ! 
 
 f I wander'd in search, but I wanderM in vain ; 
 ' The place of their refuge unknown : 
 
 * Distracted, I travers'd hill, desert, and plain, 
 
 * Nor tidings of them or their fate could obtain, 
 ' Till many months after they 'ad flown. 
 
 4 And what were these tidings, at last, when I heard ! 
 ' What did they, but add to despair ! 
 
 * The lovers no longer my enmity fear'd ! 
 
 * Not one ray of hope amid darkness appeav'd, 
 e That might aid me misfortune to bear. 
 
59 
 
 ' When evil begins 'tis by evil pursu'd ; 
 
 ' Its current what force can repel ? 
 Cadiga again gave to jealousy food ; 
 
 * Vindictive, his hands the curs'd merchant imbrued 
 
 * In the blood he first taught to rebel. 
 
 Ah, why didst thou strike, cruel angel*, ah, why ? 
 
 ' Altho' in revenge of my wrongs : 
 ' I askM not revenge : could I wish her to die ? 
 ' No never ! To lover, so faithful as I, 
 
 ' Only pardon, sweet pardon, belongs. 
 
 ' One great retribution my spirit received : 
 
 The merchant by treachV.y repaid ! 
 ' Deception was practised on him who deceived : 
 
 * He took away life and of life was bereavM : 
 ' He sunk in the grave he had made ! 
 
 The angel of death seems to be rather a real than a 
 figurative being, among the Eastern people. 
 
60 
 
 f I'm weary of Sultans, and Caliphs, and Courts ; 
 
 e Their follies and vice I disdain ; 
 ' For ever I fly from their pleasures and sports ; 
 * Cadiga's no more ! her shade nightly exhorts 
 
 ' Me to mourn on my dear native plain* 
 
 ' Of mortals, oh, Fate, it is thine to dispose j 
 
 ' My dear native plain gives not rest : 
 e To the pale changeful Moon I my sorrows disclose, 
 e And, like the lorn nightingale, weep to the rose, 
 ' Whose thorn is left deep in my breast.' 
 
 The good old Arab, having heard them all, 
 A plaintive tear wip'd down his cheek, and sighM : 
 <e 'Tis well, my sons," said he ; " your tales recall 
 ff Passions to which the heart of man's allied. 
 
 " Did men the rule I gave remember well, 
 
 " Did all serve others, while they serve themselves, 
 
 " You'd not have had these varied tales to tell 
 
 ff Of rude misfortune's coast, its shoals, and shelves. 
 
61 
 
 " The man this golden rule who never breaks, 
 " So much his conduct innate worth bespeaks, 
 " Wins ev'ry heart, and all and ev'ry wrong, 
 t( On him inflicted, must to all belong." 
 
 
 VOL. IT. 
 
TASTE. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
TASTE. 
 
 TALE XII. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY ODI. 
 
 GODDESS of Nonsense ! Sweet bewitching creature ! 
 
 Nay, patience ! Hear me ! 
 
 Wherefore shouldst thou pretend to pish and fret ? 
 Is not thy image seen in ev'ry feature 
 Of those dear brats, which, giggling, we beget? 
 I beg thee, heartily, oh, come and cheer me ! 
 
 Infuse thy fire ! 
 
 My soul inspire ! 
 
 Canst thou say nay ? Am I not all thy own ? 
 A mighty pillar ! propping thy mighty throne ! 
 Come to my aid, great Goddess, just at present, 
 And let us laugh ; we then shall pass for pleasant ! 
 
66 
 
 Jump, fly, or stride! Come, with convulsive haste ! 
 Ohj come, dear Deity, and sing of taste ! 
 
 Old-Street ! Mighty Moor-Fields ! Precincts divine ! 
 Bedlam, attend ! Let all your Monarchs hear ! 
 
 Both far and near ! 
 
 Madness and Folly come ! with me combine ! 
 Raving and Vaporing come, oh, come, in haste ! 
 Come like yourselves ! I've now to $ing of taste ! 
 
 Cap'ring about, 
 In baubles lunatic trick't out, 
 Hear! Hear! 
 Appear ! 
 
 In wild fantastic order plac'd, 
 Those baubles string at nose, or ear; 
 Buckle them round the neck, or waist ; 
 At elbow, wrist, or ancle, 
 Let them dangle, 
 Fingle fangle ! 
 
 Jump, and make them jingle ! 
 Reply, should men ask what they mean, 
 
67 
 
 Pshaw ! Nonsense ! What a question ! Pish ! 
 Or any other gibberish : 
 Come, and pell-mell we'll mingle, 
 Rant, and sing ; 
 
 "While mighty hubbub forms a frantic ring ! 
 
 Should good-sense dare be seen, 
 Clamor and cant shall soon confound her; 
 The goddess Nonsense we'll invoke ; 
 With strange contortions tumbling round her, 
 To her our Pythian hymns we'll sing, 
 
 And make the welkin with a grand Dutch concert ring. 
 To her, with madness most profuse, 
 
 And anticks strange, we'll sacrifice a goose ; 
 
 While she shall giggle, kick, and snuff the grateful 
 smoke ! 
 
 Goddess of Nonsense, hear ! Again, on thee I call ! 
 
 Oh for a worthy trope ! 
 
 Hail, Thomas Hope ! 
 
 Hail, Master Betty ! 
 
 Delightful Mudie, hail! 
 
68 
 
 Modest as pretty ! 
 Hail all ! 
 All hail ! 
 
 Ye are three great exemplars of my tale ! 
 Oh, with what gusto must you hear it read, 
 And lay it on your pillow, when you go to bed I 
 Therefore, again, all hail I 
 
 Seated on Guinea-pig, 
 Miss Mudie whips and spurs ! 
 With gallant strides, 
 Away she rides, 
 Despising snarling curs ! ^ 
 " Faith, she's an actress big ! 
 " By Jasus, she's all that !" bashful, as wise, 
 
 Her father cries; 
 ". Altho' she's but a little child, 
 ft A great big prodigy she must be styPd I" 
 
 Roscius bestrides a mastiff, when he rants 
 Saddle white Surrey for the field !" 
 Lo! He alights! 
 
69 
 
 With base Glenalvon fights 
 " Yield! Coward, yield I'" 
 Poison he drinks 
 He trembles, totters, sinks, 
 He reels, he falls, he pants 
 '< Fathers have flinty hearts I 
 Paris, loose your hold ! Oh .'They crack they 
 
 break," 
 Then, suddenly, behold him stop, 
 
 To play at top, 
 Eat sugar-plums and tarts, 
 Or currant jelly with plum cake ; 
 
 Or troll his hoop, 
 
 And, having done his race, 
 
 Squirt dirty water in his tutor's face. 
 
 Oh, Thomas Hope ! 
 J Tis thou who mayst expect to please, 
 
 For thou art rich, 
 
 And therefore canst the world bewitch : 
 'Tis thou alone mayst dare to cope 
 With rivals such as these ! 
 
70 
 
 To Francis Annesley, Esquire, 
 
 M. P. 
 
 With all thy native fire 
 How charmingly didst thou indite 
 A learned letter, showing thou cuuldst write ! 
 Artists ! Pshaw ! What are they, compared to thee ? 
 Miss Mudie's modesty can't equal thine ! 
 
 In technic architectural phrase 
 Incomprehensible, therefore divine, 
 Upon thyself bestowing all due praise, 
 Thou telPst thy friend, and tellest him in print, 
 That, if thou art not great, beyond compare *, 
 Greater than ail the host of master-builders 
 For thou ! Yes, thou hadst time enough ! 
 And eke the guilders ! 
 The ducats ! the pistoles ! 
 So now thou dost not only give designs, 
 Ay, such as may not meet rebuff, 
 
 * " I dare venture to assert, I have done more to obtain [a 
 knowledge of architecture] than almost any other person of my 
 own age living." 
 
 Observations, &c. in a Letter to Francis Anneilcy, Esq. M. P* 
 by Thomas Hope, /. 7. 
 
71 
 
 But, when a baby, thou couldst draw straight lines* ! 
 Counting thy travels, and thy riches, and thy zeal, 
 Shall paltry jobbers once pretend with thee to feel 
 
 The beautiful ? Or the sublime ? 
 
 With thee ! who hadst both money, means, and time ? 
 I say, thou tell'st thy friend, in print, 
 These things considered, all, 
 And many many more, 
 Which thou desirest him to ponder o'er 
 
 ' And duly weigh, 
 If thou hast not a right to call 
 Such fellows o'er the coals, 
 Why then the devil's in't ! 
 Thou and fine taste can have no more to say f ! 
 
