c o. en o <= ( ^ 1 2 i 33 ' 55 == o ~ 1 BRAI ! ^ at-vj' v urco i/v* THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES CI* /N "J* ' T U'^ "V, Wer THE ^St of jTn^JoUtp. VRicE 2s. 6a, PRINTED BY JAMES CVMDEEt Ivy-Lane. y jj ^ THE %e of dTn^JoUtg : POEM, ADDRESSED TO TUB VASmO'RAbU'., THE BVSY. vlXD WE RELIGIOUS WORLD. j.^ V ?h-- TIMOTHY TOUCH'EM. " ' > *' Doubly dktrest, what authorshall yre find Di>creet1y daring, and severely kind; The courtly Romans' shining path to tread, /nd sharply smite prevailing folly dead .' Will no su)>erior genius tnatcli the quill, And eave me on the brink of writing ill (' YOUNG. LONDON: PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR, AN'D SOLD BY WILLIAMS AND SMITH, STATIONERS-COURT, Jordan and Maxwell, 33 1, strand ; Ricliard Beck, 30, Raldiff Highway j and 1. Omer, Butt-lane, Deptfoid. IS06. PREFACE. 1 HE following Poem took its rise from the cir* cumstance of some very zcet and zcinterly weather al the beginning of the year, constraining the au" thnr to seek enteitainment for himself within doors. During that space, nearly the whole of thefrst part teas written as the scenes arose to the imagination. The two other parts have been composed at intervals, some of the fragments whilst walking the streets of London, and some while rambling in the country. It seems necessary to acquaint the reader with the adventitious mode of its composition, to account for the want of con-' nexion in the subjects, and deficiency of artful ar^ rangement of the whole. It will easily be seen that the materials are mat* ters of fact, painted with a small degree of li' cence, merely to present their absurdity, or vicious- tiess, in a strong and conspicuous light. 824688 ly PREFACE. The author hopes, that whatever seeming seve- rity he may liave occasionally assumed, still it will appear, that in general a joke lurks under the disguise, and that he is really severe only where the object is offensive to good manners, or sound morals, and may become irjurious to private hap" piness or public worth. It is also hoped, that however plai^ul he may seem, yet that it will be apparent he is serious, and earnest, in endeavour'^ ing to discountenance Jolly and vice, and most heartily desirous of promoting the came of truth and virtue. He solemnly declares he nould sooner burn this production, and all that he has ever written, than wilfully propagate an error, or excite a pain in the bosom of innocence. The writer has nothing to say for the manner of the performance, further, than to remind tJte reader that it would be absurd to describe extras vagant and frivolous topics in a polished strain of poet ly. The author employs himself with verse as with music, not as his profession, but amusC" ment ; and many a care and vexation has he be-, guiled by the means of these powerful agents in present enjoyment. The serious reader will perceive that the subject increases in importance as it proceeds, until itclosei tHEFACE. T rcith the most solemnof all things, still preserving as much as possible the smile of gay good-humour, in order that the most trijiing mind might he iri" diiced to think, whilst aiming only at its ozvn en'- tertainment. Jt may he thought strange, that so dreadful a practice as duelling should be placed among amuse- ments ; but, as the subject required the notice of what is most frivolous, it teas impossible this ridi- culous proof of honor and wanton waste of life should be omitted; and where else could it be pjlaced ? not among occupations, for as yet assas" sination and murder have not become a trade among us ; nor still less could it be put to the ac- count of religion, which teaches the spirit and practice of humility , meekness, and love, instead of the pride and revenge necessary to make a duellist. Beside, however fatally the practice may termi- nate to the parties engaged in it, it often becomes a matter of entertainment to the fashionable zoortd. That the piece, (such as it is) may contribute to the pleasure and improvement of the reader, is the utmost desire of the author. CONTENTS OF PART I. Page AMUSEMENT 1 French Revolution 2 Destruction of old Forms ..... 3 Making an Emperor 4 Puerile Entertainment 5 Early Destruction 6 Vitiated Taste in Music 7 Extravaganzas 8 Ball and Masquerade 9 Fashionable Illness 10 Trip to Margate ......... 11 Charit}' Sermon 12 Chariuble Feasting 13 Bull-baiting 14 Cruel Diversion 15 Degradation 16 The Duellist 17 Fashionable Honour 18 Pugilism 19 Cruelty to Horses 20 A Horse Race 1 Society 22 Intemperance ... .' .... 23 Gambling .... ^ .... 24 The Gamester . 25 Card Party 6 Book-making 27 Circulating Library 28 Novel-reading 29 The Seat of- Happiness . . . ; . SO The Source of Happiness 31 Rational Amusements 38 THE AGE OF FRIVOLITY, PART I. AMUSEMENT. IE airy beings who incessant glide Through Fancy's realms, and o'er her works preside: Ye sylphs and sylphids, light fantastic throng, Who float like summer gossamers along ; Or subtler Genii, who fine webs devise To catch your fools, as spiders catch their flies ; Or Morpheus, king of dreams, whose potent hand With leaden sceptre sways Utopia's land ; Oh ! aid the INIuse in her adventurous flight, Through the vast regions of a world of night. 10 It comes, I feel the aid, and o'er my theme 1 nod and yawn, and scribble while I dream. Boys blow their bubbles, then with wonder gaze. To see them dance awhile their airy maze ; They burst, they vanish, still the suds supply, Another, and another yet to fly. AGE OF FRIVOLITY. French Revolution. So bubbles, empty, fleeting, light, as these, Our boys and girls of six feet high, can please. E'en nations have their play-things ; right or wrong, Or bless'd, or scourg'd, all ends in dance and song. See France, long held in hoodwink'd bondage fast, Rouse from her ietharjgy of ages past. Now Vengeance undistinguishing takes place, Alike on ancient follies, forms, and grace. King, priests, and nobles sweeps to general doom, Like worn out lumber from a filthy room. Ten dreadful years she heaves convulsive throes, The fev'rish crisis of a nation's woes. How many from their homes in terror fled ! How many on the crowded scaffold bled ! 30 What crews ingulphed beneath the briny main !* "What slaughter'd hosts bestrew'd th* embattled plain ! What sudden change what desp'rate fits she had ! Half Europe trembled, while all France run mad. What mighty cause, or demon most profane. With vile enchantments, turu'd the nation's brain ? Two hellish monsters in the work combiu'd. One held the body chain'd, and one the mind. The English aod republican fleets had an engagement in 1794, in which four of the French sbJi were sent to the bottom with all their crews. ACE OF FRITOLITY. Destruction of the old Forms. First hard Oppression rul'd with iron rod, Then Superstition worshipped man for God. 40 So long they reign'd, and so intrench'd their pow'r, They never dreamt of Retribution's hour. Grown bold and fearless, insolent in pride, The veil of Decency was cast aside. The laughing world saw thro' the forms they wore, And scorn'd the idols they ador'd before. Thus near the ocean's side some tall cliff stands. Frowns o'er the sea, and shades the humbler lands ; "Wave after wave each other restless chase, To kiss its feet, and undermine its base. 50 At length the hollow mass falls down the steep, And rude waves triumph o'er the prostrate heap. All reverence banish'd, all restraint o'erthrown, They boast a portion, yet to them unknown ; These crimes, O Liberty ! were done for thee, Thy name their passport, and thy cause their plea. Alas! they knew Thee not, but blindly chose Licentiousness instead, thy worst of foes ; And thou hast left them, frivolous and vain. To forge themselves a new and heavier chain ; 60 To rear an higher throne, where frowns and rules An alien man of blood, to scourge the fools. Rome's mitred priest, before the sacred shrine The unction pours, conferring Right Divine. B 2 AGE or FRIVOLITY, Making an Emperor. Lord of the Church an infidel proclaims A bold usurper, God's Vicegerent names. The listn'ning rabble at the mummery stare ; And blush, to think what slaves and dupes they are. Thus Death, and Horror, Famine, War, and Woe, All end at last in pageantry and show. 70 From these sad scenes the Muse indignant flies, And longs at home to find a people wise. Shall Britain, 'mongst the nations first confess'd. So oft reprov'd, and yet so spar'd and bless'd ; Whose busy sons their neighbours* failings seek, Pisdain the proud and ridicule the weak ; Whose fame is justly sounded round the earth, For solid character and sterling worth. Who claim from all the world the high applause. Of firm integrity and wholesome laws. 80 Who boast among their race the ablest men To rule a senate, or to wield a pen. Whose merchants drive their commerce o'er the globe. Whose judges gird with truth a righteous robe ; Whose seamen rove unrivall'd o'er the main ; Whose, soldiers fearless meet the dread campaign. Whose pulpits oft the eloquence resound Of morals pure, and doctrines most profound. Whose Monarch reigns to Monarchy's true end. To kings a pattern, and his peoples' friend. 90 AGB OP PHIVOLITT. "5 Puerile Enienainment. Shall Britain's sons disgrace their fathers' fame, And shrink to pigmies with a giant name ? Alas ! the times display the fearful signs That mark a nation when her worth declines. Come, dauntless Truth, report thy just survey: Bring forth thy balance, men and things, to weigh. The honest heart that dares thy standard trust Shall find thee candid, tho' thou wilt be just. Amusement, business, and religion, form The objects men pursue with ardour warm. 100 And first attention, let Amusement claim, Man's first pursuit, and last, and general aim. See crowds on crowds impatient press along A phalanx close, an elbow'd struggling throng. What monstrous wonder draws a wond'ring age ? A hoy shall strut and fume upon the stage, A little master ranting through a scene. To shew us, what an author does not mean ; What Shakespeare did not write, who Nature drew ; How Garrick did not act, who Nature knew. 1 10 Preposterous form the mimic art destroys. Kings are not babes, nor heroes little boys. Such gross absurdities the plot betray, And drive illusion like a dream away. E'en Fiction must be probable-, to please ; for what is likely, we believe with ease-. S3 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. Early Destruction. But things impossible, when gravely told, Will make us chuckle till our sides we hold : And Tragedy so oddly out of place Becomes broad Farce, and grins with solemn face.. Poor child ! soft Pity trembles at thy doom, So early blasted with'ring in thy bloom.* Thy budding talents, foster'd with due care, Had made thee on Life's scenes an actor rare. Had in some useful station nobly shone, And in thy country's glory form'd thine own. ^ But thou, alas ! art sacrific'd too soon. To live perhaps to die, a stage buffoon. Thy strength must languish, and thy heart must throb To give amusement to an idle mob. 130 'Thus sickly children loath the wholesome meal, But unripe fruit with eager longings steal. Creep to some corner from a parent's sight. And munch sour gooseberries with sweet delight. ' The above was written when he was driven from the stage , hy illness, supposed to have been occasioned by excessive ex- ertion. The following statement will illustrate the frivolooi taste of the tiiqes : it is said that Master Betty has made a new engagement at Drury-Laue, by which he is to receive 100 gui- neas a night for^very night of his performance this seasort, and for fifty nights of the next he is to recfcive 5000 guineas, with a free beaefit, which it is engaged shall produce 12001. urtj|pean Mag. March, 1 805. AGE OF FRIVOLITY. Vitiated Taste in Music. Nor thus alone is Taste deprav'd exprest-i " Music has charms to sooth the savage breast,'* So sung the poet, and so Nature sings, But ah ! Refinement looks for better things. Something revers'd the maxim now appears. And savage sounds must sooth our fashion'd ears. Not such as Handel wrote, or would be sung Where the chaste ear directs the flippant tongue. Hush Brayman sings a most delicious howl,* Then shrieks a cadence like a screaming owl. Signora squalls, and thrills like frighten'd geese, Or creaking wheels, that cry for want of grease. Oh mercy on our ears ! 'tis finer far Than e'en the Indians' piercing whoop of war. The tortur'd crowds surpris'd with frightful sound, Much wonder where such melody was found j 150 Admire and praise the agonizing strain, But never wish to feel the like again. So may you hear on some fine summer's day, / An amorous ass his tender sonnet bray. Loud, and more loud the jumping notes rebound. Till the hills echo groan for groan around. Then in gradation ends the hideous squall. Low and more low, a dying, dying fall. * This is not iuteuded to depreciate the natural or acquired talents of any individual, but as a general ridicule of affecta- tion and extravagance. 3 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. Extravaganzas. Thus while the voice offensive skill betrays, As through harsh semi-tones, ad lib, it strays ;* l60 Our instruments th' impatient ear regales With fighting battles or narrative tales. Hear tutor'd miss her well conn'd task engage. The last new puzzling whimsy of the rage, Where Base and Tenor, ill-consorted pair, Confound each other with a different air. Nimbly her fingers sweep the keys along, A wild sonata, or unmeaning song : The flats and sharps, the discords and the shakes. Prove what your head can bear before it aches. 1 70 Tis wondrous clever oh, 'tis vastly fine Not for the soothing strain, the touch divine, That move the cords which twine about the heart : No but for all the dissonance of art. Tho' difficult to play, and sure to tire, Yet we must praise what amateurs admire. Thus seeking keenly labour to beguile. The duU-ear'd sawyer plies his grating file. The twanging blade the suffering ear assails With notes as sweet as when a gossip rails ; ] 80 It is said that Handel, being present when a performer made an excursion of the kind alluded to, made him a pro- foand bow on hia return, saying, " You're welcome home again, lir." '' AGE OF TRIVOLITY. The Ball and Masquerade. Yet he scrapes on, nor heeds the din a straw, That sets your teeth an edge, and sharps his saw. See yonder beaux, so delicately gay ; And yonder belles, so deck'd in thin array Ah ! rather see not, what a modest pride Would teach a maiden's decency to hide ; The dress so flimsy, the exposure such 'Twould almost make a very wanton blush. E'en married dames, forgetting what is due To sacred ties, give half-clad charms to view. ipo What calls them forth to brave the daring glance ? The public ball the midnight wanton dance. There, many a blooming nymph by fashion led, Has felt her health, her peace, her honour fled ; Truss'd her fine form to strange fantastic shapes. To be admir'd and twirl'd about by apes : Or, mingling in the motley masquerade, Found Innocence by vizor'd Vice betray 'd. Oh ! Fashion, to thy wiles thy vot'ries owe 200 Unnumber'd pangs of sharp domestic woe. What broken tradesmen and abandon'd wives Curse thy delusions through their wretched lives! What pale-fac'd spinsters vent on thee their rage, And youths decrepid, ere they come of age ! What parents mourn a spendthrift's endless cost! What orphans grieve a father's portion lost ! 10 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. Fashionable Illness. These are your mimics, oh, ye fallen great; Thus your example poisons all the state ! So to some river's head, on sultry day An herd of filthy swine betake their way.