 * " From an infant, architecture always was my favorite amuse- 
 ment. I scarce [scarcely] was able to hold a pencil when I already 
 began dealing [to deal] in those strait lines v.hich seem so little 
 attractive to the greatest number even of good draftsmen of a 
 more advanced age. Observations , &c. p. 7. 
 
 f " This preamble, my dear Sir, may savour strongly of vanity ; 
 but, without it, the remarks which are to follow would sa- 
 vour still stronger of presumption. , ] I profess considering [to 
 
72 
 
 Great have thy labors and thy travels been ! 
 'Tis wonderful what thou hast seen I 
 Whatever is to thee is known . 
 As thou dost roundly own. 
 The consequence is plain : 
 Great is thy knowledge ! 
 And greater still thy taste t 
 
 For, thou dost roundly prove, taste must be bought ; 
 It never can be caught 
 
 consider] myself [as] entitled to criticize the designs of an archi- 
 tect by profession, and I roundly otvn I do, I can only expect credit, 
 for the justness of my censure, with those who will be apt to 
 weigh with more attention the pretensions of the censurer than 
 the intrinsic value of the criticism, by proving that, respecting the 
 art of which I thus dare to think myself a judge, I not only pos- 
 sessed sources of information, superior to those perhaps enjoyed 
 by any of its professional followers, but also a second requisite, with- 
 out which the first would have been of little avail : a desire of 
 knowledge, superior perhaps to what any of these ever evinced." 
 Observations, &c. p. 10. 
 
 Bravo ! bravissimo ! Thomas Hope ! How do my Goddess and 
 I admire thee ! Palladio, Scamozzi, Inigo Jones, Sir Christopher 
 Wren, Perrault, Desgodetz, Leroi, &c. &c. &c. hide your dimi- 
 nished heads ! 
 
73 
 
 * 
 
 By him who is not rich enough to ride, post haste, 
 
 Thro' Egypt, Africa, Greece, PePponesus, 
 
 To to really I'm frightened when I see how far* ! 
 
 I am no Crcesus ! 
 I have no flying car ! 
 But, thou dost clearly show, 
 It must be so ; 
 
 * " Egyptian architecture I went to investigate on the banks 
 of the Nile ; Grecian on the shores of Ionia, Sicily, Attica, and 
 the Peloponesus. Four different times I visited Italy, to render 
 familiar to me all the shades of the infinitely varied styles of 
 building, peculiar to that interesting country, from the most rude 
 attempts of the Etruscans, to the last degradsd ones of the Lom- 
 bards. Moorish edifices I examined on the coast of Africa, and 
 among the ruins of Grenada, of Seville, and of Cordova. '1 he 
 principle of the Tartar and Persian constructions I studied in 
 Turkey, and in Syria. Finally, the youngest branch of the oldest 
 of arts, that erroneously called Gothic, I investigated the most ap- 
 proved specimens of throughout England, and most of the pro- 
 vinces of France, Germany, Spain, and Portugal I aimed, at 
 a higher reward, for my labors, than any pecuniary recommence cquld 
 afford; and this J obtained, Observations, &c. f< 7. 9. { 
 
 VOL. II. H 
 
74 
 
 And therefore them, alone, 
 jiowst how to build a college ! 
 
 Yes, these things have emboldenM thee to fly at 
 
 President Wyat. 
 
 Yes, to thy own conviction, thou dost prove 
 Thou art, oh, most surprisingly above 
 
 Such petty fellows ! 
 Aloud, to listeners, thou dost cry, 
 Till thou dost half exhaust thy puffing bellows, 
 With most triumphant iteration, " I ! II II 
 
 * My means were limited, my space connVd, 
 " When I an old house took to decorate, 
 " The instant I came home again * ; 
 
 * " Soon as my roving life ceased, I determined to add prac- 
 tice to theory. After having employed the chief portion of my ' 
 rambles abroad in learning to judge the architectural productions- 
 of others, I began, the instant I sat down at home, to submit pro- 
 ductions of my own to their judgment, and their censure. My 
 fcieans were limited, my space confined, yet I am willing to fatter 
 
75 
 
 < And did it with a classic taste, 
 " So dignified, and yet so chaste, 
 " That I must own I sought the like in vain, 
 
 " Among my neighbours ! 
 " I have pursu'd my labors ; 
 ff With elegance and unity, I have designed 
 " Much more than language can relate. 
 
 " But these were trifling specimens, and few : 
 " Injustice to myself, I beg to add, 
 
 " For 'tis my due, 
 
 " So great my zeal, 
 " If more extensive means I had, 
 " And better opportunity, I feel, 
 
 myself that the world has given me credit, in the mode of new 
 [newly] decorating an old house, for an elegance and unity of 'design, 
 and a classic taste, which I confess to have myself in vain sought 
 in the habitations of my neighbours ; and I must, in justice to 
 myself, beg to add, had I more extensive means and a better op- 
 portunity, / feel myself capable of designs far beyond the few and 
 trifling sptc-imens I have hitherto been, die to exhibit" 
 
 Observations , &c. f. 10. 
 
76 
 
 te In beauty of design, Pm able 
 ff To build a palace'' very like a stable ! 
 Or, difl it stand but near some key, 
 A warehouse for ship loads of tea 1 
 
 Of this, in Dutches* Street, 
 Whoever looks beholds a proof complete ! 
 
 <f Yes ! Vanity apart, / roundly own, 
 I've gatherM information from the sources 
 (f Yet this perhaps might not avail, 
 " Tis possible I still might fail, 
 
 ee If strong Desire 
 " Did not my bosom fire! 
 " But that it does is too well known. 
 <c As for your artists, what are they ? 
 " What do they work for ? Is't not pay ? 
 " .1 arn a gentleman, and nothing worse : 
 f( Ergo, Fm their superior of course. 
 
 " .I'll tell the world a secret : no proficient 
 ee Gan be, like me, omniscient, 
 
77 
 
 f * Or can the realms of art explore, 
 " Who, seeing much, has not thought more : 
 " I pray take that for granted *. 
 " Now, with respect to sight 
 " Comparisons are idle 
 
 " I shall forbear 
 
 <e They're things in which I do not much delight 
 " But, with respect to thoughts, I've some to spare, 
 " And some which I'm convinced are true, 
 " Altho' most certainly they're new : 
 
 * " Architecture, as it is one of the noblest, is likewise one of 
 the most arduous, and difficult, among the fine arts. No man 
 can be entitled to the appellation of a proficient, in its higher 
 branches, who has not seen much, and thought more. With re- 
 gard to the first of these conditions, after what has been prefaced, 
 I shall forbear dwelling [to dwell] any longer on idle comparisons. 
 With respect to the latter, I think I may venture to furnish mat- 
 ter for a few, by adverting to the short moments of leisure and 
 recollection, which the hurry and bustle of his chiefly mechanical 
 avocations leave the architect of this country, after he has got 
 into repute and employ, to complete his early and often imperfect 
 tudies, by subsequent inquiry and reflection." 
 
 Observations^ &f. f. 11. 
 
 a 3 
 
78- 
 
 <{ Mechanic avocation 
 " Will put a man in such a bustle, 
 " 'T\s quite impossible to bridle 
 " Jumbled ideas ; incomplete ; 
 ee Thoughts that each other justle ; 
 ft Therefore, in the English nation, 
 ff If once an architect hold high repute, 
 f( So great his practice, 
 " The simple fact is, 
 " His faculties are all struck mute. 
 " Experience is to him an arrant cheat, 
 
 " And quite confuses ev'ry rule 
 " Which he had learned, by going long to school. 
 " In short, experience is to him a curse 
 " I do not know a wqrse ! 
 
 " Yes. Sir, from hurry-scurry free, 
 * He should sit still, and think, like me ! 
 ff 1 give you leave to laugh at all you've read, 
 f( If this be not as clear as any thing I've said. 
 
 ... ' 
 
 ef .Disint'rested my object, liberal mv pursuit, 
 Cf For me the tree of knowledge bears its fruit : 
 
79 
 
 ee These things to add, good Sir, I make my pride; 
 " For these are truths, that cannot be denied*." 
 
 Oh, Thomas ! I pant after thee in vain ! 
 Thy thoughts so lofty, so sublime thy strain, 
 Thou soar'st so far beyond the common flight, 
 To me thou'rt lost in darkness ! all is night ! 
 
 * " So much for the means indispensable to acquire the science ; 
 and if the most unequivocal signs of love for that science be any 
 pledge for having availed oneself of those means with the greatest 
 zeal and assiduity, I may presume to challenge the most esteemed, 
 among those that call themselves masters of the art, to produce 
 proofs equal to mine. I shall not say I have expended sums 
 greater than any professed architect might have been able to ex- 
 pend, in performing journeys, ordering designs, acquiring models, 
 but I shall maintain I have made sacrifices greater than any such 
 might have been willing to make, &c. &c. &c. ; risks, toils, priva- 
 tions, enjoyments, and comforts foregone, &c. These privations 
 then, these risks, are the price at which I have chiefly purchased 
 the right I assume, of contending with such as make the object 
 of my disinterested, and I pride myself in adding liberal, pursuit, 
 that only of mechanical labor and pecuniary profit." 
 
 Observations, t5V. /. 12. 
 
 Oh, Katterfelto, how do I honor thee! 
 
80 
 
 common notions totally exempt, 
 To turn thee into English I no more attempt. 
 Acknowledging my want of stretch, and scope, 
 I gaze to find thee in the clouds, oh, Thomas Hope ! 
 
 Would thou wert here, malign, 
 Good humor'd, laughter loving Yorick ! 
 For thou alone couldst comment on the Doric : 
 Not that of Roman birth, and spurious ; 
 To taste so horridly injurious ; 
 
 Nor that of Wyat, modern dunce ; 
 But that of Thomas Hope, and Greece, which rose, at 
 once, 
 
 In full perfection ! 
 Of which each limb, or section, 
 Transports the soul, 
 And forms a whole, 
 
 Solid, simple, that vibrates on the sense * 
 More rapid, infinitely, more intense, 
 
 * " If we advert to that species of beauty, which residing in 
 mere lines solely affects the eye, the real Doric, through the sim- 
 
81 
 
 Than is a body in a deep decline, 
 
 Where bones, joints, tendons, arteries, and veins, 
 
 Muscles, and cartilages, all take pains, 
 
 As if it gave them joy, 
 At evVy inch smooth surface to destroy. 
 
 Oh, Thomas Hope ! Oh, Goddess Nonsense ! Both ! 
 T' invoke you separate I should be loth : 
 Miss Mudie ! Master Betty 1 One and all ! 
 Ye four great pillars of the public hall 
 
 plicity and yet contrast of its forms, produces on the outward 
 sense a vibration infinitely more rapid, more general, more intense, 
 and leaves on the inward sense an impression infinitely more forci- 
 ble, more distinct, and thus more lasting, than any its feeble rival 
 can operate. It displays in its fewer parts a breadth, a fullness, 
 of which, spite of all its infinitely greater repetition of insignifi- 
 cant mouldings, its meagre emaciated namesake is every where 
 alike destitute. It is a body in its youth and vigour, full of sap 
 and substance, with limbs marked by rare but striking divisions : 
 the oth'jr, on the contrary, is a body in a deep decline, 'where bonas, 
 joints, tendons, cartilages and muscles, arteries and veins, destroy at 
 every inch the smoothness of the surface"' Observations, &c. p. 18. 
 
82 
 
 Of Taste, 
 In eighteen hundred four, and five, 
 
 How vast 
 
 The blessings we derive 
 From little beings of such grandeur ! 
 While quill of goose I nobly wield, 
 Lo, I stand forth in your defence 
 
 And brave the fielj, 
 Should Envy dare distill her slander, 
 
 Frothy and pert, 
 If she should sneeringly assert 
 There's not among you all one grain of common seri: 
 No ! 'Tis uncommon ! Therefore I adore ye ! 
 Yes, of the great occasion glad, 
 I join the town, divinely mad, 
 In wild ecstatic frenzy bow before ye. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Imperfect are my lays ; 
 To add to this just praise 
 One item I forgot : 
 
83 
 
 How much must Englishmen lament 
 
 That thy designs, 
 Which thou gratuitously sent, 
 Designs that were projected 
 To add another wing to the Museum, 
 
 In which straight lines 
 Were all so learnedly dissected 
 How much, I say, must we repent, 
 That plans like these, in peevish discontent, 
 
 Were all rejected ! 
 Rejected too by men, God wot, 
 Who knew not how to build a cot ! 
 They might thy labors gratis have enjoy'd ! 
 While base mechanics, who are now employed, 
 Never yet sent gratuitous design ! 
 Oh, no ! They will not draw a single line, 
 
 Unless men fee 'em. 
 
 'Twas strange that, tho' they lack'd not public spirit, 
 They should be blind to thy transcendent merit ! 
 But, these committee-men to teach, 
 While passion dignified thy face, 
 
84 
 
 Thou didst, without delay, 
 
 Rise in thy place, 
 
 Pocket thy papers, make a flaming speech, 
 And proudly walk, or stalk, away! 
 
 THE TALE. 
 
 A Gentleman, who lov'd his spouse, 
 
 His children, friend, and country house, 
 
 One who thought nature void of art, 
 
 Of life the sweet and better part ; 
 
 Early each morn well pleas'd to rove, 
 
 Enraptured by the vocal grove ; 
 
 The plough-boy's song, the milk-maid's tale, 
 
 Mean'dring stream and flow'ry dale, 
 
 The glorious day, or starry night, 
 
 All simple things could him delight ; 
 
 Unapt far consequence to draw, 
 
 Simplicity was all he saw ; 
 
 One whom ambition ne'er could fire 
 
 Beyond the bounds of Country 'Squire ; 
 
85 
 
 Who into few expences run, 
 Except his hunter, dog, and gun, 
 And that good hospitable cheer, 
 Which smokM each season of the year, 
 Upon his well-replenishM board, 
 Expences he could well afford : 
 I say, this good kind honest soul, 
 A spice of petticoat control 
 Allowed his better half, and she 
 London determinM was to see. 
 
 The journey to put off was wrong, 
 For it had been delayM too long ; 
 Therefore she must be gone post haste : 
 No more she'd lingering wait, hum-drum, 
 For people said this was become, 
 Decidedly, the age of taste. 
 
 " You know, my dear, I've observation : 
 " You likewise know, kind invitation 
 " Has twice been urgently repeated ; 
 " Assuring us we should be treated 
 
 VOL. II. I 
 
86 
 
 * s With sights, such as have ne'er been seen ! 
 *' Beyond what either king or queen, 
 " With rev'rence be it spoke, can show ; 
 " We therefore must resolve to go." 
 
 Resistance here was far from stout. 
 
 Like ass between two truss of hay, 
 
 The 'Squire whether to go or stay, 
 
 Had long remained in Jazy doubt ; 
 
 But Madam's peremptory suit 
 
 Now put an end to this dispute. 
 
 Beside, good simple soul, he thought, 
 
 If he to London once were brought, 
 
 That there would end his cares, and labors : 
 
 For he supposed he there should come 
 
 To that said hospitable home 
 
 With which he treated friends, and neighbours. 
 
 To town they came, and, when arrived, 
 The 'Squire believ'd they should be hiv'd 
 As snug as bees, in frost or snow : 
 Alas, good man, he did not know 
 
87 
 
 Much more of manners than of taste! 
 To gate of friend he drives, in haste, 
 Knocks loud, demands admittance there 
 
 " Admittance:" 
 
 ' Yes; why, how you stare 1 / 
 te My roaster's not at home " 
 
 What then ?' 
 V I doubt" 
 
 < Doabt what ?> 
 
 " He'll not again 
 %< Be home till Jate ; he dines abroad." 
 
 ' Dine out, and knew we came to-day I 
 ( This kind of friendship, I must say, 
 f Is what I cannot much applaud : 
 i2 
 
88 
 
 * 'Tis what did never yet befall 
 
 * The friend, who came to Melton Hall !' 
 
 Beginning disagreements past, 
 At some hotel they lodge, at last : 
 The morrow comes, the friend arrives, 
 Apology complaint deprives 
 Of half its povv'r " He had no place ! 
 fe One want of town was want of space. 
 " His will was good, no doubt of that, 
 " But room he had not for a cat." 
 
 f Your house seems large ?' 
 
 " Fit for a prince ; 
 
 " But filPd ! Come, and your eyes convince ! 
 " You'll bless yourselves, when you shall see 
 te All that belongs to taste and me ! 
 
 ft I'd instantly insist on showing 
 
 ff You all the wonders Pve been doing,, 
 
89 
 
 " But th' antique bed, I last bespoke, 
 <e Is not quite finished : t' would provoke 
 <( A saint, the slowness of such work. 
 
 " Fve been with Arab, Tartar, Turk, 
 
 " Have traveird ! Oh, I know not where ! 
 
 (< Have sacrificed ease, health, and gold ; 
 
 " Have heat defied, endur'd the cold, 
 
 <c Ferocious men, mephitic air, 
 
 " Have towns and deserts been t y explore 
 
 " Such rarities have I amass'd ! 
 
 " And furniture ! complete, at last, 
 
 <f Such as the world ne'er saw before ! 
 
 " Tell me how long you mean to stay ? 
 " That I next week may name a day 
 " When you my rarities shall view, 
 " So full of taste ! so grand ! so new 1 
 " You, Madam, with surprise will see 
 " What ancient stores Pve brought to light ! 
 " Our young friends will delighted be ! 
 te And, Sir, your pains 'twill well requite !" 
 .1 3 
 
90 
 
 These things arranged, the strangers went, 
 And time and money freely spent, 
 In search of all that might be seen : 
 The wax-work, lions, king and queen, 
 Moor Fields, the Monument, Saint Paul's, 
 Whatever, on curious ign'rance calls. 
 
 Walking one day St, James's Street, 
 
 The 'Squire, by good luck, chancM to meet 
 
 A kinsman, once a fav'rite crony, 
 
 Well fitted for a Cicerone. 
 