* 210 First slake their thirst, then rolling in the mud, Cool their rough hides and sully all tlie flood : Swift down the tainted stream the nuisance flows, And spreads pollution wheresoe'er it goes. Sweet summer smiles, and on its balmy wings Delightful health, and rich abundance brings; AU feel its influence hope and joy distil. Save Pleasure's train and they, poor things, are ill. They have the megrims, vapors, or the spleen, They are so nervous, grow so pale, and lean ; 220 They have a sort of something, somehow got, Have so much sufier'd from they know not what, That they must haste to catch the sea-side air, Just when and where such invalids repair. There, Pleasure waits, tJieir doctor and their nurse, To Jill their time up, and to drain their purse. Now all alert, most rapidly they mend. Ere mirth grows stale while money lasts to spend ; * This allusion applies only to the fallen great, whose cxtra- agaace and dissipation corrupt the vulgar. AGE OF FRIVOLITY. H ^" III* . I ^ , Trip to Margate. Who will, may view with meditative eye, Fair Nature's scenes, of ocean, earth, and sky. 230 These day-light things may please the vulgar sight| The theatre gives nobler scenes at night. Who will may gaze at stars, or break his nap To see the sun arise from Ocean's lap. They would themselves be gaz^d at, and design More brilliant at th' assembly-room to shine. Who will may hear the lark's sweet morning's song, The nightly concert draws and charms the throng : Let sober cits and people of no notey According to their cloth cut out their coat, 240 'Twould give these folk of spirit vast oflfence, And spoil their mirth, to talk about expense; How things go on at home, who minds the trade, How bills run up, or what are left unpaid. Thus many a jaunt to others' loss is found To end, in two good shillings in the pound. Are there no palliatives ? O yes, we boast Of charities, a most consoling host. Hearts thus attender'd easily must melt. For all the woes by human nature felt. 250 Cast in Refinement's nicely polished mould, Brim full of sentiment as head can hold. The fine wrought feelings overflow apace, Like bubbling kettles in too hot a place. 12 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. A Cliarity Sermon. Print but the cause, let Bounty purchase fame, And large donations silence Sorrow's claim. The Doctor preaches much how doing good Should clothe the naked, give the hungry food, Instruct the ignorant, reclaim the vile, And shiv'ring Misery brighten to a smile. 260 How Charity the prize of Virtue wins, And covers, like a cloak, a heap of sins ; How one poor mite; if but devoutly giVn, Shall please our Maker aye, and merit Heav'n ; Yet he may preach alone, unless the news An anthem advertise to fill the pews.* The playhouse lends her minstrels, and the throng Smile at Messiah's griefs in graceless song. Then, at the door th' obtrusive plate receives The jingling coin the crowd reluctant gives. 270 Now view another scene, the Tavern, where, The costly ticket tempts to dainty fare. Dishes close rang'd exhale a grateful fume, And all is plenty, saving elbow room. Few have good tasle to relish things divine, But all have stomachs, and know how to dine. The intelligent reader will perceive that tliis descriptioo doei not belong to that class of clergymen called evangelicaU AGE OF FRIVOLITY. 1$ aope Charitable Feaslinj. No niggard reck'nings damp th' expensive meal, Though each one's cost shall from the pockets steals Wliat might some poor man's vacant board have spread, One happy week with something more than bread ! The table clear'd, the frequent glass goes round. And joke, and song, and merriment abound. Now ere good-humor fails, or plenty palls> For new subscriptions Pity timely calls. Forth come the guineas, while the chair pfoclaittis A growing list of charitable names. 'Tis well they com, the cause is not the worse, Whatever motive draws upon the purse. From feasts and sermons one plain fact remains, That men have bowels if they have not brains. 290 Yet, 'midst onr luxury, be it understood Some traits remain of rugged hardihood : See yonder crowd assembled in the field, With looks ferocious, and with hearts well steel'd j What boisterous shouts, what blasphemies obscene, What eager movements, urg'd with threat'ning mien, Present the spectacle of human kind, Devoid of feeling, destitute of mind ; With ev'ry dreadful passion rous'd to flame, Aud sense of justice lost, and 8en.e of shame. 300 c 14 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. Bull-baiting. What mighty project centering in the place, Attracts the village rabble, vile and base, Drains frona the plough, the flail, the shop, the stall, The idle and the drunken, one and all ; What, but the pleasure, cruelly to treat A noble beast, the sire of milk and meat ! Bound, by the treach'rous cowards to the stake. His goaded sides with indignation shake : The strong mouth'd dogs let loose (of fiercest sort Train'd by their masters to the barb'rous sport,) 310 Around the tramell'd bull they teasing ply, Provoke his rage, and watch his vengeful eye. Yet oft his sinewy neck and pointed horn Throws high his puny enemies in scorn : Thence sprawling on the ground they mangled lie, Or dash'd to pieces, in an instant die. Gall'd by his bonds, and worried out, at length, The fruitless toil exhausts his mighty strength ; Beset with numbers, friendless and forlorn, His nostril pinion'd, and his dewlap torn. 320 He sinks, confounded, groaning deep and loud. While shouts of hellish joy inspire the crowd. Then the stout butcher smites the killing blow, The last sad scene of this degrading show : Unless with cruelty refin'd, a season short They spare him, for another day of sport. 3 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. '^S Cruel Diversion. These are exploits design'd to keep alive Our rustic mirth, and make the country thrive.* -' Sanction'd by Law, these dastard scenes shall breed An barden'd race, prepar'd for daring deed. 330 'Tis granted, such amusements may impart A love of cruelty, a,Jiinty heart ; May make men hate their work, and join the roar, Of drunken squabblers at the alehouse door. The army and the navy hence may draw Large levies of tough boobies, rough and raw ; These may stand shooting at, tho' fitter far For mutiny and plunder, than for war. They may be marshall'd, but with whip and goad, As stubborn asses trudge a sandy road. 340 Thus the wild Indians doom to dreadful fate, The captive, helpless victim of their hate ; By each ingenious art of torment try To add fresh horrors ere the suflf'rer die. The scalpless scull, the visage ghastly grim, The mangled body, and the writhing limb, The madness of despair, the dying groan. Give mirth, to savage monsters only known. * Tt would be a pity should the friends of morality ever fo> get a very brilliant speech, designed to vindicate this amuse- ment, and prevent a stop being put to it by authority. C2 l6 AE OF FRIVOLITT. Denradalion. i'. " " .... , '.TW^IBaH.g. The warrior thus to blood trains up his boy, While girls and women dance around with joy. 350 Where sterling worth is wanting, empty pride Is oft to coarse brutality allied. A people wanton, frivolous and vain, Will soon to rugged nature sink again ; Retain perhaps their titles and their boast, Tho' modest Virtue long gave up the ghost. Thus Rome's descendants their oW sires disgrace^ A fiddling, an assassinating race ; Can sing an Opera tune, and in a breath, With sly stiletto, do tbe work of deatk. 360 We blame these crimes, and justly call the acts Base murder, shudd'ring at the horrid facts ; Yet we have ways to make a brother bleed. And call it fair and honorable deed ! And art thou. Honor, ever to be found. Within a friend's or foe's expiring wound ? Tis vile imposture ; Cawardict and Shame Assume thy sl^ape, and murder iu thy name. Some breach of manners, some unthought oifeuee. Which might provoke a smile to common sense^ 370 Will work these waspish gentry to such rage. As blood or death alone can e'er assuage ! Oh \ ye who value life, who feel an awe For him who stamped on Nature its fiuvt law AGE OF FRIVOLITY. if The Duelist. Of self-regard then bade our love embrace Our kindred neighbor all the human race. Ye who would cherish Peace, or bear within A tranquil mind, and sleep in a whole skin ; Who would not ere they fade, Life's prospects mar, Or rush unbidden to Jehovah's bar : 380 Who would not thither send another's ghost, To curse you for a life untimely lost ! Beware the man Oh ! never call him friend. Who bears his honor on his rapier's end. , Such furies should like madmen be confin'd, Or snappish curs chain'd up from all mankind ; Or Europe might these testy spirits haste To challenge tigers on some desert waste ; There might their prowess do the world some good, By slaught'ring their own likeness beasts of blood. lie is no proper man to wear a sword. Who rages like a demon, at a word ; lie is no gentleman, who can not bear A wise rebuke, but he must war declare; lie, no philosopher, who can not cool His passion when insulted by a fool; He is no wise man, who would throw away A life, in some ridiculous affray ; He is no Christian, who can not forgive A fellow-worra, nor let th' offender live ; 400 c 3 18 ACtt or TRltOLItt. Fashionable Honor. He, no good subject, who would madly break The laws of God and man for vengeance sake ! He, no good husband brother parent friend^ Who rashly all relationship would end ; Who Life's endearing ties would all divide To please his anger, or support his pride. He is no hero who can not sustain The world's contempt, and scorn that world again. Frail is that honor, little worth our care, That withers at the touch of blighting air ; 410 Weak is that man, oppress'd with basest fear, Who kills or dies lest Custom's slaves should sneer.* Tho' swordsmen on pre-eminence insist, " Rise, honest !Muse," and sing the men of fist: These, in their way, have talents, and may claim A lower nitch beneath the dome of Shame ; These have no swords, nor other arms they bear, Than those which ev'ry shoulder ought to wear. These have no doubtful courage to support. Nor own the laws of Honor's touchy court : 420 Captain M'Namara, and Colonel Montgomcrjf's two dogs happening to quarrel, tlicir masters fought a duel on the occa- ion, when Colonel Montgomery was slain the death of Lord Camclford in a quarrel with his friend and the unhnppy slaughter of General Hamilton in America, are woful casf in point ou this subject. AGE OP FRIVQUTt. S9 Pugilism. These have no quarrel, but about the prize, And feel no dread, but of the next assize ; Yet they can combat with ferocious strife. And beat an eye out, or thump out a life ; Can bang the ribs in, or bruise out the brains, And die^ like noble blockheads, for their pains. Behold the ring, how strange the group appears Of dirty blackguards, commoners, and peers; Vile Jews, who heed not Moses nor his laws, And scoundrel Christians, scandals on the cause j The Muse alike the filthy work disclaims To tell the heroes' or their patrons' names. What eager bets, what oaths at ev'ry breathy Who firat shall shrink, or first be beat to death. Thick fall the blows, and oft the boxers fall. While hideous shouts for fresh exertions call ; Till bruis'd and blinded, batter'd sore, and maim'd, One gives up, vanquisb'd, and the other lam'd. Say men of wealth, say what applause is due* I'or scenes like these, when patronis'd by you; 440 These are your scholars, who, in humbler way, But with less malice, at destruction play : Yop, like game-cocks, strike Death with polish'd steel, They, dunghill-bred, use only Nature's heel ; * The newspapers saj that a nobleman paid the debts of one of these pugilists to the amount of 3(X)1. that be mt^ht b Tclcased from Newgate to fight a prize-battle ! %C 20 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. Cruelty to Horses. They fight for something, you for nothing fight; They box for love, but you destroy in spite! Now to the race-ground let us bend our course. And view the suff' rings of the noble horse ; His mighty pow'rs in various ways conduce. To man's convenience, pleasure, health, and use ; Patient he bears, or draws the pond'rous load. Or swiftly skims along the distant road ; A load, that thrice our strength might tug in vain, A distance, our two legs too late might gain ; He meekly leads the share through stitTen'd clay, Or proudly braves the sword in War's array ! Bears Pomp and State above the vulgar throng, And drags at ease dull Indolence along. He yields submission to his puny lord. Content with food and rest a cheap reward, 460 Yet man ungratefully too oft repays His faithful servant, in his wither'd days ; Forestals his youth, and witii insatiate rage Works out his prime to premature old age ;* Crops his long ears to please a cruel whim, And nicks his flowing tail to make it trim ; * Alluding to a inetliod practised by some or the Yorksliire horse-dealers, of drawing their colts' teeth, in order to sell a colt of three years age for one of five years, by which tbeit strength is worn out before they come to maturity. AG OF FRIVqUTT. fl u. I I ' ' < == A Horse Race. Bruises his bones for undesign'd mistake, Or lacerates his flesh for pasgion's sake ; Wagers his strength spurs on the panting steed To dreadful distance, or unnat'ral speed. 470 His foaming nostrils, and his sides of gore, The steaming dews that burst from ev'ry pore ; His trembling limbs and heaving chest declare, How great his injuries and tortures are 1 Say, what the cause, a racewhere blockhead* meet To pride themselves, because their horse is fleets Where gambling jockies practice vile deceit. And bully e'en the simpletons they cheat ; Where sharpers flock to make thecals a prey. And many a purse is conjur'd clean away ; 480 Where Folly's children crowd to be amus'd. By seeing nobler animals abus'd ! Yes, and fine ladies too, can grace the scene, Or turn to jockies, flitting o'er the green : A lady and in public ride a race, Ah ! where was female modesty and grace ? With grooms contending which shall win the plate. And mighty stakes depending on her fate ! Thus we can laugh, and make God's creatures groan And in their degradation work our own ! 490 So, buxom wenches, at a country wake With nimble feet push on, the prize to take i 22 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. Society. While grinning loobies round the linen wait, To urge their flight and mock their aukward gait. jVIan loves society, nor could alone Be happy, seated on an envied throne. E'en mighty monarchs must at times unbend, And sink the dull superior in the friend. The jaded scholar his lov'd closet quits To chat with folks below, and save his wits ; 500 Peeps at the world awhile with curious look, Then flies again with pleasure to his book. The tradesman hastes away from Care's rude gripe. To meet the neighboring club, and smoke his pipe. All this is well, in decent bounds restrain'd. No health is injur'd, and no mind is pain'd. Yet oft society brings on excess, That ends in gluttony, and drunkenness ; Strengthen'd by numbers, men those freedoms take> Which each alone would shun for conscience' sake. One bad example leads the rest along Like sheep, who after a bell-wether throng : Hence rose that pest of morals. Virtue's bane, The drinking-club, tlie bacchanalian train ! Heav'n gave the vine, and bade its shoots distil ' Rich nectar, the thick cluster'd grapes to fill : Twas kindly meant to cheer the drooping heart. Or strength reoew'd, to languid limbs impart; AGE OF FRIVOLITY. 23 Intemperance. The pains or griefs of suffering life t' assuage, Or pour fresh vigor through the veins of age. 520 Intemperance these benefits destroys, Remorseless poisons the pure spring of joys Draws from the gen'rous vine disorder base, The bloated body or empurpled face ; Intoxication's stupid vacant grin, Or madness foaming from the fire within : Or loathsome sickness, weak'ning all the frame, Or drowning dropsy, or the fev'rish flame ; Or early age, that saps the vig'rous prime, Or sudden death, that snaps the thread of time ! 530 The firmest strength this wretched vice devours, The purest, happiest intellect deflow'rs ; The clearest judgment with thick mist surrounds, The keenest reason smothers and confounds ; The gentlest mind to rudest crimes ensnares. And ruins the most prosperous affairs. Oh ! strange ambition, infamous renown, Whose throat capacious most can guzzle down ; Who last can sit, and keep the drunken roar, When all his comrades wallow on the floor. 