 Of whims some thought he had a few, 
 
 But perfectly the town he knew : 
 
 In folly's face he'd never fly ; 
 
 Tho', now and then, in sentence dry, 
 
 Confessing that he spoke i' the dark, 
 
 He'd make some shrewd and odd remark : 
 
 Void as 'twould seem of keen suggestion, 
 
 Would ask some queer sarcastic question : 
 
 To explanation, or excuse, 
 
 Would cry " Ha ! Bless me ! What a goose !" 
 
91 
 
 But, tho' he shrug'd, and struck his head, 
 He seldom meant himself, 'tis said. 
 
 By this rencounter both were pleasM : 
 
 The 'Squire on his good kinsman seized ; 
 
 ^Twas many years since last they met ! 
 
 A friend so old he'd ne'er forget ! 
 
 His wife and family, post haste, 
 
 Had travelled up, in search of taste : 
 
 For his part, he must freely own, 
 
 He did not greatly like the town. 
 
 But, what of that ? it gave them pleasure : 
 
 They had their wish, and he had leisure. 
 
 A friend like this found no obstruction : 
 
 He meets a welcome introduction, 
 
 And Madam highly entertains : 
 
 He many knotty points explains ; 
 
 Of country prejudices weeds her; 
 
 Shopping, at noon, thro' Bond Street leads her ; 
 
 Smiles, when for taste she'll fiercely battle, 
 
 And hears good natur'dly her prattle. 
 
92 
 
 In short, he's just that kind of friend, 
 Who best might guide, and best defend, 
 From fatal blunders, such a group, 
 Fearless, untam'd, and cock-a-hoop. 
 
 Our country lady's love of fashion, 
 
 For bonnets, gowns, and caps her passion, 
 
 To purchase ev'ry thing her haste, 
 
 If prais'd for elegance, and taste, 
 
 Bracelet, etui, ear-ring, and locket, 
 
 Would soon have emptied deary's pocket, 
 
 Had not the kinsman, kind as brother, 
 
 Exerting his acquired skill, 
 
 With much good-nature, more good will, 
 
 One fool'ry made drive out another. 
 
 Hearing the creature so be-prais'd, 
 
 Determined, all, to stand amaz'd, 
 
 With fiery expectation fraught, 
 
 The box procured, the tickets bought, 
 
 Accompanied by kinsman Dorval, 
 
 Douglas 1 The Roscius ! Shepherd Norval ! 
 
93 
 
 They fly to see what must divert. 
 And now behold them on th? alert. 
 
 He's sure to have an overflow ! 
 The clock strikes six, and off they go : 
 ArrivM, they elbow, push, and squall ; 
 Miss loses shoe, Mamma her shawl ; 
 The mob immense, the party scattered, 
 DishevePd hair, and sides well battered 
 By making way, tho' vilely treated, 
 At last, behold them safely seated ! 
 
 Obstruction only tantalizes : 
 The music plays, the curtain rises, 
 The scene begins; impatience, soon, 
 Amply receives the long'd-for boon : 
 The hero comes 1 Hark ! what a roar ! 
 They clap till they can clap no more I 
 
 Praise must perforce at last subside; 
 The current turns, and ebbs the tide. 
 
94 
 
 Silence ! His lips begin to move ! 
 
 'Twere poor to say all hearts approve. 
 
 He makes a speech, and then a pause 
 
 And thunder speaks the loud applause ! 
 
 So shake the walls that some have fears 
 
 The house may fall about their ears. 
 
 " How well he steps ! Pray mind his eye ! 
 
 " Well, I declare, he's six feet high ! 
 
 f( Hark! While he speaks, how beauties strike ! 
 
 (e There ! Did you ever hear the like ! 
 
 " His voice so charming ! How emphatic ! - 
 
 " 'Tis rapture ! Oh, 'tis all ecstatic." 
 
 While broken fan, and sob, and sigh, 
 
 Wav'd handkerchief, tho' very dry, 
 
 And all impossibles unite 
 
 The heaven-born genius to requite ! 
 
 " Divine ! Miraculous ! Amazing I 
 
 " Meteor, eclipse, nor comet blazing, 
 
 " Nor dancing mountains, seas, or skies 
 
 " Never such exquisite surprise, 
 
 (t From Nature's work, was felt before ! 
 
 " From heav'n he's sent, and we adore \" 
 
95 
 
 While bombast praise would praise confute., 
 Our kinsman Dorval sat quite mute, 
 Till all inquire, with heat, if ever 
 He saw an actor half so clever ? 
 " Now have you, speak ?" 
 
 ' Ma'am, I must own, 
 ' Pm quite surprised ' 
 
 <e He stands alone ! 
 <e To our amazement, till he rose, 
 " Genius so great could you suppose ?" 
 
 ' To differ from you I were mad, 
 ' But fancy she she's apt to gad/ 
 
 <f To meet your perfect approbation 
 " What does he want ?" 
 
 ' Discrimination/ 
 
 " Nay, Sir, but all the world allows 
 " With what a grace he walks and bows." 
 
96 
 
 * True, Ma'am ; I bow to that dominion : 
 ' I'm always of the world's opinion : 
 
 ' Tho', had I not been better taught, 
 
 * 'Tis possible I might have thought 
 The Deity, whom you adore, 
 
 ' A pretty boy ' 
 
 " What! nothing more ?" 
 
 f Nay, if he follow'd Nature's plan, 
 
 ' 'Tis likely, he'd become a man ; 
 
 ( But, since he's made the ladies' toy, 
 
 f Some fear he'll live and die a boy. 
 
 ' Few things change oft'ner than the fashions ." 
 
 " Sir, he's a master of the passions." 
 
 ' He might have been, if he had known 'em !' 
 
 <( You mean he has not yet outgrown 'em. 
 te The town proclaims him great !" 
 
 ' No doubt. 
 < If cask hold wme, it may come out. 
 
97 
 
 ' He has been tap'd betimes, 'tis true : 
 ' Small beer will ferment, when 'tis new. 
 
 " Dregs, Sir, are near the bottom found." 
 ' True, froth at top ; the middle sound/ 
 " Cousin, I wonder much to hear " 
 
 e Oh, all is right, Ma'am, never fear ; 
 ' For the determined rule I've made, is, 
 ' Never to differ with the ladies.' 
 
 " Kinsman, you're arch" replies the 'Squire. 
 
 ( Oh, no ! good manners, Sir, require 
 
 f More complaisance' " Polite chicane ! " 
 
 ' Than I could ever yet attain/ 
 
 " Here all the world can talk away ! 
 " Instruction is our present task, 
 " And, for instruction, I would ask, 
 
 VOL. II. K 
 
98 
 
 '" How came each soul in London, pray, 
 " So weliinform'd?" 
 
 ' We read Reviews ; 
 e At breakfast, take a dose of news ; 
 f At dinner, politics ; at tea, 
 ' Scandal ; who quarrel, who agree ; 
 ' At Op'ra, Ball, Party, or Rout, 
 ' All are em ploy M, to peer about, 
 
 * My Lord and Mister to discover, 
 
 ( And names and titles parrot over : 
 
 * Fifty, of fashion, we miscall, 
 
 c But claim acquaintance with them all ; 
 ' And thus our beaus, vacant the skull, 
 ' Has each a mouth of small-talk full/ 
 
 " I thought the country half gone crazy ; 
 
 " Yet here ! You drive, and dress, and ride, 
 
 ft Such endless signs of pomp and pride, 
 
 " So few appear to bite the bridle, 
 
 " Of rich and poor so many idle 
 
 *' In short the whole doth much amaze me." 
 
99 
 
 r Yes, we may laugh, and pray, and pfeacfu 
 e But all, full gallop, poor and rich, 
 
 * By dashing forward, helter-skelter, 
 
 * Are soon deprived of ease and shelter. 
 
 * The wealthy will their hobbies ride : 
 
 * Why should the poor man be denied ? 
 
 * 'Tis thus each pleads ! I know no answer, 
 ' Except Go on : do all you can, Sir, 
 
 ' If poor, to starve, for want of bread ; 
 ' If full your purse, with empty head, 
 
 * Electioneer, box, gamble, race : 
 
 ' Should bankrupt stare you in the face, 
 ' Laugh at each creditor you meet, 
 
 * And buy a Rule in Bench, or Fleet/ 
 
 " Lord, Coz, at home we hear enough 
 '< Of such dull moralizing stuff! 
 " I really can't tell what you mean ! 
 " For my part, I like all I've seen." 
 
 f Madam, you have not yet seen half 
 ' At which some wonder, others laugh. 
 
100 
 
 ' Of specimens of taste, quite new, 
 
 ' You've only heard and seen a few. 
 
 ' Could he but read our daily papers, 
 
 ' 'T would cure Heraclitus o j the vapours ! 
 
 ' Dolls in high fashion, dress'd and lac'd, 
 
 ' Perfumes and powders, washes, paste, 
 
 e Tincture for gums, soap for the hand, 
 c Liqueurs, and cambrics, contraband, 
 
 f Cart loads of quacks, powder, and pill, 
 
 f That seldom either cure or kill- 
 f To sell such trump'ry thousands try ! 
 
 f And find by thousands fools, who buy ! 
 
 ' While, in a month, they make a fortune, 
 
 f Talents for work and bread importune/ 
 
 " That's hard ! DamnM hard ! A sin ! A shame ! 
 " But where's the novelty you blame ?" 
 
 ' Well put, good Sir. We may whirl round, 
 e But near the former spot are found. 
 The trick is old, the title new : 
 ' Many the fools, the wise but few : 
 
101 
 
 ' Each thing remaining much the same, 
 ' The novelty is in the name. 
 
 ' Among the poor, one mode of taste 
 
 * Is garden pots, at window plac'd, 
 
 * Which kill a child or two, we find, 
 
 * Each time there happens a high wind. 
 
 * To kill a squalling careless brat, 
 
 ' There's nothing new, you know, in that ; 
 e And, were it mother, ay, or father, 
 ' We must submit, and do, much rather 
 ' Than rob the town's progressive taste 
 ' Of pleasure, so refm'd, and chaste ! 
 
 * 'Twere cruel, should we Cockneys hinder 
 ' Gardens to plant at garret vinder ! 
 
 e Take them away, they might not know 
 ' That grass is green ; that myrtles grow: 
 ' Such things if they saw springing never, 
 ' They'd think the manufacture clever ; 
 ' Ask where the charming toys were made, 
 ' And wish perhaps to learn the trade/ 
 
 K3 
 
102 
 
 To hear such musty dull narrations, 
 Madam had neither time, nor patience : 
 New days new pleasures with them bring ! 
 Again the party's on the wing ! 
 Again the wheels of carriage whirl, 
 First to see Pidcock's- then the Girl 
 Invisible, as Daila Lama; 
 Of Trafalgar the Panorama ; 
 With sights of advertising fame, 
 Full fifty more than I can name. 
 
 Miss Mudie crownM the dear delight ! 
 " 'Twas lucky ! She came out that night ! 
 fe Thro* all the country, she'd been seen 
 " In chambermaid, princess, and queen. 
 Cf Her age ! Amazing ! 'Twas but seven ! 
 te She too was surely sent by heav'n, 
 (t Ay, quite as much as Master Betty ! 
 " 'Twas true, folks said, she was not pretty ; 
 <f But then, for acting, such an eye ! 
 You'll be astonish'd, Coz" < Pll try/ 
 
103 
 
 The Play begins ! Behold her enter ! 
 She curtseys to the sides and center : 
 It thunders not so loud, I own, 
 As such like thunder has been known : 
 Tho' raptures her first speeches meet, 
 She thinks them not at all too great. 
 
 As she proceeds, she feels surprise ! 
 For by and by poor Rapture dies ! 
 Folly fatigued, wonder grown cold, 
 The fashion half a year too old, 
 People had been amaz'd too long 
 Stern opposition, loud and strong, 
 To vindicate the taste o'the age, 
 Drove poor Miss Mudie from the stage ! 
 
 The audience hoot, hiss, cough^ and laugh. 
 
 In vain some plead, in her behalf, 
 
 Of acting she, th' epitome, 
 
 Was a much greater prodigy 
 
 Than her all potent predecessor ; 
 
 That party was resolv'd t' oppress her ; 
 
104 
 
 That 
 
 Away ! The paltry subject cloys ! 
 Too much of childish girls and boys ! 
 Nor he nor her, in verse of mine, 
 Had e'er been honor'd with one line, 
 Had they not thus, in illustration, 
 Been brought to show what has been fashion ! 
 
 Let Fungus still with Fungus vie ; 
 To night they shoot, to-morrow die * 
 A long farewel to fame deceas'd. 
 
 " Another day another feast ! 
 
 " You'll own we're going now to see 
 
 " What people of all ranks agree 
 
 " To be th' extreme of taste, and fashion ! 
 
 * f Unique ! unequalPd in the nation ! 
 
 " Each object there surprise creates! 
 
 (< But come make haste, the carriage waits." 
 
 We go, forgot are former blunders ; 
 At lust, we're in the Land of Wonders ! 
 
105 
 
 For this we were to town invited : 
 Oh, we are sure to be delighted ! 
 
 The host, with gay enraptur'd heart, 
 Performs the Cicerone's part ; 
 What language, but his own, could paint 
 Taste so refin'd, notion so quaint ? 
 Or, who but he could tell what there, 
 With reason, might make people stare ! 
 
 The lady would have drawn a chair, 
 
 But he, with quick polite excuse, 
 
 Exclaim'd " Dear Ma'am, they will not move ; 
 
 te This is screw'd down, that's in a groove : 
 
 " They're made for show and not for use." 
 
 Yes, by my faith, they're all amaz'd ! 
 Here Turkey, there Arabia, blaz'd ! 
 Greece, Egypt, Tuscany, and Rome 
 Well met, hail fellow ! Here they come, 
 In spite of distance, wind, and weather, 
 And pell-mell jumble all together ! 
 
106 
 
 " Here tripod lions gape, and wait ! 
 
 " There fish like screens their fins dilate ! 
 
 te Tarn this way, Ma'am, your eyes to feast! 
 
 " This monster ! Neither bird nor beast ! 
 
 " Talons of griffin here are spread ! 
 
 ce There the ferocious tyger head ! 
 
 " But this sarcophagus ! look here ! 
 
 " With much amazement, more of fear, 
 
 " The eye that views them first they strike ! " 
 
 ' Dear Sir, I never saw the like P 
 
 <e Look at these classic leopard jaws ! 
 " To have these things in this fine style 
 " Pve travelled ! many a thousand mile. 3> 
 
 ' Thank Heaven they're only heads and claws/ 
 Replied the 'Squire, with smother'd groan, 
 * Or, they're so plentifully shower'd, 
 ' We should be quickly all devour'd ! 
 e Pd rather plant a field, I own, 
 
107 
 
 * Than monsters such, and dangers meet, 
 
 f Only to have their heads and feet : 
 
 Y Nor would they my attention win, 
 
 ( Though you should add the claws and skin ! 
 
 ' But this I say with vast submission : 
 
 ' I reason ill ; I'm no logician/ 
 
 Our host, with smile of self-conceit, 
 Went on : the 'Squire was quite discreet. 
 
 " This, Ma'am, is my Moriscan Room ; 
 " And this you'll find Turkish costume ; 
 " This Arabic, and this Tartarian." 
 
 ' Goodness! I thought such folks Barbarian P 
 
 " Oh, Ma'am, 'tis they now set the fashion, 
 " In fancied tasteful decoration." 
 
 f What here a bit and there a scrap ? 
 ' I may be ignorant, mayhap, 
 
108 
 
 ' Nor do I make the least pretension, 
 
 ' But, in my simple apprehension, 
 
 f Good sense these people much abuse, 
 
 ' If such unwieldy things they use ! 
 
 But this the 'Squire, with cautious fear, 
 Just whisper'd in his lady's ear ; 
 AlannM lest, by her love of taste, 
 His mansion might be shortly grac'd 
 With such like beds as Rome once wrought ; 
 Or tables first from Egypt brought. 
 
 Egypt, prepost'rously in vogue ! 
 
 Egypt^ where Mam'lukes disembogue 
 
 Their barbarous sanguinary arts, 
 
 And glut with blood their thirsty hearts ! 
 
 Egypt, at Paris so beprais'd ! 
 
 Paris delights to stand amazM : 
 
 Egypt, which pyramids has built; 
 
 Eternal proofs of tyrant guilt; 
 
 Vast monuments of damnM oppression ; 
 
 From man demanding execration ! 
 
109 
 
 Egypt, when men were blind, prolific 
 
 In arts most truly scientific : 
 
 With knowledge relative they teem'd, 
 
 Which ignorance must now be cleenrd ; 
 
 Their sciences are half Barbarian, 
 
 Except to dotard antiquarian, 
 
 Who holds them worthy more of lecture 
 
 The more they're matter of mere conjecture : 
 
 Egypt, whose hieroglyphic brood, 
 
 Admir'd because not understood, 
 
 We soon shall see on door, and wall, 
 
 Our wonder, or contempt, to call : 
 
 Or sign for shop, that sells shalloon ; 
 
 Like Roscius, or air-puff'd balloon : 
 
 Yes, Egypt, which, in page of history, 
 
 Recorded stands the place of myst'ry, 
 
 Is now, by pedantry accurs'd, 
 
 Because unknown, proclaimed the first ! 
 
 Whate'er is foisted into view, 
 As wonderful, for being new, 
 ,Hops into note, like Kangaroo! 
 
 VOL. II. L 
 
110 
 
 Something too long, this admonition : 
 We must attend our exhibition. 
 