540 Such was thy fame, great Bibo, many a year. Till thou wast poor, and old red port was dear ; Then, at the parish workhouse, something loth. Thy drink was gruel, and thin mutton-broth ; 14 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. A week thy carcase the poor bev'rage tried, But lik'd it not and sadly sober died ! Behold yon group fast fix'd at break of day, Whose haggard looks a sleepless night betray ; With stern attention, silent and profound. The mystic table closely they surround : 55 Their eager eyes with eager motions join. As men who meditate some vast design ; Sure tliese are statesmen met for public good, For some among them boast of noble blood ; Or, are they traitors holding close debate, On desp'rate means to overthrow the state : For there are men among them, whose domains, And goods and chatties lie within their brains. No these are students of the blackest art, That can corrupt the morals or the heart ! 560 Yet are they oft in Fashion's ranks preferr'd, And men of honor if you take their word ; But they can plunder, pillage, and devour More than poor robbirs at the midnight hour \ Lay deeper schemes to manage lucky hits. Than artful swindlers, living by their wits ; Like cunning fowlers spread th' alluring snare, And glory when they pluck a pigeon bare. These are our gamesters, who have basely made The cards and dice their study and their trade. 570 AGE OP FRIVOLITY. 2S The Gamester. How many a youth these harpies have undone, "Who swift from hence the " Road to Ruin" run 1 Here many a fool hath fickle fortune sought, And all his injur'd race to begg'ry brought ! Among the ideot pranks of wealth's abuse, None seems so monstrous, nor has less excuse, Than that, which throws an heritage away Upon the lawless chance of desp'rate play; Nor is there, among knaves, a wretch more base Than him who steals it with a smiling face, 580 Who makes diversion to destruction tend, And thrives upon the ruin of a friend ! Behold yon frantic wretch old Muckworm's heir, He foams with rage then sinks to black despair. At one advent' rous cast he lost the whole, And curses Fortune, gambling, and his soul ; He rushes forth, while Conscience stings severe. And, with a pistol ends his mad career ; The plundering crew with jokes his fate deplore, Divide his spoils, then lay fresh snares for more. 5^0 Thus grandsires labor then begin to save, Then fathers follow, heaping to the grave ; Then come the grandsons, better fed than taught; Too rich for labor, and too proud for thought ;- Profusely losing all their sires had won. Just ending where their ancestors begun. D 26 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. Card-party. The love of Play can taint the female mind, By Nature form'd most gentle, most refin'd ; Can change the spirit, once an angel blight, To fiend-like fury, black as Imps at night ; 600 Can make them selfish, cruel, and profane- Peevish with loss, and covetous with gain; Can chase away domestic peaceful joys With crowds, confusion, rioting and noise ; Can draw by placid smiles a giddy train. To learn that routs and cards are not in vain ; But manag'd well, can ladies' smiles repay, By taking money in a gented way. See yonder sober set, they only mean To keep themselves awake, and chase the spleen ; These reckon gambling an atrocious crime, And play for trifles just to kill the time; Time, that with others flies so swift away, AVith them must flag, and creep with dull delay. Poor wither'd Age, to second childhood brought, That cannot read, and is averse to thought: Amus'd with baubles, may forget the gout, And dribble Life's last dregs thus foully out. Still Pity views the scene with tearful eye, Lamenting, thus men live, and thus they die ! 620 But blooming youth, or vig'rous years employ 'd At silly cards, is time indeed destroy'd. AGE OF FUIVOLITY. S7 Book making. Hour after hour condemn'd to such a fate. Is so much blotted from Life's scanty date, Which busy Mem'ry reckons up at last, Shrinks at their ghosts, and mourns the murder'd past ! So, patient near some purling river's side The angler sits, till dewy evening-tide : His day dos'd out some mighty sport he feigns. And carries home two minnows for his pains. 630 But balls and cards not all our thoughts engage; Ours is a studious literary age ; Ours is a land of books, and we exceed In happy numbers who make shift to read. Our learned authors have the world supplied With all they knew and something more beside ; All Fancy's stores have rummag'd, cull'd, and sack'd, And stretch'd invention till it almost crack'd ; Yet our discoveries have been but few Of things important, or of subjects new, 64(5 Save now and then, when some great genius shone Bright as the sun, with lustre all its own. Of old, book-making was a mighty charge ; They aim'd at folios, weighty, thick, and large ; Firm as the pyramids of ages past. And destin'd, ages yet to come, to last. d2 28 AGE OF FRIVOLITT, Circulating Library. Ours are productions of a lighter sort, Spruce pocket-volumes, little, thin, and short, With here and there a fragment of old wit Re-modell'd, vamish'd, cut and squar'd to fit. 650 So shepherds build their huts on Egypt's plains With clay, and sculptur'd scraps of mould'ring-fanes. Yet we can boast of arts they never knew, Fine woven paper ting'd with cream-like hue ; Broad margins rich engravings scanty lines, With handsome portraits, vignettes and designs ; Thus is the eye amus'd attention caught. And what is best of all, not plagu'd with tliought. We boast the freedom of the British press, And those alone who dread it, wish it less. 660 Alas ! this fount of knowledge often teams With filthy waters, or empoison'd streams ; Survey the lib''ray catalogue, how long Tlie list of titles, twice ten thousand strong. What trash, what worse than trash the pages hold ! What tales impure, improbable, are told ! What ghostly scenes that childish fear inspires. Or scenes of love, that fan unhallow'd fires ! Nature and Truth, through this false medium shown, Become distorted, shapeless, and unknown ; 670 Like some poor carcase broken on the wheel : We shudder at the sight the outrage feel. AGE OF FRIVOLITY. QQ Novel reading. INIorality, not squeamish now, nor nice, Here sports and smiles, and jokes with merry vice ; Austere, as some grave judge in solemn wig, With sorry rascals capering a jig. Such is the food of gross and sickly kind, Prepar'd for youths* large appetite of mind. The op'ning soul, where Fancy strongl}/ acts. Prefers romance to plain and sober facts. 680 Imagination takes a lawless range, And feasts on faries, ghosts, and monsters strange, Rash, mad adventures, and hair-breadth escapes, And virtue sufF'ring in a thousand shapes ; These fill the mind with marvellous disease, Beyond what common life can cure, or please : Thus poignant sauces soon corrupt the blood, And give disrelish for plain wholesome food. The polish'd libertine, the dashing blade, The fashion'd spinster, and the wanton jade, 69O So seeming fair, the flattering page pourtrays. As steals from heedless youth unguarded praise; Presents a model whence the senses err, And stamps for life a worthless character. The giddy youth the prudent maxims dreads. And mild rebukes of pitying hoary heads; Throws off with scorn a parent's anxious charge, And roves an idle prodigal at large. d3 30 AGE OP yRIVOtlTT. The Seat of Happiness. Men pant for happiness, but miss their mark Like those who grope through deserts in the dark. Ah ! who shall thither guide our wand'ring feet, When learned sophists yet dispute its seat : It is, say they, some certain state unknown, To which the nervous system is most prone ; That somewhere dwells within the human frame, Where joy or grief, or passions much inflame.* Some place it in the Lead bow Reason reigns Producing solid judgment in the brains ; Some think the heart the precious gem infolds, Where ardor glows, and Love its empire holds. 710 Some hold the stomach can best proofs display. Where many a good thing enters every day ; Or, in the central diaphragm, 'tis fixt ; The thorax and the abdomen betwixt j Or else the bag, we pericardium call, Like well-wove cabbage-net contains it all. * HappiiH.ss is defined by Mr. Paley as a certain state of tlie uervous system, in that part of the human frame in which we feel joy or grief, passions and affections. Wliether this be the heart, as most languages express it, or the diaphragm as BuffoD, or the upper orifice of the stomach, as Van Helmont thought or rather a kind of net-work lining the whole region of the pericardium, as others imagine, is as yet undetermined. AGE OF FRIVOLITT; 3^ The Source of Happiness. Tlien, what excites this feeling from without Is still a matter of perplexing doubt : Some seek it in soft Pleasure's flow'ry scenes, And some in busy Life's most active means. 720 Some grasp at Wealth, and hope to find it there ; Some say it dwells with Little, void of care ; Some seek it on Ambition's stormy height, And some in Solitude's sequester'd flight; Some think it rests with Indolence and Ease, Whilst some to seek it cross tempestuous seas. So round find round the dog surveys his bed, To find the softest place to lay his head ; Then, having many a useless circle ran, He squats him down just where he first began ! 730 Man's errors are not to himself confin'd, A croud of imitators press behind. Let giddy Fashion lead a devious way. And millions yield their reason, and obey. Thus numbers 'midst a pestilential sky First catch the taint, then give it, and then die. Wide and more wide doth black contagion spread, Till half a province mingles with the dead : Then comes Repentance, Caution, and Reform, And prays for shelter from the dreadful storm. 7 10 Ileav'n hears, and lays the vengeful rod aside. That cur'd their folly and subdu'd their pride. 32 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. Rational Amusements. There are amusements from this dross refin'd, That recreate the body and the mind ; That may to manly health and vigor tend, And help the care-worn spirit to unbend ; "Which a philosopher might entertain, And even pious christians not disdain : Which all may innocently, freely find. And quit, nor feel a sting remain behind. 750 From such the man refresh'd, retunis again To toil or study, and forgets the pain. These the Muse blames not, but delights to share, For they are pure and rational, and fair j But such as from Depravity arise She meant to r'alli/, and would fain chastise. Old Egypt, Tyre, and Greece, and Rome, have felt How Lux'ry's flames can public virtues melt. First private worth gives way, and feebly falls, Then bold Corruption saps the city walls. 7^0 Thus nations rise, grow ricli, grow proud and vab, Then sink to want and ignorance again, ^lay England, timely warn'd, the ruin shun, Preserve her rank, nor be by fools undone. END OF PAIIT I. CONTENTS OF PART II. Page INVOCATION 35 Wet Docks and dry Tunnel ... 36 Human Aclivity 37 Statenianship ' . 38 Public Spirit 39 Patriotism 4(> The Candidate 41 An Election 42 Loan-Jobbers 43 Slave-trade 44 National Punishments .... 4.5 Military Pageantry 4(> Useful Inventions 47 Nostrums . 48 Quackery 4y Patent Lumber ."JO Wiggery 51 JVIen out of their Places .... 52 Females oppressed 53 Pashionable Education .... 54 Academy for Dancing .... 53 The Captious Critic .56 The Natural Philosopher .... 57 The Virtuoso 58 TheChymist 59 The Tourist 60 Alterations 61 The Cottage 62 Large Farms ........ 63 Fat Cuttle 64 The Lottery ....*... 65 National Happiness 66 THE AGE OF FRIVOLITY, PART II. occupation: 1 WHO have wandered long the devious way, Where men of Pleasure for amusement stray ; And striv'n to paint in colours warm, but true, The living manners as they rose to view, Have now return'd, like truant boy, to ask Your worships* pardon, and resume my task. I sing not now the Joy* of trifling kind. Or cruel deeds that mark a little mind : That work perform'd another theme requires The Muse to sing, and other thoughts inspires. 10 The schemes that man's inventive fancy warms ; Or little works his busy hand performs. O Plutus ! God of Gold, thine aid impart ; Teach me to catch the money-catching art ; Or sly !Mercurius, pilfering God of old, Thy lesser mysteries, at least unfold. 36 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. Docks and Tunnel. Some noble projects, -plans of vast design, Where Wealth, and Art, and Industry combine, Adorn our country, and enrich our isles With public benefits, and splendid piles. 20 These, like the ruins of remotest time, In mouldering greatness awfully sublime. May shew our sons at some far distant day We aim'd at something great in our decay. Our wise forefathers knew the worth of land, And bank'd the Thames out with laborious hand ; From fresh encroachments bound its restless tide Within a spacious channel, deep and wide. With equal pains revers'd, their grandsons make On the same spot, a little inland lake ; 30 Where sheep had us'd to brouse and cattle fed, The wond'ring waters new dominion spread ; Where rows of houses rose through many a street, Now, rows of ships present a City Fleet. Nay, we had made, had Nature not refus'd, Had Father Thames not begg'd to be excus'd, A pretty Tunnel underneath his bed. And left him running grumbling over-head ; Had scratch'd a track out, like a grubbing mole, Through a long dark, and damp, and dirty hole: 40 Like rats in sew'rs had floundered through the mud, Instead of sailing, duck-like o'er the flood ; AGE OP FRIVOLITY. 8f I !" '.r' r- ..., ' _ Human Activity. But bubbling springs choak'd up the project rfeep, Aod trickling waters on our folly weep. These mighty works demand tlie lofty lay Of some great poet of some future day. Our bumble muse content with lower aim, Preserves her shot for small, yet pleasant game. Man is a busy animal, his head Or hands must labour for his daily bread, 50 Perpetual motion circles through his veins, And endless projects occupy his brains ; Or else in indolence lie melts away To peevish Discontent a restless prey. If no fit plan his days with honor fill, He must be active, though in doing ill. All nations boast some men of nobler mind ; Their scholars, heroes, benefactors kind ; And Britain has her share among the rest Of men the wisest, boldest, and the best ; $6 Yet we of knaves and fools have ample share. And eccentricities, beyond compare. Full many a life is spent, and many a purse In mighty nothings, or in something worse. TlK)ugh Peter, wicked wight, to mischief pronc^ Presum'd to spatter scandal at a throne ; The Muse, sagacious, meddles not with kings^ They are inviolable, sacred things j 38. ACE OF FRIVOLITY. A Statesman. Who can do nothing wrong, must sure do right, Our gracious sovereign wou'd not if l>e might : 70 But Ministers of State may now and then A little err, for they are only men. Our well-pois'd Constitution, Rights, and Laws, Old England's glory, and the world's applause, By small degrees to full perfection grew. Like wholesome wine, most mellow when least new ; And like good wine, may suffer by the aid Of medd'ling vintners, in the way of trade. The purest blessings folly may defile. Pervert and change to seem like something vile ; 80 Our first distiuction, and our last defence, May clip our comforts, and exhaust our pence. Great in the name a patriot father bore, Behold a youth of promise boldly soar ; Outstrip his fellows, clamb'ring height extreme, And reach to eminence almost supreme. With ^yell-wom mask and virtue's fair pretence, And all the art of sniooth-tongu'd eloquence, He talk'd of wise reform, of rights most dear, *Till half the nation thought the man sincere. SO Hail'd him the lleav'n-born Saviour of the land, And paid blind confidence to juggling hand. Ambition having rear'd her paU^e- walls Seeds home the workmen, and the scaffold falls. AGE OF FRIVOLITY. 35 Public Spirit. Ah ! where is now each patriotic scheme ? Fled like the baseless fabric of a dream : Oh ! name ihem not, for some have dearly found Contempt and danger mingle with the sound. Poor Public Spirit physic'd, bled, and weak, May feel complaints that fear forbids to speak ; 100 As some drench'd patient keeps his sufTrings close, In dread of doctors, and the doctor's dose j Or, like the Kons men in bondage keep, ^ Growl through its den, then tamely go to sleep. Should burdens press the waggon of the state, And those who drag it murmur at its wei'jhl. Corruption round the grating axle steals, And sooths like soft'ning oil the creaking wheels, The driver smacks his whip, and shakes the rein, Till the dull cattle tug away again. 1 10 A people may not like the spur of force. And kick and caper .like a restive horse; liut statesmen, like good horsemen, have a knack Of vaulting boldly on the creatures' back ; Then, keeping firm the saddle swift as wind They skim away aiKi leave compeers behind ; Yet oft by chance thrown off, in mire they sprawt, So Wolsey tumbled, and so P may fall. With all my heart, some demagogue replies, Down with him, never, nevermore to rise^ 120 E 2 46 Aes OF FRIVOXITT. The Patriot. I love my country, for the public good Will spend my fortune, talents, and my blood. Again let ancient British courage wake. Behold your liberty, your all at stake. What endless taxes hunt you through your toils, To fatten greedy statesmen on your spoils ! I hate those pensioners, whom courts promote To take a bribe, and give a venial vote. Weil said, the rabble cry this is the nran To do the nation service, if he can. J 30 Pure, honest, independent, firm, and free. He is our choice, for freedom's sons are we. Sav'd of expence in triumph he appears To lug administration by the ears. With loud harangues the treas'ry bench, pursue, And makes knaves tremble in their very shoe?. Soon comes a proper price a worthy bait, A vacant place, to mend a small estate : Something that bids a fluent tongue be still. And quiets conscience, like an opiate pill : J40 He takes his pension, or his office fees, And leaves the mob to murmur as they please. Well fed, well hous'd, he laughs in snug retreat, And buys, for some poor borough, a fresh seat. Thus the smooth courtier, and the patriot stem, Cau each change sides, as things about them turtu AGE OP FRIVOLITY. 4t The Candidate. Like weather-cocks, that shift at every blast. All coalesce to point one way at last. Thus loyalty and liberty proclaim Alike, self-interest, the gen'ral aim. 150 So, two grave Counsellors in gown and band, With fee in pocket, and with brief in hand, Will wrangle, scold, and bother, and contend^ As if each really were his client's friend ; Then meet at night at table nicely spread. Joke o'er the cause, and brothers go to bed. To serve our country must be high pretence, If we may judge of service by expense. The county wants a member, lo! around Profusion stalks, and patriots abound. l60 Not such as met of old, to humbly ask Their best good man to undertake the task, Of jogging up to town to represent The independant shire in parliament, Engaging all expenses to defray. And loss of time by wages fit repay. While he, like some long-woo'd but bashful fair, \Vitli half reluctance listens to their pray'i-. No. Now the cringing, boasting candidate iNIust freely bleed, and spend a large estate ; 17^. Must sue to be accepted, setting forth His own great talents, consequence and worth ; 3 4? AE OF FRIVOLITT* An Elettiom >fust blacken his opponent, and traduce His honest fame by infamous abuse : Must flatter dirty mobs, and basely try Long lists of votes, like droves of pigs to boy. In greasy hats the tawdry ribbons glare. And blue or orange partizans declare ; Huge tables groan with monstrous piles of meat, That men may freely vote, who freely eat ; 1 80 Large butts of beer like ebbing rivers shrink. That men may boldly poll, who largely drink. Fierce mobs contending knock each other down, To keep up liberty or church and crown ; Old friends and families in scorn divide. Each hating each in independent pride: As if their idol bore upon his back The world like Atlas, as a pedlar's pack. Close round the hustings press a voteless croud Insulting those who vote, with clamor loud ; J 90 Tumult and riot, hustle friends and foes, Laugh law to scorn, and pluck tame order's nose ; And years must pa^s while wisdom jileads in vain^ Ere rancour dies, and friendship smiles again. So, when the winds tempestuous, cease to sweep The mountain surface of the angry deep. By slow degrees the heaving waves decrease, Then sleep at l^tst ia calm and gentle peace. AOB OF PRirOllTT.. 435 Loan-jobbers. Britain is nobly serv'd, a varied host Have help'd her much, or much they plainly boast. Some with their heads have mighty matters jo/aw/jW, And some have wrought superioryea^* of hand ; Some with their heels her honors high advance. So Richer skips the rope, and Byrne can dance; Some with their lifs have florid speeches made, And said about it all that can be said. But men of money, these are men indeed Who help her out when she is most in need ; Good, gen'rous souls ; the premier wants a loan To aid the nation's projects or hie own, 21-0 A large round sura, that at some future day Another load of taxes must repay. Forth steps each heavy purse-man, like a friend Contending who the first, and most shall lend : Like connoisseurs sharp struggling to prevail In buying pictures up, at Christie's sale. Sure this is vastly gen'rous aye, but loans Are pretty pickings of a nation's bones. Blest paper-credit, thou with wond'rous ease Canst conjure up what sums thy masters please ; Canst pay vast debts, without one farthing paid. And make large premiums from a promise made. Here we grow rich from nothing : mark again. How we can barter life, and trade on pairu 44 AGE OF FRTVOLITT. The Slave-trade. England is free, and may she never bear A single slave to breathe her native air. But is it just, or niercifuJ, or wise To bind on others, chains, ourselves despise ? Abroad like plundering vagabonds to roam, And work that mischief not endur'd at home. 230 Justice requires that men from acts refrain They would not from another take again ; Nor is hgefi'rouSy whea a nation great O'erwhelms the feeble with oppressive weight, With proud advantage triumphs o'er the weak, And robs the poor, or tramples on the meek. Nor is it policy to dig the graves Of public virtues, by the bands of slaves. JSlen sink, where petty tyrannies prevaiJ, To lower rank than brutes, in Nature's scale. G-tOfJ* Black infamy alike degrades and stains ' The base oppressor, and the wretch in chains. O Wilberforce, thy eloquence hath try'd, Almost in vain, to rouse a nation's pride. To raise up mercy, grov'ling in the dust, And make Old England claim the name of just ! Sweet is humanity, all own it good. But sweeter far is sugar, press'd with blood ! Strong arguments may strike self-mt'rest dumb> But stronger^ stilly U Old Jamaica Rum : Q5$- ^ AGE OF FRIVOLITY. 4f National Punishments. White is the robe of innocence, most fair, But whiter still the cottons ladies wear ! Perish our Commerce ! a bold statesman crieSf. So that our laws are safe, and honours rise : And this shall perish, when true worth takes place^. Our nation's foulest blot, our worst disgrace ! Heav'n marks our vices with offended eyes, And lifts its rod to humble, or chastise; Fierce blow his winds, and lo, contending waves Plunge ships and wealth, and men to wat'ry graves.* He speaks, and pestilence at silent night, Steals to the couch, and breathes a mortal blight. Destruction walks abroad, and smites his prey Unseen, uncheck'd, amidst the blaze of day.f He gives permission, and two guilty lands Each other hate, and scourge with vengeful hands: Then war bursts out, like Etna's gulf profound,, And hurls destruction swift on all around ! This waste of earnings bringing in its rear. Such poverty, as makes e'en victory dear. 270 This sink of population, swallowing fast The country's lab'rers in its vortex vast ; Alluding to the loss of the Abergavenny East-India man, and others. + The pestilence, which destroyed so many persons at G.U braltar, and so kmg defied tbe power of ncdicbe. 46 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. Military Pageantry. Corrupter of those manners, pure and plain, To habits idle, wanton, and profane : This curse of nations, butchering their prime Of youth and strength, by thousands at a time ! This is to some diversion some a trade, A legal plunder or a gay parade. War, in our own defence, when fight we must. Is from necessity, both wise and just. 289 When nothing can appease a ranc'rous foe, ^Tis "wise to parry the Assassin*s blow. When life, or dearer liberty's at stake. To guard those blessings, j'/M^/y arms we take. Hence Britons muster ere the foe appears, And honest citizens turn volunteers. When plundering legions mark our peaceful honw, Precaution takes the field before they come. But gaudy dress and decorations gay, The tinsel trappings of a vain array, 29CX The spruce-trimm'd jacket, and the waving plume. The powdered head emitting soft perfume ; These may make fops, but never can impart The soldier's hardy frame, or daring heart ; May, in Hyde-Park, present a splendid train, But are not weapons for a dread campaign : ^iay please the fair, who like a tawdry beau, But iifc'cr were form'd to check an active foe.^ AOE OF FRIVOLITY, 47 * ' " ' . Useful Inventiuns. In some sham-Jight, may manfully hold out, Bnt must not hope an emmy to rout. 300 Time may at length these little foibles mend. And make them vet'rans ere the contest end ; May realize these soldier-playing scenes, And prove that courage their prompt ardor wean^c Yet Britain hopes her sons may never need In her defence, on their own shores to bleed. England is great in arts as well as arms. Invention, daily gaping wonder charms. Projects on projects like the Alps arise, And fill the world with prodigies or lies. 310 A thousand heads grown grey in airy schemes Amuse an happy age with golden dreams. No rival skill the nothings dare invade, G uarded and honour'd by a patent's aid. Ingenious artists, who have form'd a plan, Or work of gen'ral benefit to man, Such the machine, whose num'rous wheels entwine The cotton thread, or slender silken line. Whose complicated movement cheaply spares An host of labourers for other cares. 320 Or that vast engine working pond'rous beam, "With strength resistless, by the light-wing'd steam ; Or that whose motion more minute and fleet, "Weaves the warm stocking, firm, and soft, and neat; 4S AG-E Of FRIVOLITY. .' ' ' ' ' " iiii' ^ Patents Nostrums. Or that wiich measures time with index true, Pocket memorial how our minutes flew. Works that like these a nation's honour raise, Deserve its patronage, reward, and praise. When Greathead's life-boat braves the boist'rous seas. Or Jenner's Vaccination checks disease, 33f No base deception gilds a public cheat. The plans are god-like, the success complete. One guards our infant-race from dreadful taint, Or renders innocent its worst complaint : And one the shipwreck'd seaman, tempest-tost, Bears safe from death, when hope itself is lost. But little trifles that impostors start. And seize attention by the puffing art , "Who, by sheer bare-fac'd Impudence, contrive On pilfer'd poor credulity to live : 340 These move at once our laughter and our rage, And mark the manners of a grov'ling age. A thousand ills doth su ' ' ' Pattnt Lumber. Who would be sick, or die, when wealth procures An host of doctors, and a world of cures ? Or who, to gratify his greedy heirs, Would let his tott'ring carcase want repairs ? Creative art, decrepid age supplies. With bloom, and hair, and teeth, and sparkling eyes, Bids youthful seeming, long its loss survive, And deck smart belles and beaus of sixty-five. O, rare invention ! to thy skill we owe, Refinements, our rough fathers did not know. 380 Contrivance lumbers up our rooms, with means To save all work, but working its machines. Engines to cut our cucumbers with ease. And scoops, to hollow out a stilton cheese; A ecrew and lever, that shall gently work To draw the mighty matter of a cork ; Grates, that shall all the cook'ry arts perform, With scarcely fire enough to keep us warm ; And Rumford stoves, so costly and so neat, To stew us well, in sulphur, dust, and heat, 39O Nor to mere comforts, are our arts confin'd ; They mend our person, manners, and our mind : See the peruker's shop the splendid show, Of princes, heros, ladies, all a-row ; AGE OF FRIVOLITY. 51- Wijgery. / Of wax or plaister figures, rosy red, Proves how a wig may grace an empty head.* Heads worn with age, or furnish'd well within, Nature, who gives by halves, may deck but thin : These, may from art a covering warm acquire, That gravity may wear, and taste admire ; 400 But youthful brows that nature knew to grace. With flowing tresses, colour'd to the face. At Fashion's call to sliear those graceful locks, And turn their shaven pates to barbers* blocks. With borrow'd pride to deck a living bead From skulls perhaps now mould'i ing with the dfead, Is for a man unnatural, and itrange, But in a woman, an abhorrent change. * The following specimen of the sublime is here inserted for tlie beaciit of such as live too distant, or who ma^' come into the world too late to see the original ; " R makes' gentlemen and ladies' perukes on an en- tire new S3 stem ; which, for lightness, taste, and ease, are su- perior to any other in Europe. lie has exerted the genius and abilities of the first artists to complete his exhibition of orna- mental hair, in all its luxuriant varieties, where the elegance of nature, and convenience of art, are so blended, as at once to ri- val and ameliorate each other. Here his fair patrons may un- interruptedly examine the effects of artificial tresses, or poupees of all complexions, and in a trial on themselves blend the dif- ferent tints with their own.'- F2 5J! GE OF FRIVOLITT. Men out of their Places. Ladies, whose tasteful fancy can invent The neat trimm'd cap, their sex's ornament, 410 To look disguis'd by filthy naked wig, Like some great boy, for petticoats too big. Is passing strange, yet thus can fashion vile, Tjbe fairest brows of innocence defile! By tyrant man, of half their rights bereft. Few fit employments are for females left ! How monstrous then, that women should contrive. To starve their humbler sisterhood alive ; Despise their skill, their industry restrain. And render by contempt, their talents vain ! 420 Where are the men who ought to man our fleet, Or march on laud, a threat'ning foe to meet ? Th' athletic forms by nature pointed out For sturdy porters, or for ploughmen stout ; Whose brave thick heads a load of fish might bear. And deep base voices cry the dainty fare : Where are they ? ^justling from their proper place. Neglected female worth, and suff'ring grace ! Man-milliners, and mantua-raakers swarm. With clumsy hands to deck the female form ; 43d With brawny limbs to fit fine ladies' shapes, Or measure out their ribbons, lace, and tapes ; Ot" their rude eye the bosom's swell surveys, To cut out corsets, or to stitch their stays i AGE OF FRIVOLITY. ^ Females oppressed. Or making essences, and soft perfume. Or paint, to give the pallid cheek fresh bloom : Or with hot irons, combs, and frizzling skill, On ladies' heads, their daily task fulfil ; Or, deeply vers'd in culinary arts, Are kneading pastry, making pies and tarts : 440 Or, fclad in motly coat the footman neat Is dangling after miss with shuffling feet. Bearing in state to church her book of pray'r. Or, the light pocket she disdains to wear:* Or, in a parlor snug, the powder'd lout, The tea, and bread and butter hands about. Where are the women, whose less nervous hands Might fit these lighter tasks, that pride demands ? Some feel the scorn that poverty attends Or pine in meek dependence on their friends ; 450 Some patient ply the needle day by day, Poor half-paid sempsters, wasting life away : Some drudge in menial, dirty, ceaseless toil ; Bear market-loads, or grov'ling, weed tlie soil ! r * Mr. Holcroft, in liis account of Paris, tells us, that a young ladj of fashion was observed to have a tall fellow always foi*. lowing her wherever she went : her grandmother one day asked her, what occasion she had for that man to be always behind her ; to which she replied, " I must blow my nose, must not I^ when I want ?" this great genius was actually employed tu carry her pocket-handkerchief. ,3 54 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. Fashionable Education. Some walk abroad, a nuisance where they go, And snatch from infamy the bread of -woe ! Too much of this from education springs^ That turns the youthful mind to trivial things j^- Old age, without it, still remains a child A garden choak'd with weeds or desert wild. 46o But education gives, when pointed wrong Habits and errors weakness strangely strong. The mind, thus cultur'd, seems a gay parterre, Where gaudy flow'rs and pois'nous slirubs appear ! To form the person now, is all the care To polish well the surface of the fair ; ^ * But wisdom's laws, and sacred truths that