 " Here, Ma'am, I imitate the Gothic 1 
 
 " These slabs of malble pray observe ! 
 
 " This Gorgon leg and ckw ! What nerve ! 
 
 " And here ! These forms are all sarcophic ! 
 
 ec On table, sofa, bed, and chair, 
 
 " Sarcophagi are ev'ry where ! 
 
 " And there another mausoleum ! 
 
 " I doubt, dear Sir, you don't half see 'em." 
 
 Dorval replied, ' I'm all attention ; 
 e With wonder note your vast invention. 
 f From all these tombs, it well appears, 
 * Taste has been dead two thousand years/ 
 
 " Right, Sir, and more," our host exclaim'd ! 
 
 Quibbling conceit his notice drew. 
 
 " Upholstry men are all asham'd 
 
 fe That I should thus good taste renew, 
 
 " Yes, I ! 'Twas left for me to do !" 
 
Ill 
 
 The 'Squire just hints, in language quaint, 
 ' 'Tis furniture ! and yet it an't ! 
 * I doubt lest I should gather, thence, 
 ' That taste is not akin to sense/ 
 
 " Not common sense, but sense refin'd ;" 
 
 Mr. Exhibitor rejoin'd/ 
 
 " But what Virtu most loudly praises, 
 
 " Perhaps, come next ! My Urns, and Vases : 
 
 f( Etruscan most ; brought pack'd in wool : 
 
 " Here, this way, Madam ; four rooms full I" 
 
 * Four rooms stuck full of crock'ry ware !' 
 
 " Ay I Is't not novel ?" ' I declare 
 
 ' I never saw so much before, 
 
 * Except at Wedgewood's trinket shop *$ 
 ' And much I doubt if he have more/ 
 
 " Wedge wood I Lord, Ma'am, I hope you'll drop 
 " Comparison, 'tween him and me." 
 
 * Nothing injurious is here intended to the respected name 
 of Wedge wood, so honorable to science and art. 
 
112 
 
 * Why yes, I feel Prn wrong, for he 
 c SeUs ev'ry nick-nack on his shelf; 
 
 * But you, Sir, keep them all yourself.' 
 
 Proud to have made a lucky hit, 
 Madam indulged a giggling fit : 
 Our host, half nettled, kept abaft; 
 He lik'd not visitor that laugh'd. 
 
 The 'Squire observed his kinsman's eye, 
 Which often gave a look indignant, 
 Accompanied by smile malignant, 
 And short remark, as usual,, dry. 
 Tho' under kept, in some disguise, 
 Their thoughts appeared to sympathize. 
 When ask'd, 'tis 'true, they sometimes praisM ; 
 They well might say they were amaz'd. 
 
 Awhile, the 'Squire remain'd in thought, 
 And much repented he had brought 
 His son and heir, ardent and young, 
 His wife, and all her rising brood, 
 Who there in foolish rapture stood : 
 
113 
 
 Yes, zeal unusual fir'd his tongue ! 
 Accustom'd diffidence resigned, 
 He boldly thus declarM his mind. 
 
 " Homespun and plain, in country bred, 
 <f I yet have often heard, and read, 
 " That ev'ry thing its use should have, 
 <f And thought the maxim wise, and grave. 
 ts Here's wholesale finery, I grant, 
 " But not a single thing you want." 
 
 ' Sir! Want!' 
 
 " Yes, want." 
 
 ' Object so grand !- 
 ' I really, Sir, don't understand * 
 
 " To tell you truly, Sir, nor I ; 
 et Therefore request you'll show me why 
 " You made your house a magazine, 
 L 3 
 
114 
 
 " For gewgaws of the strangest kind ! 
 te Which common sense must stare to find ! 
 tc Such objects as were never seen ! 
 " Those claws and paws, on ev'ry chair, 
 " Those lion legs, what do they there ? 
 fe Tell me the union, if you're able, 
 t Between a tiger and a table ? 
 " Here heads of men, with honns and wings ! 
 " There leopard muzzles, holding rings! 
 " Why is this pompous tripod placM, 
 " And lovely woman thus disgraced ? 
 te Her face, neck, breast, with wings are found, 
 " While here are legs and tail of hound. 
 ( There she bears tripod up ; and here 
 te Beauty becomes a chandelier! 
 " This room long rows of sphinx discloses ; 
 " This, lions wing'd, with tails of roses ! 
 " Never before did I behold 
 " Such waste of labor, thought, and gold." 
 
 ' Waste, my dear Sir ! did you say waste ?' 
 
115 
 
 " If so you please, pray call it taste. 
 
 " Wherefore on bed-post should we place 
 
 " Here griffin-claw? there panther-face ? 
 
 t Taste should have some small sense, at least ! 
 
 " How came you by th' association, 
 
 tc What union have you, what relation, 
 
 " Between wood, iv'ry, stone, and beast ? 
 
 " Having begun, where will you stop ? 
 
 * f This barn is made a broker's shop, 
 
 " Loaded with trumpery immense, 
 
 " In short, more whims, devoid of sense, 
 
 " Than I could e'er find words to speak ! 
 
 " Of things which should be meant for use, 
 
 " I ne'er beheld so much abuse ! 
 
 " Pray pardon me, my friend ! I break 
 " My mind, I own, too freely, far : 
 " I'm greatly with myself at war : 
 " So much I love my children's good, 
 " I can't be silent, or I would. 
 
 " The wealth a man may this way fool 
 ** Would well endow a public school ; 
 
116 
 
 ** Or build a hospital, or church ! 
 " A visitor is left i' th' lurch ! 
 " For him, politeness can't afford 
 " A single night of bed and board ! 
 
 et Leagued with the whole upholst'ry tribe, 
 " French monster makers sure must bribe 
 " Fantastic devils to torment ye ! 
 Sf Take my advice, dear Sir; repent ye ! 
 
 <e Curses confound the fools of France, 
 " Who after whims for ever dance ! 
 " They truly boast that they began 
 " Most of the fooPries known to man ! 
 " Feathered alike instead and heel ! 
 
 " I am a father, I may feel, 
 
 < Perhaps, too much ; but here's my son> 
 
 " Determined folly's race to run, 
 
 te And to outlandish regions go, 
 
 " In search of taste : how do I know 
 
 " But he may mortgage rack and rent, 
 
 fe Squander estates of long descenf, 
 
117 
 
 <f Ridiculous in dissipation, 
 
 4t That he may be in high-flown fashion : 
 
 fe Till he at last bequeath his heir 
 
 *' Two griffins, carv'd on elbow chair ? 
 
 se Oh, Sir, bethink yourself, I pray, 
 
 " How money may improve the state ! 
 
 " I beg forgiveness, if I prate, 
 
 tc But Pve my fears such fashions may 
 
 " Drive the whole nation folly mad ! 
 
 1t May not much better things be had ? 
 
 " Cast olF self-love ; consult the wise; 
 
 " Conduct the stream, to fertilize ; 
 
 " Nature obey, in every want ; 
 
 " Those wants in all relations feed ; 
 
 " Keep flocks and herds ; improve the breed 
 
 " Dig the canal ; the forest plant ; 
 
 " Wrest barren lands from Bagshot Heath ; 
 
 " If Roman laurels you would wreathe, 
 
 " To show your taste, take other modes: 
 
 " Build Roman bridges ! Roman roads ! 
 
 " So shall your patriot name endure ! 
 
 " Objects like these pure fame secure. 
 
118 
 
 " Once more, pray pardon me ! Pm wrong I 
 " I feel I've babbled much too long, 
 " Come, kinsman Dorval, let us walk : 
 " You're quite asham'd to hear me talk/' 
 
 e Sir, I applaud your honest zeal ! 
 < Pd talk myself, did I not feel 
 e That talking is to fashion vain ; 
 c I therefore spare myself the pain/ 
 
 f To fashion I make no pretence, 
 ff I love to keep a grain of sense ; 
 " Whene'er, good Sir, on me you call, 
 " Bring who you will to Melton Hall : 
 " Being your friends, well shall they share 
 " Our frank fire-side, and country fare. 
 " Fearful you think I speak from spleen, 
 " Pll do my best to prove I mean 
 " To act with honest head and heart. 
 <e Come, wife and children, let's depart, 
 <( And no more time in London waste : 
 " I hope you've had enough of taste ! v 
 
119 
 
 On neither part quite satisfied, 
 
 With soften'd language both replied : 
 
 The candid 'Squire his rudeness blam'd : 
 
 The host felt secretly asham'cl : 
 
 Sincerity, without grimace, 
 
 Plain truth had told, with heart-felt zeal, 
 
 Till he at length began to feel 
 
 He partly merited disgrace. 
 
 May like exuberance of conceit 
 
 The like reproof for ever meet ! 
 
 By unexpected sarcasm stung, 
 
 He chew'd the cud and held his tongue : 
 
 He would not show as if he smarted, 
 
 So half good humor'd Jy they parted. 
 