tend The head to furnish, or the heart to mend } Or humbler duties, balm of social life, That stamp the future blest domestic wile ; 47 These, their high spirits deem of small concern, Too mean to practise, and too base to learn. To teach the mind to think is needlessxost. Oft poorly paid, and sometimes labour lost : To lisp bad French, and massacre a tune, r e rare accomplishments, above all boon. One vast acquirement dignifies the rest. Good-breeding's brightest proof, and surest test ; Which she who wants, tho' lovely, good, and wise, Is an unfinisli'd fool, in fashion's eyes. 480 2 AQT. OF FRIVOLITY, 55 Academy for Dancing. This last bright touch, that must all charms enhance, Is yes it is the knowing how to dance. To step with ease, to curt'sy with an air. And catch with dignity the vulgar stare j To trail behind a peacock's gaudy train. And stretch the nuck owt, like a flying crane ; To toss the bead that costly gems adorn, As garnish'd horses nod their plumes in scorn ; To shake the feet, and taper legs display, Like frisking kittens, romping wild at play ; 49O To flutter 'midst admiring crowds all night, And sleep all day oh ! this is dear dehght. How must a favor'd world indebted be To those great geniuses of tweedle-dee, Who condescend to teach this art sublime, In private, to gay folks, just past their primt ; ^Vho make the catgut squeak some jocund air. To movements awkward as a dancing bear ; Who shew grown gentlemen, to bow and scrape. And walk erect, and figure into shape ; 500 Who help fine ladyships their toes to place. And bend their knees, and sink and rise with grace ; To spread with elegance their petticoats,* And glide majestic to the quav'ring notes. * It has been suggested that this is a mistake, as it is not the fashioa for ladies at present to wear them. 5$ ACE OF FRIVOLITY. Tiie capuous Cri;ic. These are poor deeds for men, grave Criio cries, And shakes his sapient head with upturn'd eyes. A member of the hterary tribe, He feels the dignity of learned pride ; But learned pride can trifle, much the same As ignorance, beneath another name. 5 1 Behold sage Plod-pate, hid in snug retreat, ^ The most exalted garret in the street ; ' - '" Where festoon'd cobwebs dangle o'er his head, And firm stump bed-posts elevate his bed ; His bed, that doubly serves his weight to bear; By night his pallet, and by day his chair. With spectacles on nose, and cap on crown. That still is velvet, and that once was brown; With tatter'd night-gown round his shoulders flung. And slip-shod shoes by stockings overhung ; 520 There, like a cat, in dirty hole he sits To scare young witlings, and snap up poor wits. About him books are spread of ev'ry sort, From pond'rous folios, down to pamphlets short : On these he patient pores, with all his might, At early mom, and oft till middle night. He seeks not beauties, but with prying eyes Detects a blemish, as a precious prize; He knows an hundred parallels to quote Where different men on the same subject wrote, 530 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. 57 The Natural Philosopher. And proves the wond'rous fact, the rogues to shame, That, on the same things they wrote things the same.* He shews the world (kind soul) their great mistake In prizing authors, for their merits* sake : lie finds defective what the gen'ral taste Had felt instructive, beautiful, and chaste; Can learned skill on little specks display, And comment half an author meant away ; Can shew us fifty ways of being teaz'd, And prove how seldom critics can be pleas'd.f 540 Aye, this is trifling, Philosoph exclaims, Mere sifting words, or settling empty names; Far nobler fruit from our employment springs; We study beings, substances, and things. Behold the restless tribe in ev'ry part They torture nature by the rules of art. Some sever worms, to see how they can thrive On mutilation two whole halves alive ; * See the curious collection of parallel thoughts and ex- pressions in passages collected from various authors, which have appeared in the works of critics and in the magaziues ; in some of which scarcely a distant resemblance can be traced. + This has no allusion to just and candid criticism, but to such captiousness as condemned the poems of Cowper on their first appearance ; and as lately remarked (not in the Moatblj Review) " some persons think Mr. Hayley a poet." SS AGE OF FRIVOLITY. The Virtuoso. Or boil a lot of snails, that curious men Way know how snails bear scalding now and then ; Or put the eyes of bats out, just to try How neatly, blinded, bats contrive to flv; Or living frogs dissect, to prove how much Their nerves may tremble at galvanic touch ; Or pare a fish, to satisfy a whim How fish, without their fins or bladders, swim : Or, from a dog, some vital organ steal, To see them live, or languish by piece-meal !* Some spend a life in classing grubs, or try, New methods to impale a butterfly : 560 Or bottled up in spirits, keep with care A croud of reptiles, hideously rare ! While others search the mould'ring wrecks of time,* And drag their stores from dust, and rust, and slime, ^^ Coins eat with canker, medals half defac'd. And broken tablets, never to be trac'd ; Worm-eaten trinkets, thrown away of old. And broken pipkins, form'd in antique mould ; * However absurd or cruel such experiments may seem, to the humane, or unphilosophical reader, there is not nn instance mentioned in the above lines, but what actually has been tried, and the results minutely related in philosophicaJ transactions, ' ' orju periodical worlib of information. AGE OF FRIVOLITY. 59 The ChymisL ^luge limbless statues busts of heads forgot, And paintings, representing none knows what. 570 Strange legends, that to monstrous fables lead, And manuscripts that nobody can read. The shapeless forms, from savage hands that sprung* And fragments of rude art, when art was young. This precious lumber labell'd, shelv'd, and cas'd. And with the title of Museum grac'd Shews how a man may time and fortune waste, And die, a mummied connoisseur of taste! Not so, old Limbeck, he with patient skill, Hangs o'er his furnace, regulates his still.* 580 Pie makes or mends, combines, contrives, prepares, . All sorts of atmospheres, all kind of airs ; ^Vith cruel names he suffocates our breath, Oxygenates, pklogisticates to death ! Condenses air to artificial rain. Then rarifies to air those drops again ; Choaks up the lungs with vapours thick and gfoss, Or makes them pant to catch the scanty dose : With medicated steams our room bedews. And n a sweltering bath the suflF'rer stews. 590 * People who are fond of good air, and have no objection to understand what it is made of, have been very prettily pnzzied by the long disputes between the late Dr. Priestly aud the French chemist, M, Lavomer. AGE OF FRIVOLITY. *"*~^ , * The Tourist. As some poor mouse, beneath the air-pumps play In vacuum gasps, and longs to get away ; Half-stifled, we the lab'ratory fly, To breathe pure air, beneath an open sky. Tis sweet to catch the incense-breathing morn, And range through wood and dale, o'er hill and lawn. So say our tourists, rambling wide to trace Near home discoveries pest'ring ev'ry place. Equipp'd with knapsacks, trudging here and there, Like pedlars, posting to a country fair ; 600 Or perch'd on coach-roof, view the novel scene, How upland* rise, and vallies lie between ; Or down some river's stream meand'ring glide, And find that there is land on either side : Who see old castles where they long have stood, And feast on ruins antiquarian food : Perceive that Scotland to the northward lies, And that in Wales huge barren mountains rise : That Ireland is an island, where abound Bogs, hogs, and dogs, and fogs, the whole year round : That poor folk there, for want of bread and meat. With buttermilk their boil'd potatoes eat. These things made out, a pompous book must show. What much it must concern the world to know ; How fartheywalk'd where halted din'd and slept; What inns good meat good wine good lodgings kept; AGE OF FRIVOLITY. 6l What dangers, what fatigues they underwent, And wore their shoes out -and their money spent. Wherever round this restless world we range, Nothing seems constant, saving constant change. 620 Like some magician waving mystic wand, Improvement metamorphoses the land ; Grubs up, pulls down, then plants and builds anew, Till scenes once lov'd, are banished from our view. The venerable elms, whose boughs had made From winds a shelter, and from heat a shade ; That form'd a vista, arch'd with living green, Thro' which the distant Seat was grandly seen; Where cawing rooks were wont their nests to throng, And feather'd minstrels thrill'd their morning song; Where Contemplation silent, soft, and slow, Pac'd o'er the downy moss, that spread below. These all have fled like painted scenes away ; And all lies open to the glare of day : 624> In naked pride the mansion stands alone, Scorch'd by the sun, and by the tempest blown ! The draughtsman, with officious eye surveys What capabilities a scite displays,* * A capacious gentleman, who has vast ca|):icity in disco- vering wliat alterations a place is capable of, has bceu honored with the title of Capability. B. G . 6i AGE OF FRIVOLITY. The Cottage. How things may be made better for the uorse. And much improve at least the schemer's purse. No paths direct for modern taste will serve, The line of beauty always makes a curve : Hence we must patient wander round about A zig-zag track, to find the dwelling out ; Lost in a clump, or tangled in a maze, The nightly visitant bewilder'd strays; Frets half an hour away in useless haste, To traverse fifty yards of puzzling waste. 648 The pond, that flow'd refreshing o'er its brim, Where while- rob'd swans in pomp were wont to swim; Where sportive fish would dart tlieir liquid way, And glance from silvery sides the solar ray, Huge loads of rubbish must on sudden till, And bury it beneath a dirty hill. The road-side cottage, with its garden neat. The peasant's castle, industry's retreat : That gave the humble hind the chearmg claim. To ** local habitation and a name ;" Where grew his boys and girls, an hardy race, Who grateful toil'd?. and blest their native place ; Where ev'ry year 'the fatted hog was fclain. And broods of chickens throve on gleaned grain; Improv'raent sweeps away a nuisance great That clogs with poverty, my lord's ebtatc. 664 1 AGE OF FRITOLITT. 65 Large Farms. The little farms, that spangled o'er the lands With hospitable roofs, and lab'ring hands, Diffusing population far and wide, With sweet content, that scom'd the frown of pride , Whose flocks and fields, and bams, and dairies gave Those rich, yet cheap supplies the markets crave ; Which made not plenteous crops a mould'ring store, Nor held God's bounty from his starving poor. These, each succeeding each, now swell the bounds Of huge monopolists of neighboring grounds. So greedy Ahab coveted to gain Poor Naboth's vineyard, bordering his domain; Mark'd out the Jezreelite for royal prey, And snatch'd his heritage and life away ! The air, the light, the water, and the earth, Appear man's common right, his claim by birlh; 680 Hence he who holds the soil, but holds in trust A stewards/lip demanding usage just; Is bound by nature, by its Author bound To till and fructify the fallow ground ; To share those gifts he could not raise alone. And in tlie gen'ral good promote his own. Who holds fat farms should something fat produce, Some palliation of high wealth's abuse;* * " Who drives fat oxen should hiuiseil' be fut." JOBSaON, g2 64 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. Behold they come, like Pharaoh's well-fed kine ! Huge oxen, monstrous sheep, and bloated swine ; 6^0 They come, dragg'd on in proud unwieldy state, For their own legs, but half sustain their weight; Like tallow hogsheads stow'd within a cart, They ride to win the prize at Smith field mart. Improvement mends the stock, the skin, the fleece But stands pre-eminent in clods of grease. Behold, ye poor, who oft with longing eye. Survey those joints, ye wish in vain to buy; Behold, display'd in greasy pomp around, Those giant-limbs at half-a-crown a pound ; 700 The shambles spread a tantalizing treat That few can purchase, and still fewer eat. Ye men of candles, ye whose works give light And artificial day to gloomy night ; These are your spoils, for you the monsters grew. Were cramm'd,and cook'd,and melted down for you ; The christmas-roast like oozing blubber ran, To fill your tributary dripping-pan. Amid our follies one wish reigns supreme, The thirst for riches, sudden, and extreme ; 710 Hence doubly favor'd, golden schemes appear, To kindle public av'rice twice a year ; The Lott'ry throws abroad its splendid bait. To tempt the world to try the wheels of fate. AOE of FRIVOLITY. 65 The Lottery. Thus gambling, like infection, spreads around ; All hope to catch the twenty thousand pound : Hence those who want a guinea, think it wise To risk that guinea, for so great a prize ! Part with their clothes, their bed, their very food, To gain a chance of some uncertain good; 720 Then comes a blank and with it comes distress, Poor blasted hope, and shiv'ring wretchedness ! Here too, the useless sums the wealthy lose. Bids them, her boon, to charity refuse. In vain, may mercy plead, or mis'ry cry ; For how can people give, who tickets buy. In vain the wise and cautious stand aloof, The crazy populace are wisdom-proof. No matter, so the minister can raise Fresh sums how morals sink or worth decays. 730 Fatigu'd at length, the Muse resigns the chase, In search of nobler themes her song to grace ; Leaves yet a thousand fooleries in view, For bolder bards to smite, with aim more true. Oh, that some British Juvenal might rise. Keen as the ancient bard, yet chastly wise ! Whose stroke might wound the loftiest vice of pride. And make those shrink, who dread no lash beside ! Or, sportive, raise on follj/'s cheek a blush, Beneath the law, or pulpits' sober touch. 740 G3 66 AGE OF FRTVOLITT. National Happiness. Or strip from base hypocrisy the mask, When modest, candid truth, declines the task ; Or bring oppression's iron heart to feel, And make corruption be asham'd to steal ; That shall the dormant public mind awake, Indignantly, delusion's bands to break : Then may Religion's voice be understood, That nations to be happy, must be good.' END OF FART II. CONTENTS OF PJRT Til. Page True Religion 70 The Infidel 7J Worldly Wisdom 72 The Apostles 73 The Simonist and Pluralist .... 7% The Lazy and Polite Divines ... 75 The Pedant 'iS The Sectaries 77 The young Preacher 78 Novelties 79 The Bigot 80 Fanaticism 81 Diotrephes 82 Discord 83 Allegorizing 84 Loud and low Preachers .... 85 The worldly Professor 86 The talkative Professor 87 The fashionable Professor .... 88 The Enthusiast 89 The Formalist 90 The sour Professor 91 The supple Professor 92 Indifference 93 The Fast-Day 94 Abounding Vices 95 The good Curate 96 The Nonconformist 97 The true Christian 98, 99 THE AGE OF FRIVOLITY. PART III. RELIGION. As when some cautious gen'ral leads along His raw recruits, to meet the hostile throng ; Or ere the grand attack, in skirmish light He tries their skill, and trains them to the fight. So has the Muse b^en skirmishing awhile, O'er bog and hill, thro' ditch, and dark defile ; Sought Pleasure's light arm'd troops to overtake, And Occupation's heavy ranks to break. An harder toil remains to be perform'd : The citadel must be attack'd, and storm'd. 10 Religion, sacred gift ! by Heav'n design'd Man's first distinction, noblest proof of mind ; The erring spirit's surest guide and stay, Through life's uncertain, dreary, trackless way : Sweet consolation of the suff *rers' woe, And source of purest joys, that mortals know; 70 AGE or FRIVOLITY. True Religion. That gives the raging conscience peaceful calm, And sooths the broken heart with healing balm ! That solves the doubts the anxious spirit feels, And endless life to dying man reveals ! 20 That makes his duty to his neighbour known. And that pure worship God receives alone ; Sure evidence of things beyond our sight ; Eternal Justice, and the World of Light ! Most simple, yet mysterious deep, yet clear, Combining chearful hope with humble fear ; Awful and holy, firm as Heav'n's decree, Yet lowly, lovely, gen'rous, kind, and free ! This sacred gift, with grace and wisdom fraught, Is made a plaything a mere thing of nought ! 