 Whoe'er you are, my honest friend, 
 Oh, may the curse of much virtu, 
 And little sense, ne'er light on you ! 
 And with this well meant wish I end. 
 
INNOVATION 
 
 A TALE OF COMPLAINT. 
 
 VOL. If. 
 
 M 
 
INNOVATION: 
 
 A TALE OF COMPLAINT. 
 
 TALE XIII. 
 
 ODE 
 
 BY WAY OF SUBLIME INTRODUCTION. 
 
 STAND off! Let her have elbow-room, to ravei 
 
 Stand off,. I say ! The Muse is in a rage 1 
 Something she feels it must be ire 
 She half suspects she's half on fire ! 
 What, shall this wise enlightened age, 
 I say, shall so renownM a nation, 
 
 Which, by old rules, as all our records tell, 
 
 Has always managM its affairs so welJ, 
 So far from ev'ry blunder free, 
 
 Sir, if you doubt, ask at the Treasury ! 
 
 Britannia, Sir, once more I ask, shall she, 
 Become the slave 
 
 Of rash, audacious, headlong Innovation t 
 M 2 
 
124 
 
 What mean those dictatorial fellows. 
 
 Proud, poor, and vain, 
 Who ev'ry day presume to tell us 
 The world is bad enough to mend ? 
 
 Are they insane ? 
 
 From Doctors learn'd it well appears, 
 It has jogg'd on five thousand years, 
 
 Aye, Sir, and more ! 
 Pll not be nice about an hour ; 
 Nor, to be candid, can I say 
 That I precisely know the day ; 
 
 But there or there about : 
 And now, grown old, and near her end, 
 
 Her constitution worn, 
 RackM with disease, catarrh, stone, gout. 
 By fifty thousand death-distempers torn^, 
 You call on her to mend ! 
 
 Go, silly fool,, 
 
 Go send your brains to gather wool* 
 Bid the old tatter'd cassock of Sir Hugh 
 Regenerate, and change again to new. 
 
125 
 
 The world is bad enough to mend ! 
 Varlets ! T' unmanner'd interference prone, 
 Go ! Mind your shops, and let the world alone ! 
 
 Which way may you pretend to know ? 
 
 But, if it were ! Suppose it so ! 
 
 What's that to us ? 'twill last our time : 
 Blockheads alone would make content a crime. ^ 
 
 When such pretended patriots preach, 
 
 What are the doctrines they would teach ? 
 
 And whither do they tend ? 
 Pll tell you, Mooncalves ! Ignorant and blind ! 
 To make one monstrous malecontent of all mankind. 
 
 When shall the ponderous truth be understood, 
 That the collective mass of Evil forms 
 One grand, sublime, inevitable good ! 
 Evil I A blessing, vast ! 'Tis safety harms 1 
 
 Let innovating Blockheads chafe, 
 But, know, were we too happy, or too safe, 
 
 We should spring up so fast, 
 
 Men, women, children, there would be such swarms, 
 We should at one another up at last ! 
 
126 
 
 Nay, now I well bethink me, 'twould be worse t 
 We should be subject to a greater curse ! 
 
 The very clay, of which we're made, 
 Would quickly quite be wanting, in the trade 1 
 Poor souls ! The human race 
 Would no where find a single place, 
 Nor house, nor alley, lane, or street, 
 In which to stand, or sit, or set their feet ! 
 When Terra-firma should be quite work'd up, 
 
 Down they must drop 
 By wholesale, one and all ! 
 Into the sea, plump, 
 They must jump, 
 Or fall ! 
 
 But, happily, War, Famine, Pestilence 1 
 Their favors at due intervals dispense, 
 
 To thin the ranks ; 
 
 For which we owe them, ah, how many thanks 1 
 *Tis they that check prolific health and peace ! 
 'Tis they that counteract the dire increase 
 
 Of pure Felicity ! 
 
127 
 
 Thus, cities sack'd, 
 Thus, plains made desolate, 
 Thus, each atrocious devil's act, 
 Such as the lips abhor while they narrate, 
 Are blessings, mighty! Vast! Supreme in higk 
 degree ! 
 
 Hail Bonaparte ! Saviour of Mankind ! 
 Hail, Malthus ! Ignorant and blind 
 
 Were we, 
 Till thou didst raise 
 Thy most instructive, sweet, consoling voice ! 
 
 What tongue shall yield thee proper praise ! 
 Oh, mighty heroes, well may he rejoice, 
 Who shall have livM in that exalted age 
 That gave ye birth ! 
 
 For ye, 
 
 Of all Mankind, 
 Are merciful and sage ! 
 Hail Both ! Ye plagues of Egypt hail ! 
 Hail all ye mis'ries, ripe and congregate, 
 That now so powerfully purgate earth ! 
 
128 
 
 Whatever men most dread and hate, 
 Ills present, past, and those to come, all hail 1 . 
 
 How pleas'd are we to find 
 Ye cannot, Heav'n be prais'd, ye cannot fail ! 
 
 Oh, man of calculation most profound, 
 
 To thy discoveries how are we indebted ! 
 
 Thy lucubrations,, well with glory crownM, 
 
 By proofs, non -controvert, have guilt abetted ! 
 With what sagacity of pen, 
 Hast thou brought evidence that men 
 In mischief may and must delight ! 
 
 How hast thou provM <f whatever is, is right !'*' 
 Like comet, starting from its sphere, 
 Thou bringst, in thy most dreadful train, 
 
 Whatever of deadly woe, and mortal pain, 
 
 Mankind behold with trembling aweful fear ! 
 
 Upon my word, a subject so sublime, 
 So grateful ! so consoling ! 
 
 Amazement seizing ! Faculties controlling ! 
 
 Proving that happiness derives from crime I 
 
129 
 
 The glorious theme, I say, 
 Absorbing thought, has led me quite astray. 
 
 Yet no, 'tis serious matter of complaint, 
 
 Which Pin about to bring; 
 'Gainst one who has been held a sort of Saint, 
 
 In her vocation : 
 Yes! 'gainst her who oh, for the hornet's sting ! 
 
 Beware the smart ! 
 
 Out it should dart, 
 
 At Siddons and accurst presumptuous Innovation. 
 This mortal sin she has committed long; 
 The Muse is rous'd, indignant is the song, 
 
 THE TALE. 
 
 Holla ! Good people, afe ye dead ! 
 Hear high and low, well and ill bred, 
 Ye who are wise, ye who are silly, 
 From Hyde Park turnpike, Piccadilly, 
 To Cornhill standard, or Mile End, 
 Southwark, Moor-Fields, Limehouse, attend ! 
 
130 
 
 Ye public, wheresoe'er ye hide, 
 
 Because ye 're poor ; or, swell'd with pride, 
 
 In all the pomp of splendor hive; 
 
 Or Jehu down St. James's drive ; 
 
 Ye world of London* hear ! awake ! 
 
 To you this grand appeal I make. 
 
 Attend, each spruce box-lobby beau T 
 
 With decent insolence appear. 
 
 I ask impossibles, I know ! 
 
 Ye half-price ladies, in the rear, 
 
 Forbear your impudence, and hear ! 
 
 Make us not curse poltroon police ; 
 
 Disgrace not Bow-Street, keep the peace 1 
 
 Ye daily Critics, who bestow 
 Knowledge so much, so Mttle know, 
 Raw-head and bloody-bones to those 
 Who, like yourselves, by verse and prose, 
 Would purchase butter, bread, and cheese, 
 Come, one and all ; I pray you, please, 
 
131 
 
 Your proper consequence displayed, 
 At this high suit, to give your aid ! 
 
 The Bench is summon'd Silence ! Hear ! 
 
 Go, bid the guilty wretch appear. 
 
 Culprit, stand forth ! Siddons attend ! 
 
 Think not I come, a flattering friend, 
 
 With dull encomiastic lays, 
 
 To trumpet forth exhausted praise : 
 
 No ! Dread the vengeance of my rhymes ! 
 
 Tis mine your most unheard of crimes, 
 
 Daring, to point to public view, 
 
 Till all the world shall own them true ; 
 
 With these the general ear Fll cleave, 
 
 Ay, till your very foes shall grieve, 
 
 While ev'ry word their hearts shall wring 
 
 Reading the proofs of guilt I bring. 
 
 First then It makes my blood run cold ! 
 It cannot be with temper told, 
 When on the public Theatre 
 
132 
 
 Such deeds are done ! Yes, I aver, 
 With old established rules at war, 
 You, Siddons, an enchantress are! 
 
 Lately, to London when you came *, 
 
 When, Garrick, Barry, Mossop gone, 
 
 High priests Melpomene had none, 
 
 You found an antiquated dame, 
 
 One Tragedy, whom no man knew ; 
 
 Whose visage, like the taste of rue, 
 
 Excited sickness and disgust ; 
 
 Whom none might love, whom none might trust ; 
 
 So palpable was her deceit, 
 
 Acknowledged at all times a cheat, 
 
 That sense and taste, in honest rage, 
 
 Had hiss'd her off the public stage : 
 
 Yes, lost was her majestic mien ! 
 
 And, now, by sorceries, all your own, 
 
 Again, on abdicated throne, 
 
 * The greatest part of this poem was written in 1785. 
 
133 
 
 You've seated her, a sovereign queen ! 
 Train-bearers, slaves, attendants, mutes, 
 Not one, of all, her power disputes! 
 Spectators, prone to disobey, 
 Acknowledge her imperial sway ! 
 Once more resuming pristine youth, 
 What was deception now is truth ! 
 
 But, that you mayn't pretend I speak 
 From malice, or from private pique, 
 I'll here insert a sep'rate clause, 
 To show what kind of Dame she was. 
 
 Know, then, she'ad much affected state, 
 
 And stalkM or waddl'd in her gait ; 
 
 For 'twas become a rule with her 
 
 To be at all times singular ; 
 
 And she supposM herself the best, 
 
 Whenever, most unlike the rest 
 
 Of human kind, she stamp'd, and star'd, 
 
 And with unmeaning horror glared, 
 
 VOL. II. N 
 
134 
 
 Like amputated head at axe ! 
 Or Saint Bartholomew in. wax ! 
 
 Nor was it gait and glare, alone ; 
 Her voice and manner were her own : 
 Sometimes, with strange sepulchral squeak, 
 She'd bellow, when she ought to speak ; 
 Or whine out storms and sorrows wintry, 
 Like a high wind in hollow entry. 
 In gusts her April passion blew; 
 And, when the squall attention drew, 
 She'd suddenly become as calm 
 As preacher, while folk sing the Psalm : 
 Patient would wait, tho' 'twere a week, 
 Till her turn carne again to speak : 
 Like those who stay till corn is ground, 
 Would stand still while the mill went round : 
 Nor at opponent would take huff, 
 "Who ground his words out fast enough : 
 She valued no such blustring Sir, 
 Nor all that he could say of her, 
 
135 
 
 Tho* most sublimely he abus'd her, 
 No fig she car'd how ill he us'd her, 
 But kept her countenance quite placid, 
 To show the oil subdued the acid, 
 Till he her recollection drew, 
 By thundering in her ear her cue. 
 
 Then, as when shake excites encore, 
 Again you'd hear a sudden roar ! 
 Again convulsive throbs, and throes, ' 
 Pauses, and pants, pell-mell, arose ! 
 Then, horror glar'd, in either eye, 
 Tho* no man knew for what, or why, 
 Or if 'twere best to laugh or cry ! 
 
 So well could she the passions mix 
 And jumble, in her quondam tricks, 
 So strong was art, so weak was nature, 
 You could not guess, from voice or feature. 
 If she, who thus did foam and bawl, 
 In epileptic fit would fall ! 
 N 2 
 
136 
 
 Or if this frantic stage-struck lover 
 Her senses ever would recover ! 
 
 But, now, to sense and nature true, 
 
 She'as lost her former self, in you ! 
 
 Shame on you, Madam ! Yes, shame ! Shame ! 
 
 Who can bestow sufficient blame ! 
 
 How dare you thus, by all eyes seen, 
 
 Appear a heroine, or queen, 
 
 Or wife, or mother, or whate'er 
 
 The Poet took such special care, 
 
 With utmost stretch of art, to paint ! 
 
 Men you make weep, and women faint, 
 
 Or in hysterics fall, and shriek ! 
 
 Nature, asham'd that she's so weak, 
 
 Loudly proclaims, in all you do, 
 
 She sees her very self in you ! 
 
 Shall you presume, in ev'ry part. 
 Thus to abolish all that art 
 Had taught, with labor, line, and rule ! 
 Shall she by you be sent to school ! 
 
137 
 
 Conduct like this shall we endure ! 
 
 Can no example work a cure ? 
 
 Present or past, but on you go, 
 
 Afflicting us with mad'ning woe ! 
 
 Who but yourself, in form and feature, 
 
 Has thus exposM pure naked nature ? 
 
 Others, more modest, or more wise, 
 
 Have cloak'd her in such close disguise, 
 
 E'en when they most have meant to show her, 
 
 That not a soul on earth could know her. 
 
 They, when we came prepared to weep. 
 
 Took care to make us laugh, or sleep. 
 
 Art their acknowledged benefactress, 
 
 They knew what best befits an actress : 
 
 What sinkings, and what swoonings are ; 
 
 And when to start, and how to stare, 
 
 In manner so as not t' alarm 
 
 A single soul, with fear of harm. 
 
 When all is over, home we're sent, 
 To wonder why the plague we went ! 
 N 3 
 
138 
 
 Nor e'er remember what we 'ave seen, 
 Except with weariness, and spleen. 
 Whereas, when you the passions whet, 
 We can't resist ! we can't forget ! 
 Our dinners, nay, each nightly dream, 
 With many imag'd horrors teem ; 
 The peaceful slumbers of the night 
 Thou dar'st disturb, with feign'd affright ; 
 Nor e'en by day can mem'ry be 
 From thy most potent sorc'ries free. 
 
 Complaint is vain ; nor prose nor verse 
 
 Can half thy public crimes rehearse. 
 
 Let it subside I mean the storm, 
 
 Hoping hereafter for Reform ; 
 
 Of Innovation made aware, 
 
 Sin thou no more, and Pll forbear. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Confusion ! Will you drive me mad ? 
 Again to Innovation add ? 
 
139 
 
 What little imp is this, that comes, 
 
 And cocks her chin, and twirls her thumbs, 
 
 And prattles all her nonsense o'er, 
 
 And sets the public in a roar ! 
 
 Why she's as great a witch as t'other ! 
 
 I fear they had one common mother ! 
 
 Children of Nature both ! and Art, 
 
 In neither, has nor claim nor part: 
 
 Shalt thou too, Jordan, dare to brave 
 
 Routine, of which all were the slave ! 
 
 Void of restraint, unbridled, wild, 
 
 Show Nature's laughter-loving child ! 
 
 Thalia bring in person here ! 
 
 Enchant the heart ! delight the ear ! 
 
 By laughter, captivate the mind ! 
 
 Surprised that sense, so far refin'd, 
 
 Should be with farce itself combin'd ! 
 
 Jordan, shall you these modes abet, 
 And arrogantly dare forget 
 You're but an actress ! Nay, we too 
 Forget it, quite as much as you ! 
 
140 
 
 So rooted is this strange mistake, 
 Instead of Mrs. Jordan, we 
 My Lady, Nell, or Peggy seel 
 Each character your own you make ! 
 
 Shall you thus nightly heap disgrace 
 On that old stager, Dame Grimace ? 
 Who but yourself disdains her aid ? 
 Others, of Nature's force afraid, 
 Nightly invoke stage trick, and grin, 
 That they may GalPry laughter win ; 
 While you, not in a single part, 
 Will deign to seek resource from Art ! 
 But on you come, and talk away, 
 Nature still prompting what to say, 
 And ev'ry word, and look, and act, 
 Join to produce the same effect. 
 Thus, while the comic scene you fill. 
 We're so bewitch'd we can't sit still \ 
 Your happy leok, your tones of voice. 
 Concur to bid the heart rejoice : 
 Nor grief, nor slow corroding care, 
 Nor dulaess cfcmes, while you are ther \ 
 
141 
 
 Fm mad I say to know, each night. 
 You give the public fresh delight ! 
 You send them so light-hearted home, 
 Time after time, per force, they come! 
 So potently their hearts you win, 
 They all encourage you to sin ! 
 And while you break well-known stage laws, 
 They but bestow the more applause ! 
 
 The charges here alleg'd are true 5 
 This castigation is your due. 
 Siddons and you worthily yoke ! 
 Perversely shall you both provoke 
 That arm, which others so much dread ! 
 On you alighting, falls it dead ! 
 Can no reproof your pride abash ? 
 What, shall you laugh at satire's lash ! 
 The Town still firm on your behalf,. 
 At carping critics shall you laugh ? 
 And shall a much insulted nation 
 Endure this new old innovation ? 
 
142 
 
 My pen worne out, exhausted, quite, 
 No more, at present, can I write. 
 To good old customs Pm the friend 
 Jordan beware ! Siddons attend! 
 1 koow not which to blame the most, 
 So much has each the Town engross'd : 
 Cujprits ! Alike in sin you share 
 Recorded stand a matchless pair ! 
 In former quiet could we sleep, 
 We now must either laugh or weep. 
 In these your spells why have you bound us ; 
 Have doue ! and leave us where you found us ; 
 Or ink, of greater gall than mine, 
 Shall bring to punishment, condign,. 
 In chaste and more important rhymes, 
 Such flagrant and notorious crimes ! 
 With certain and successful aim, 
 Shall damri.you to eternal fame ! 
 
 THE END. 
 
By the same Author. 
 
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