30 A nose of wax, that any fool, with ease, May twist and model as his whim shall please ! Frivolity, officious, vain, and bold. Defiles the ark, like Uzzah's touch, of old ; Things most divine, pollutes with base conceit, As flies corrupt and taint the purest meat ! Oh ! for a prophet's zeal, a seraph's light, To trace' these foes and put their hosts to flight ! Spirit of Truth, thine humble suppliant aid, Nor let the verse the lofty theme degrade ! 40 First in the ranks, the Infidel appears. To scout religion with his jokes and sneers; AGE OF FRIVOLITT. 7l The Infidel. Fix'd ill the scorner's chair, be proudly sits, The prince of madmen, and the god of wits ; His stubborn ignorance disdains to bend To truths, or facts, he cannot comprehend : Hence in proportion as his light is small, He has but little faith, or none at all ! Thus Paine the bible treats with jests profane. Because the bible suits not Thomas Paine. 50 With these presumptuous blockheads close allied. Are vain Philosophy and sceptic Pride: Of reason vast, and high intelligence, They madly boast, while wanting common sense. Eternal Truth their impious creed denies, But swells with gross absurdities and lies ; How matter floating in unbounded space, In endless atoms held eternal chase ; 'Till by mere accident together bound This Earth was lurm'd, and all the planets round j 60 To lucky life, each class of creatures rose. With ev'ry herb and flow'r, and tree that grows : And this blmd Chance with most consummate skill. Preserves all Nature's wheels from standing still ! How can, say they, a Being, good or wise, Have made a world his creatures must despise ? Where mis'ry in each dreadful form appears, Pursuing mortals through a vale of tears! 72 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. Worldly Wslcin. Where suff' ring Virtue uselessly complains, While mischief triumphs, and disorder reigns ; 70 Where nipping frosts destroy the infant bloom, And beasts of blood the harmless tribes consume !* Hence him they deem the wisest, happiest man, Who grasps what wealth, and tastes what joys he can I No matter what the means, the end but clear ; Virtue has nought to hope, nor vice to fear. Religious penalties, they reckon tools For priests to work with, on the minds of fools; While Revelation's sacred themes they treat As rank delusion a mere pious cheat ! 80 So might some little nauseous insect crawl Where Raphael's figures decorate the wall ; Whose tiny head might catch a tint or line, But ne'er could comprehend the whole design : Then, o'er his inch of prospect proudly strain, And deem the whole a rough unshapen stain ; View tlie bold strokes, and mingled colours near, And wonder what sad chance made such a smear! These open foes religious Truth defies ; At once can pity, vanquit-h, and despise ! po It is not intended even to hint at the various absurd s;ys- tems and notions of philosophy, falsely so callid, but Iroin one hypothesis long held and argued by learned men, to shew the fallacy ot human wisdom without revclaiiou. AGE or FRIVOLITY. 75 J'he A postles. But there are secret enemies, who bear A Ireach'rous heart, beneath a cov'ring fair ! Who, conscious of deceit, the cause betray, Or self-deceiv'd, go heedlessly astray. These to Religion cling with vile embrace, Usurp its credit, but reflect disgrace : Like an huge fungus on some fruitful tree, Loathsome to smell, oflensive there to see. God sends to erring Man his holy word, But not in thunders, such as Sinai heard ; 100 Nor speaks the joyful sound by seraphs pure, They feel not man's disease, nor need his cure : But men of passions like our own employs, Who share our common frailties, griefs, and joys. Constrain'd by love, with holy ardour fir'd, liy truth enlighten'd, and by God inspir'd ; The first disciples spread the Saviour's name, Proclaim'd the Cross, and triumph'd o'er the shame. These were not hirelings urg'd by fees alone. To plead a cause unvalu'd, and unknown ; 1 10 Nor did they play the actors' specious part, Or truth deform with meretricious art. Plain was their speech, yet most subhme their theme, And meek their patience tried by rage extreme : Their work was doing good, and their reward Was souls renew'd and their approving Lord. u 74 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. The Simonist and Pluralist. Their holy lives the truth exemplified ; Their death its glories, when they martyrs died. Mark their successors, what a diff'rent race. Who claim their name, but want their every grace! Behold the Simonist by money's aid He makes of godliness a gainful trade j He likes Religion for its worldly use. And buys a church for what it may produce ; His parish is his farm, a life-long lease, And much he loves his flock that is their fleece. The Pluralist in labour deals at large. Adds church to church, and heaps up charge on charge ! Courageous man, who for himself prepares Such hea^7 loads, and such an host of cares ; 130 Such awful duties, such engagements vast, And euch respcmsibility at last. Wliat ardent zeal must in his bosom glow ! How must his heart with mercy's milk o'erflow ! What stores of knowledge must his head contain. Beyond the grasp of many a common brain ! Witli what deep studies, and what stretch of thought, Must his unceasing pulpit toils be wrought ! Within himself what talents must he ee To fit one parson for the work of three. 140 AGE OV FRIVOLITY. 75 The lazy and polile Divines. Thus must it be, had patrons grace or wit, And men and stations were but made to fit; But modern times shew shorter ways than these, To reach preferment, and there bask at ease. Thus Lupus plump and sleek enjoys repose, Admires the church, and all the church bestows; Devoutly heresies, and errors hates. And bars against schismatics heaven's gates. He is not Duty's drudge on sabbath days, For he by proxy j>reaches, thinks, and prays : 150 "i'et holds that all good things become a priest, Who, with three livings, should lire well at least. Hence ev'ry day luxuriously he fares, And drowns in good red-port all worldly cares. His limbs robust, no rude exertion tires. Save, when he joins the hunt with neighb'ring squires- His slumb'ring mind no knotty point pursues, Save, when contending for his tythes or dues : His useless office fills no sacred rite, Save, saying grace, when parish feasts invite. l60 See in Pomposo a polite divine More gay than grave, not half so sound as fine : The ladies' parson, proudly skill'd is he, To tend their toilette, and pour out their tea ; Foremost to lead the dance, or patient sit. And deal the cards out, or deal out small wit. b2 76 AGE or FRIVOLITT. The Pedant. Then oh ! in public what a perfect beau, So powder'd and so trimm'd for pulpit-show ; So well equipp'd to tickle ears polite, With pretty little subjects, short and trite ; 170 Well cuU'd and garbled, from the good old store Of polish'd sermons, often preached before : With precious scraps from moral Shakespear brought To fill up awkward vacancies of thought ; Or shew, how he the orator can play. Whene'er he meets with some good things to say. Or prove his taste correct, his mem'ry strong, Nor let his fifteen minutes seem too long. Behold Pedanticus, of letter'd pride, The'world's great oracle, the critic's guide ! 180 So thinks he, while alas ! the world remain* But little better'd by his skill or pains ! In vain he labours over classic ground, Ascends its heights, and dives its depth profound ; Finds out old notions long to darkness cast; The senseless jargon of blind ages past ; Revives forgotten errors, and anew, llogilds the truth, to make it seem more true. Rich with his stores the preacher mounts on high, And labours hard to prove, what none deny ; lyo Dissects his subject with a skilful hand, And much explains, what none can understand : AGE OP FRIVOLITY. I!*! 'liieSeclariC-. Shews how things said in Latin, or in Greek, Sound well enough, when smooth-tongued linguists speak. While many a text by skill scholastic bent, Gives many a meaning, which it never meant. Then what the fathers said and what denied, And what they did not say must all be tried. Long hard-mouth'd words, and sentences obscure. Amuse the rich, but much confound the poor, 200 Who patient sit like prisoners in the dark, And long to hear the more melodious clerk. Not in the church alone are triflers found, ^\'ho stand confirm' d on consecrated ground ; AVhose station rests not on a people's choice,. Nor comforts vanish at a deacon's voice : Who feel themselves sufficiently at ease To preach whate'er they like, howe'er they please. The sectaries, who seek for abler guides Than those which custom gives, or law provides, 210 Who boast a plainer worship, purer creed, From popish dross, and superstition freed : E'en these, tho' widely differing, each can find, Some mode of pious trifling to their mind, Some little arts, to aid their separate cause, To catch attention, or extort applause. h3 78 AGE or FRIVOLITY. The young Preacher. - - Forth from his nest, behold a stripling springs, Halt' fledg'd, and fluttering yet on feeble wings ; But rashly confident, and pertly vain, And proud of singing, twitters many a strain. 220 His dawning talents might by wise delay Grow into excellence some future day : But early flattery too oft destroys All modest diffidence in forward boys ; Warms twigs of genius to luxuriance wild, And spoils, like mothers fond, a darling child. See yonder chapel what a croud appears, Not by devotion drawn, but itching ears : What motive pressing like an engine strong Has squeezld together such a sweltering throng? 230 > Tis curiosity not love of trath To hear grey wisdom speak from beardless youth ! Fathers in Christ, by long experience wise, Who pitying human weakness, pride despise; Retiring, dignified restrain your tongue. No longer courted, now no longer yOung : Ye know how soon the putf of fame shall fail. And die at evening, like the summer's gale 1 How oft a senseless mob their idols crown. Bow at their feet, lb( n basely tread them down ! How soon their satiated fancy tires And other uwidcrs still more strange requires. AGE OF FRIVOLITY. 79 Thus wisely judging how to keep renown, Ere folks grow weary, Ramble quits the town: Darts through the country with a meteor's blaze, And fills his track with thunder and amaze ; Repeats old jokes, and worn out tales renews. And shakes with titt'ring worshippers the pews ; Exhibits that rare art attained by few, To make men mcrri/ and religious too. 250 So, now and then, the country parson quits His rustic flock, to preach to wealthy cits. He comes lo ! crowded churches spread his fame, And praise the Doctor's not the Saviour's name. Say what the phantom fickle minds pursue. Not truth, nor godliness but sotnething new. Through christian lands th' Athenian thirst may range For ceaseless novelty, and constant change : As fev'rish appetites that loath plain meat, Are by fresh niceties induced to eat. 2^0 More trifling still, if ought can be more vain, Is the blind bigot dragg'd in party's train : By non-essentials held in bondage fast. As the blind Indian dares not quit his cast. Religion is the same, howe'er we move ; lis laws are liberty, its spirit love : 80 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. The Bigot. One God it worships, and one faith allows ; To one obedience yields baptismal vows ; Owns one design to mend a world like this, And ends in one eternal world of bliss! 270 Tho* varying oft in form, and mode, and name, Its essence, and its substance, are the same. But Party, which exclusive right pretends, Christ's seamless garment uito fragments rends ; All add some scrap to tatters of their own. Then boast the sacred vestment, their's alone ! Like clans distinguish'd by the badge they bear, As different servants different liv'ries wear. Thus Corinth had its partizans of old, With zeal as flaming as their love was cold : 280 Some cry'd up Paul, and some ApoUos prais'd, And some for Cephas clam'rous voices rais'd ; Till on the waves of fierce contention tost, Their ark was founder'd, Christ and Truth were lost ! We prize, and justly, liberty of thought, A faith unforc'd, unfttter'd, and unbought. A British conscience feels its native right. To judge and act, according to its light ; Beneath our fig-tree, fearless joys to sit, And train our vines to grow as we think fit. 2^0 Our fathers nobly bled for freedom's sake Endur'd the prison, and defied the stake. AGE OF FRIVOLITY. 81 Fanaticism. Oh, this was glorious! yet from hence proceeds The head bewilder'd, and the heart that bleeds ! Tlieir trifling sons the sacred trust receive, Disputing much the Httle they believe. Sects rise on sects divide then subdivide, Each other scorning with true bigot pride ; Like hostile ranks for vict*ry they contend. Defaming most the doctrine tliey defend : 300 And vainly daring, blindly lead the blind, And mend, or make, the gospel to their mind j Or, claiming kindred with the faithful, stav, And Judas like, with " Master, hail," betray. As rav'nous wolves who near the pastures keep. To watch the flocks, and seize on wand'ring sheep. Still, silly sheep, from guarded pastures stray. Hush to their jaws, and fall a willing prey. ^Vhen frantic Swedenborg his dreams reveals, Or daring Southcot, barters heav'nly seals, 310 Some kindred madmen on the tales rely; Some hare-brain'd sisters the imposture buy. When crazy Brothers thought his rambling head To visions wild by inspiration led, Commenc'd a prophet told of things to come, 'I'he wrath of IJeav'n the nation's dreadful doom, And scribbled nonsense fast as fools could read- Still simpletons arose to own bis creed ! 82 AGE OF FRIVOHTT. DioUephes. Empires must fall, and conquer'd kings be chain'd, Till he sole monarch of the Jews remain'd : 320 To Judah's land, the vagrant tribes restor'd, Shall hail him their Messiah Earth's great lord. Ah ! now he reigns, where wretched maniacs dwell, And none dispute his title to his cell.* Less innocent, but more mischievous far, Diotrephes maintains fierce wordy war. He cannot plead insanity's excuse For heart-deep rancor, unprovok'd abuse. Proud of his meanness glorying in his shame, He builds on boasted ignorance his fame. 330 Coarse as a coal-sack, rugged as a bear, Possessing impudence a ten-fold share. Devoid of meekness, modesty, or love, A serpent keen, but not an harmless dove : His venom. all around he strives to fling, And hisses vengeance where he cannot sting ; To stir up strife each little art employs. Divides the church, and tlien the church destroys ; * These melancholy instances of liuman folly would havo been bcneatli notice, only at they serve to shew to w hat lengths of absurdity and even blasphemy, ignorant persons may be carried when they resign thcuuelves to the guidance of fanati< cistn, AGE OF FRIVOLITY. 83 Builds up his Babel on his neighbours' grounds, And smiles malignant at the peace he wounds ; 340 Thrives on confusion, and from discord reaps Plot-headed partizans and golden heaps. Thus Cornish wreckmen lure a ship to shore, Secure their plunder and look out for more. Yet wonder not at feeble men he rails, Who sacred things presumptuously assails. Distorts Religion into forms uncouth, And dares to trifle with eternal Truth ! Though hating with a Vandal's rage profane. That lib'ral learning he could never gain : 350 Though yet a stranger to his native tongue, A very blockhead, learned men among, He fain among the ignorant would shine An able critic, and a deep divine. The sacred text in simple beauty penn'd, That he who runs may read and comprehend, He tortures into notions wild and new. Things only guess'd at by the favour'd few.* * The following just remarks are made by the Rev. Richard Lloyd ill his Christian Theology. " Tliere are some who seem to affix no boundaries to their wild imaginations. Every minute circumstance of the Jewish ritual overflows with evangelical instruction, and is the found a< tioa of some most important doctrine. The plain history i* S4 AOE OP FRIVOLITY. Allegorizing. Thus hist'ries plain, from allegories strange, And metaphors, to facts and doctrines change. 560 Thick on his hearers' heads the wonders pour Of mystic meanings never found before. The puzzled crowds admire to find a text They thought so easy, curiously perplext ; Resign their understandings, following fast A will-o'-wisp, to some deep quag at last. If he does well, who humbly strives to show What scripture means, and man concerns to know. What skill superior must that man display, Who makes it speak the things it does not say ! 370 turned into allegory; the very geography of the Old Testament teems with spiritual allusions : the common sayings and actions of the patriarchs arc refin'd into mysteries ; and to the general expressions of scripture they annex a deep and recondite mean- ing ; and this occult and mysterious sense is often not only dif- ferent from, but even opposite to the obvious and literal sense of the words. Tims the christian religion is too of tcnburlesqued. Instead of being clothed with venerable simplicity, and speak- ing the " words of truth and soberness," it is mutilated and de- formed, and called in only to sanction the reveries of a sickly and distempered imagination ; it is no longer a sure and cer. tain light to guide the benighted traveller through the dark mazes of human life, but an j^iii faUtut, an airy phantom, floating at tiie mercy of the winds, without any dclermiuat* and or direction. ACE OF FUIVOLITY. 83 Loud and low Preachers. ' I. . I I __^ Bold Boist'rous takes an energetic course, Devoid of skill, his fame depends on force. His leathern lungs and throat he well employi To make in this dull world a mighty noise ; His pow'rful sermons, void of sense or form. Burst like a whirlwind in a bellowing storm. Hell and damnation from his lips rebound, To scars poor sinners with the joyful sound ! He scorns soft arts, nor squeamish critic dreads, But beats it fairly through bis hearers' heads. 380 The senseless crowd the loud confusion feel, ^listake the uproar, and misname it zeal ; Work'd up to frenzy, think themselves devout, Because much terrified, and much in doubt. Good Doctor Lumpish shudders while he hears The din that shocks his nerves and splits bis ears. No glowing zeal e'er warm'd his frozen breast, No emulation ever broke his rest ; No flights of fancy lead his soul astray, From Custom's common track and hackney'd way. As cold as ice, and ponderous as lead, His pulpit-cushion forms his drowsy bed ; Nor chearful smile is suffer'd to displace His grim solemnity of solid face. With nose bespectacled, and head incas'd In bushy wig, by no trim curls disgrac'd, X J6 age of FRlVOLlTr. The worldly Professor. Beneath his ample chia a stiff-starch'd band. Firm as a statue, see his Rev'rence stand ; His sennon dribbling out, with drawling tone, . Like water, oozing thro' a dripping-stone, 400 Till with the dull monotony opprest One half his audience doze away to rest : Still like a mill-horse, he pursues his round Of doctrine deep, and orthodoxy sound. Yet, tho' he splits his subjects to an hair, Few comprehend him, and still fewer care. As are the priests, so are the people founds An heterogenious mass, a vile compound. A mixture that no title can express, A strange no character of nothingness. 410 So like the world, that world may well suppose ReUgion and itself, no longer foes j As proud, as gay, extravagant and vain, Tho' not as yet so openly profane. Demas was pious, humble, and sincere, And gen'rous once, with fifty pounds a-year j Could in his garret, entertain his friend, And of his little freely give, or lend. Mis heart was warm, bis head but little knew^ Yet was his faith sincere, his practice true. 42t At length, increasM in knowledge and in gold> His head is wise, but oh 1 bis heart is cold { AGE OF FRIVOLITY. 87 a . ' ' I - " =ac The taltiaiive Professor. t -1-1: . . , ... ^if - Still he attends the word, and keeps his pew, Gives God the sabbath, and pays man his due ; Is sober, careful, temperate, and grave, And every thing besides that tends to save. Firm to retain, and eager to receive, But much abhors to lend, and more to give ; Contemns the poor, and thinks that he who craves Must class with blockheads, or be rank'd witU knaves. 430 Assists no church, and pays no parson's fee, Because the gospel should be cheap and free. lie bears no fruit, nor can enjoyment taste, Lives but to hoard, and only hoards to waste : Religion's stumbling-block, and Reason's scorn. Friendless he lives, and dies a wfetcli forlorn! Gabble can talk, can argue and dispute. And oft confound whom he can ne'er confute. He through his string of sentiments proceeds. As monks, who measur'd piety by beads. 440^ In blind conceit more wise than sages sev'n A self-made privy-counsellor of Heav'n. He settles arguments as tilings of course. And murders mysteries without remorse. Eternal counsels, and divine decrees. He re-determines with amazing ease, I2 88 AGE OF FKIVOLITT. _ _ The fashionable Professor. Those points that learned skill in vain have tried, And grave divines presume not to decide, He cuts asunder with officious hands, Most confident, where least he understands. 450 He talks of sermons, and can scripture quote, As children read their alphabet, by rote. His whole religion, from his mem'ry sprung. Consists in words, and dwells upon his tongue; He nothing knoxvs, and nothing good ajvrds, And uoihiugficls, and nothing is, but uurds. Not so, Vanissa she, religious dame, Gives to Devotion something more than name ; Is lib'ral, candid, charitable, kind, And to her neighbours' " faults, a little blind :"4()0 Has gone to worship constant from heryouth, And treats her ministers, and loves the truth. Yet can Vanissa with the world comply, "When sabbath-day is past, nor pastor nigh ; First in the fashion, when for visits drest, As gaudy and as naked as the rest. .> She acts with casuist skill a double part, > Lives like the world, but means for God her heart; Owns all is worthless vanity below. Yet loves to taste and sec that it is so. 47(X Hence public Pleasure her attention shares * >Vith godly sermons, solemn hymns and pray'rs. AGE OF FRIVOLTTT. 89 - ' ' ' ...... The Enthusiast Giddy at routs, and gay at midnight balls, But grave within the church, or meeting-walls. Pleas'd with the theatre's unreal scenes. Yet joins Devotion's most impressive means. She proves Religion, carelessly profest. Is but a painted mask, a solemn, jest. Between these wide extremes one point is clear She is in neither settled, or sincere. 480 Good mistress Luna strokes her wrinkled face. And hates such christians, thus devoid of grace : She treats the world with scorn, and justly so, For it neglected her long time ago : Felt no attraction from her youthful charms, Nor gave one suitor to her longing arms. Grown somewhat old, and done with earthly love^ Her warm affections fly to things above j Enthusiastic, fanciful, and wild. By vacant head, and feelings keen beguil'd, 490 She, Reason's aid, and sober Faith disdains, And wings her way to visionary plains. Where vap'rous light thro' endless mazes gleams On raptures, extacies and airy dreams. Her whole religion little else contains But notions floating on disorder'd brains ; Its whole experience, whimsies undefin'd, The strange emotions of a feeble mind: 13 90 AGE or FRIVOLITYi The Formalist. Its worship, mere effusions of self-will, And all its practice ends in sitting still. 500 The humbler duties, geu'rous, meek, and kind, [ She leaves to meaner souls, who lag behind. '^ Neglects herself, her friends, the church, the poor, * To keep, from earthly taint and contact,, pure. In dress a Slattern, and in manners rude ; A self-deceiv'd, disgusting, pious prude. Old Formal on a different plan proceeds ; His trust is merit high, and righteous deeds. He to no faith witli bigot zeal is wed ; That subject never yet disturb'd his head ; 510 Nor feels he of experience any part, For his religion reaches not the heart ! Nor love to God, nor man his spirit warms, For his devotion rests on rites and forms. Constant, as Sunday comes, his church he tends, And once a quarter at the altar bends ; Wears black all Lent, and gloomy penance joins. And twice a week on fish devoutly dines ; Minds Holy Thursday, like great folks at home, And keeps Good Friday, like the priests at Rome. Reads o'er his pray'rs, and strives his creed to say, And does not grumble much his tythes to pay ; On fast-days starves his house with zeal severe. And would aot miss one saintVday thro' the year. AGE or rRlVOLITT. 91 The sour Professor. These, and such things perform 'd, his task is done; Heav'n must be satisfied, and glory won. He hears the humble penitent confess Ills inward guilt, his nature's wretchedness, And scorns'a mourner so deprav'd and mad, And thanks his God, he never was so bad. 530 He hears the honest saint his failings own, Those imperfections known to God alone, And prides himself with pharisaic bliss, That he ne'er broke the law, nor did amiss. Blunt Surly, forms and ceremonies views As things but fit for papishes and Jews. He would not e'en for Peace or Mercy's sake His least precise ungi'acious manner break ; Nor in the least conform at Custom's call In things the most indifferent and small. 540 Politeness, fashion, polish'd ease, or grace. The docile temper, and the smiling face, However pleasant, innocent or pure, Offend his sanctity of look demure. These things, lie says, are carnal cov'rings thin, Marks of the beast'without, and fiend within. With scowling brow, and angry tone, he blames The cheerful joy that beams from happier frames. His rude rebukes no neighbour's fault can spare, But stings the broken-hearted to despair. 550 p2 AGE OT fritolitt: The sapple Profetssof. Morose, severe, unsocial and unblest, Restless himself, and sufF'ring none to rest. A persecuting spirit, sharp and sour, A very Bonner, only wanting pow'r. Profuse, dogmatic, positive and dull, Still rancor flows, and still his heart is full. Woe to the man who cannot hear him out^ Or dares his schemes infallible, to doubt ^ Thick on his head anathemas descend, And awful curses, without hope, or end ! 569 His presence brings a gloom and strikes dismay, As some black cloud that dims the face of day ; Youth drops its mirth, and chatt'ring dames grovr dumbr As when Torpedo strokes the Hmbs benumb. He seems, by Satan plac'd, in grim array, Religion's scarecrow, fright'ning folks away. Not so, smooth Supple, he, good soul, is lojfj Takes any shape, and yields like melted wax. His gentle lips in sweetest accents move^ On Candour, Liberality, and Love. With him all forms and notions are the same. Deserving much of praise, wjth little blame. Each devious track,'he thinks to truth may lead ; For he; as yet, has not made up his creed. 570 AGT. OF FRIVOLITY. P3 Indifference. It matters not, he says, what men believe, U they but readily fresh light receive; Tho' blown about by eVry changing blast, By moving oft, .they may fix right, at last. As men grow taller, they enlarge their views, Shake off their prejudice and boldly chuse ; 580 And t/i(U Religion is to him the best, 'J'hat he best likes, and singles from the rest. Opinion like the air, must needs be free ; !Men cannot credit what they cannot see. As man thro* weakness endless errors makes, God will not hate us for a few mistakes. JNIysterious faith, may slaves or fools affright : " But he cannot be wrong, whose life is right." Who holds a doctrine, is pre-occupied, And shuts his eyes to every light beside : 590 But when his judgment still unclogg'd remains. Who where he can, believes, where not, refrains, His soul, like pure white paper, waits to bear Truth's own impression, copied full and fair. So Supple reasons, waits, and tries his skill ; Still unconvinc'd, and boasting candour still. But vain the boast, a vacant heart supplies, 'Tis nothing but Indifference in disguise. Thus men will trifle with their souls and God, Laugh at his word, and sport beneath his rod ! (JOO 54 JIGE OF FRIVOLITY. ' I z Ihe Fast-Day. Chastis'd by Heav'n, and plung'd in war and blood, O'erwhelm'd by folly, like a raging flood, By statesmen plunder'd and by faction tom We feel some sense of shame, some cause to mourn. Hence comes a fast-day, and a form of pray'r. To shew just Heav'n how penitent we are. Yet we can triumph while we seem to pray, And mock th' Almighty in a solemn way: Can shew our pride while humbled in the dust. Ask God for aid, yet put in man our trust I 6lO Confess our crimes, and sue to be forgiv'e. Yet boast our worthiness to angry Heav'n '. What hosts of sermons from the press proceed, That few heard preach'd, and fewer still will read. These, lash wtih gentle hand, our nation's crimes, Yet threaten with portentous signs, the times ; Tell of black clouds that spread our hemisphere, And awful judgments, that perhaps are near, fttill one great comfort mingles with the curse, Bad as we are, our neighbours are much worse. 620 Hence we shake off humility and dread, Postpone reform, and rear a wanton head : Launch out God's thunderbolts against our foes. And lull ourselves to pleasure and repose : Claim heav'n, as on our side, and in its name, Aod on our knees, the blast of war proclainu AOB OF PHlVOLtTy. 95 - -'' . Abounding Vices. ^^ The day once past, our solemn garb we quit, As gladly as men lose ai\ ague-fit. Once in a year, we own our guilt and shame, Profess amendment, then remain the same. 63Q Still the throng'd public haunts prove sorrow brief, And shew how folks make merry with their grief. Do vacant theatres of loss complain That men grown wise, from vanity refrain ? Does pamper'd Luxury forbear to waste, Because the jjoor should heav'n's good bouuty taste? Does rash Intemperance forego excess. One wretched heart with cheering wine to bless ? Does wild Extravagance withhold its hand, Because its debts-and lionesty demand ? 640 Do Pride and Pomp put off their vain display, In sober justice tradesmen's bills to pay ? Do all professors, with an heart sincere, Avoid the world, and keep a conscience clear t Alas, with goodly words our lips we fill, But prove, by practice, we are triflers still ! Yet, in the land some righteous souls are founds With minds most humble, and of morals sound* These, in the gap, like fervent Moses stand, And plead like Ab'ram for a guilty land. 650 These mourn in secret o'er a nation's pride, And turn by pray'r the vengeful stroke aside* 5 AGE or FRIVOLITY. *" ' ' ,1 The good Curate. The world contemns them, but it little knows How much to their regard and worth it owes ; How much they strive its blessings to increase, Lament its woes, and labour for its peace, Mark yonder Curate of the good old stock, The humble teacher of a village flock, lu youth he furnish'd well his studious head, With all the Greek and Latin fathers said. 660 JMade all the homilies he read his own. And felt a wish to make them better known ; Thought all the articles were strictly true, Lamenting they were thought so, by so few.* > But chiefly drew from scripture channels pure, His clearest knowledge, his best furniture. Hence he had always some good things to say, To teach his hearers twice on sabbath-day. Nor did his labours with the sabbath end, For he would cheer th6 sick, the dying tend ! 6*0. With mild rebukes the vicious seek to gain, Or sooth with gentle words the suff 'rer's pain. His wife, fit partner for a grave divine. Was fam'd for nostrums and good currant-wine : * Some of (he clergy contend that the articles are not Calf inistic, or that they arc mere articles of peace and matters of form, wliicli each may subscribe iu what seuse he pli-ases. AOE OF I^RIVOLITT. ST Tie Nonconformist. She furnish'd salves, and physic for the poor, Which were not costly, if they did not cure ; Would caudles rich for groaning mothers brew. And teach their daughters how to knit and sew. Hira, they would friend and father, justly call, For he was friend and father to thena all. 680 Their ancient sires, he piously had laid Beneath the church-yard yew-lrees' solemn shade; Their sons and daughters he in wedlock tied, And bless'd each youthful bridegroom and his bride. Their children nam'd at the baptismal pool. And gave them learning at the parish school. With equal usefulness and honest aim. See yonder pastor of degraded name ; "The Nonconformist, who, for conscience' sake. From relics of old Rome presumes to break ; 6^9 Whose useful talents love and duty bind, To serve a people of a willing mind ; A people, who, with fruitful love rejoice, Ihe faithful pastor of their gen'ral choice. Tho' diff'rent modes may diff' rent tempers suit, These are distinctions little worth dispute : None but a bigot will a brother blame, True christians are in principle the same. The independent church, or baptist view. They are alike draw but the picture true : 709 K Sl9 AGE or FRIVOLITY. The true Christian. Alike the faith and worship they profess, Alike their pastors, and their usefulness. These, are by no mean worldly motives sway'd, ' For they, tho' lab'ring much, are poorly paid. Not by ambition are they Jed to search, For lordly titles from a christian church. These seek not ease, or Pleasure's licens'd scope-^ Tliey have no downy Rectories to hope, 'i'ho' Scorn derides, and Poverty assails. The love of God, of Truth, and souls prevails ! 71 Behold the Christian, he demands respect, Whatever be his name, his mode, his sect ; He loves the God who made him thinks with awe On his perfections vast, and perfect law ; Yet with a filial confidence relies On this great Parent, holy, good, and wise. He loves the Saviour, who on Calv'ry bled, A spotless victim in the sinner's stead ; Hails him the gift, and means of endless Love, His Plea below, bis Advocate above. 720 He loves the Spirit, whose renewing grace, Illumes and sanctifies a fallen race; Supports and cheers the saint while trav'ling home. And gives sweet foretastes of the joys to come. He loves his Bible, fount of Truth divine. Whence comfort beams, and light and glories shine : 2 AGE OF FRIVOLITY. 99 = The trae Christian. Its doctrines credits, by its precepts lives. And its sure promises by faith receives. He loves the world, and o'er its follies weeps, But his own heart with jealous caution keeps : 730 In manners gentle, gen'rous, good, and kind ; Religion forms his actions, and his mind. Hence flow soft Charity, and Pity bland. That move a feeling hearty and helping hand ; He pardons freely, should a brother fail, Well knowing that himself is weak and frail. He builds no hope on merits of his own. But trusts to Mercy y boasts of Grace alone : " Eternal things his better thoughts engage; Nor will he trifle in a trifling age. THE ENB. PRINTED BY JAMES CVNOEE, Ivy-Lane. THE RAISING OF JAIRUS^ DAUGHTER; A POEM. BY FRANCIS TVRANGHAM, M, A. Sed revocare f^radum (ViRG. Ma. vi. 128.) TO WHICH IS ANNEXED A SHORT MEMOIR, INTERSPERSED WITH A FEW POETICAL PRODUCTIONS, OF THE LATE CAROLINE SYMMONS. P vidi in terra angeliri cosiiumi, E celesti hellexxe ol mondo sole, Talxhe di rimemLra.- mi giooa e dvole. '^ (Petr. I. cxxiii.) LONDON : Printed for J. Mawman, Poultry; Deighton, Cambridge; and Todd, Wolstenholme, and Wilson & Spence, York; By R. Taylor, Black-Horse-Court, Fleet-Street. 1804. TO WALTER FATVKES, ESQ, FARNLEY-HALL_, YORKSHIRE. MY DEAR FRIEND, " The Raising of Jaiuus' Daughter," the Seaton- subject for 1803, was a summons which, though as a Master of Arts I had dechned former invita- tions from the same quarter, as a Father I could not resist. I sate down, and wrote the following poem. That it was shut out by circumstances (whether properly or not, remains for others to determine) from a competition, in which it might IV DEDICATION. probably have been worsted, ought perhaps to furnish matter of rejoicing both to you and to my- self to you, as the simple fact of it's exclusion cannot possibly reflect any discredit upon its pa- tron : to me, as it would have given me pain to couple a name like yours with a defeated work ; though I had previously resolved that this attempt, such as it is, should at all events be published j and, as a slender testimony of my affectionate regard, dedicated to you. It is usual, I believe, upon these occasions to find or to create some analogy, real or supposed, between the subject of the composition and the character of it's protectour; and the principle, though un- doubtidly liable to abuse, is within certain limits highly proper : nor would it demand the diaphragm of aDEMOCRiTus, to laugh at a Treatise on Dancing DEDICATION. V inscribed to a Lord Chief Justice, an Essay on Field-Sports to a Bishop, or a Harmony of the Gospels to a Secretary at War. But where, as in the present instance, the theme is supernatural, the difficulty of detecting or of de- vising such a parallel is considerably augmented. For the sake of the omen (to borrow a hint from classic superstition) I will not institute a compa- rison between your paternal feelings, and those of Jairus ; and to refer to your almost-miraculous eloquence, as having lately roused from it's death- like torpour the loyalty of a mighty county, would be at least quaint, and perhaps in the estimation of the scrupulous critic profane. I must therefore be content to confine the analogy to one of the il- lustrations of my poem, in which I slightly men- tion the '^ existinof circumstances" of a country so VI DEDICATION. justly dear to us both. And here, if I might be permitted to exspatiate, I should easily discover am-r pie grounds of allusion : for, whether I celebrate the patriot or the agriculturist, the 'honest toil' of the farmer or the lifted ' arm of the volunteer,' I know no one whose image is more closely asso- ciated with those tru\y- British ideas than your own. I remain My dear Friend, Most faithfully yours. Francis Wbangham. Hl'NMANBT, Koveiiilrr 1803. ADVERTISEMENT. \\ iTH a view to the competition for the SEATON-prize, the following poem was delivered to Dr. Sumner, the Vice-Chancellor of Camlridge, on the 27th of the last September ; but was soon afterwards returned with an intimation that, ' according to a printed notice (distributed in tlie College- Halls, &c.) no composition could be ad- mitted, which was sent in subsequently to the 10th of July.' It may, perhaps, be a litde vexatious to me to re- flect, that this unfortunate work had been completed ever since the end of June ; and retained in my hands for tlie tliree ensuing months, solely with a view of intro- ducing into it any slight verbal alteration, which might casually occur before the 29th of September the day hitherto, I believe, uniformly (but, certainly, for a very long term of years uninterruptedly) prescribed as the limit for the reception of SEAXON-exercises. Of the new re- gulation I was entirely, and from my remote situation almost necessarily, ignorant. It was not published in the county-newspapers, which always announce the appoint- ment of the subject : and, if I had even entertained a suspicion about it, I could hardly have made it a topic of inquiry without an infringement of that secrecy which is virtually enjoined by the public notices, and usually, I should imagine, enforced by the private feelings of the candidate himself. This was represented on my behalf to the Vice-Chan- cellor (and, tluough him, to the Master of Clare-Hall) A 2 Vlll ADVERTISEMENT. by a gentleman, whose very eminent station in the Uni- versity is yet scarcely level with that, which he occupies in the ranks of poetical talent and refined taste. His sugges- tions, however, though their failure would seem to involve something like a partiality to the resident Masters of Arts, who alone can learn with certainty and with privacy the fluctuating terms of competition, were of no effect. The interv'al between the announcing of the subject in the beginning of April, and the assignment of tlie prize at the end of October, it has been customary to subdivide into six months for composition, and one for decision. That proportion is, in the present instance at least, varied ; and, while three months only were indulged to the writer, four have been reserved for the judge. Does this new arrangement exhibit more correctly the ratio between the difficulty of composing, and of comparing ? Or are the relative toils of criticism and of authorship better expressed by the old sentence, NalHTu omnes fecit judices, paucos artifices f For the few pages appended to the poem I might rather perhaps claim the gratitude, than solicit the indulgence of the reader. The workmanship is, indeed, very un- worthy of the materials ; but the diamond is necessarily enchased iu a setting of inferiour value : and I may apo- stropiiize the subject of tliem in the lines, addressed by BucH\NAK to his royal patroness : ijiKtd ab in^ejiio domitri sperare nequitantf DdeLu/U genii) forsitan ilia tuo. F. W. THE RAISING OP JAIRUS' DAUGHTER. Sed revocare gradum " ViRG. JEn. vi. 128. TUB RAISING OF JAIRUS' DAUGHTER, Death's iron slumbers chased, th' expectant tomb 'Beft of its prey, and o'er the clay-cold cheek Life's refluent lustre shooting, theme for less Than seraph's harp too high, with trembling Iiand The bard essays. Aonian mockeries, hence ! Back to your Pindus, nor let foot profane Vex the chaste ground. 'Twas yours of yore to sing. How with his lyre's soft magic Orpheus thrill'd The ear of Dis 3 and from his doleful realm. But that nor love nor pity dwelt in hell. Had borne Eurydice : the strain of truth b2 4 THE RAISING OF Claims loftier inspiration. O be thou. Blest Faith (as 'tis thy wont, 'mid scenes of fate. With heaven's own strength to nerve the sinking soul) The Christian poet's muse ; on wing of flame Buoy his faint flight, and guide him through the gloom. For lo ! where tossing on her restless couch Meagre and flush'd, the food of hectic fires. Gasps in weak conflict with the mortal fiend Capernaum's lovely daughter 3 gasps in vain, Beiieatli his withering grasp. Nor art can lure, Nor might can shake him from his destined spoil. Vainly to him sweet Innocence her palms Spreads suppliant, and entreats with many a tear Short respite from her death-pangs : Youth in vain Pleads his brief hopes, or ere they bloom, decay'd ; In sudden midnight quench'd his morning sun. His glittering day-dreams .fled ; The sigh of Love, P.nathed from the inmost soul $ pure Friendship's prayer. JAIRUS' DAUGHTER. Which fain with life would buy the life she craves ; Affection's tender prompt solicitude. Keen to explore and eager to relieve The want, just hinted by the asking glance All fruitless to arrest tlie ebbing blood. Or check the pulse with mad precipitance Fast hurrying to its goal ! But who shall tell Tlie woe Jairus feels, as fix'd he marks In her (so late his bosom's foremost pride) The quivering livid lip, its long farewell Faint whispering ; turn'd to him the dying look, *Him anxious seeking with its latest beam. And fondly lingering on the much-loved face ! Ah ! whither shall he bend his soul's sad view ? Where find repose ? The future, once so bright. When Hope and Fancy sketch'd tlie happy groups Dear to a grandsire's breast, appals him now With horrour's direst forms the shrouded corse. The bier, the black procession. Scared he slirinks. 6 HB BAtSING 6f And back through many a well-remember'd year Darts his quick eye : but O yet deeper pangs Lie ambush'd there ! Too faithful to tlie past. Officious memory throngs the living scene Witli all the father's joys ^the fond caress, Tlie heart-sprung smile, the glance intelligent. The speaking gesture, and the courted knee. Throne of the babe's delight ! In dumb despair. Dumbness to which all eloquence is mute. He hides his countenance. At j^ulis thus. When 'mid assembled Greece his knife of death Stern Calchas brandish'd o'er the victim-maid. Forth from the circling host in various guise Burst the wild passions, by inwnortal art Stamp'd on the glowing canvas i. Furious here 1 The pretended marriage with Achilles, which Ultsses sug^ gested as a lure to draw Iphigf.nia to Aidis, with tlie substitution of a stag for the royal victim, and the daring originality with which TiMANTHEs represented tlie agonies of Agamemnon, inhi picture of the sacrifice, are too well known to need any detail JAXRUS DAUGHTER. The frantic mother raved ; there piostrate sued The weeping friend j Achilles half unsheath'd His mighty blade 2, and Telamon's brave 9on Then first knew terrour. Even Ulysses felt Thrill through his icy heart the sudden throe. And wish'd uncounsell'd now his prosperous wile. Apart in majesty of grief, witli face (Beyond the painter's happiest mimicry) Wrapt in his lifted robe, Atrides stood Sadly pre-eminent ; and art was hail'd Even in defeat triumphant. But avaunt Tales of the Tauric huntress, and the hind Vicarious, and the rescued nymph ; tliough told In strains of deathless glory. Holier song Befits the Christian bard, whose golden lyre Should own no string, that sounds to aught but hea\en. 2 "exxito i' in KoXtoTo f^iyct ^<^5f- HoM. U. . 194. 8 THE BAISItfO OF Borne on that sigh, lier gentle spirit rose Buoyant through yon blue concave j and shook off (Half angel, ere it fled) its beauteous clay ^ ; To its bright home by sister-seraphs led. And by glad myriads of the sainted just Greeted with hymns of triumph. So the lark. Late in some sunless cottage-nook confined. The toy of froward youth, if chance throw wide lis prison-doors and bid the captive range Free as it's kindred choir, with strange deliglit Hears and obeys j and, soaring to the skies. Floats on light plume amid the liquid noon *. O ye, around whose knee a daughter's arms (As, tottering on, she hail'd your wish'd return) .1 Amidst the trifling discordancy of the Evangelists, wliich occurs in this place, it may be proper to state that I have followed St. Matthew. See also the annexed Memoir*. " Nare per aslatem liquidam" ViRO. Georg. iv. 59. JAIBUS DAUGHTER. Have fondly fasten'd j whose trans|)orted ear Has drunk the prattler's accents, as she lisp'd "^"our welcome back with many a profFer'd kiss. And smiles which art would emulate in \ain Weep for the lost Jairus, Ye have known What 'twas, amid die million cares and woes (Man's liapless lot below) to find at home That magic circle, o'er whose charmed round. Save by the guidance of the wizaid &tes. Nor cares nor woes intrude. O pause and think. Even in your noontide blaze of rapture think. If God his fostering beam should turn aside. What darkuess may be j-ours ! and, wliile ye kneel In grateful fervour to protecting heaven. In generous sadness for Jaieus weep. No ; o'er his agonies rejoice : rejoice. That sharpest suffering led his anxious step To life's pure source, and bade him from that fount 10 THE RAISING OP Exhaustless drmk and live. With show of hafe Thus oft kind Mercy, mask'd in anger's guise. Smites whom she loves. The mad tornado oft Sweeps on rough wing across a smiling land j And what was Eden, ere the spoiler came. Lies a waste wilderness : but thence the breeze. Which stagnant erst in sultry stillness slept. Is quicken'd into health, and genial gales Play round tlie languid temple. Borne from far, Wliere Nuhia melts beneath the burning day. Oft the broad torrent with resistless flood Whelms infant Spring ; and trembling Egypt viewi O'er his sofl bloom the wide-spread deluge close : Yet thence emerging soon the rosy boy. With lusty sinew by the billow strung, QuaflFs the rich tide and thrives at every pore. Haste then to Christ, and prostrate at his feet. With hope's bright ardour glowing in tliinc heart. JAIRUS' DAUGHTER. il Implore his sovereign aid. To tliat blest ear The good man's sorrows never rise in vain. O tell him that thy child, thy manhood^s joy, Th* expected grace and guardian of thine age. In Death's chill ^ipe has wither'd, like a flower Scathed by tlie summer-storm. But no j forbear ! He knows thy woes : thy bosom's inmost pUlse Throbs to his eye. And lo, with eager haste Zealous through thronging crowds he presses on. At thine and pity's summons ! Stay him not. Ye curious, ye diseased : And thou, whose blood Twelve tedious springs th' insatiate plague ^ has drain' d, ' Catch not his robe j though thou art wretched too. Revere a parent's anguish. Wondrous man! Even from his hem, by faith's pure finger touch' d. The healing virtue flows, nor aught delays His onward foot. And now the deafening din Of minstrel mourners marks the drear abode, s Mark v. 29. 12 THE RAISING OF Where fast the maiden slumbers j undisturb'd By wailing friends, the deep funereal dirge. And all tlae pomp of grief. And now her hand The Saviour takes 3 now from th' almighty lip Issues the irresistible decree, ** Damsel, arise." Her mortal sleep dispell'd. And life's new vigour tingling through her veins. Instant she wakes, as from a raptured dream Chased by the mom's soft whisper j and beholds. With all the daughter rushing to her eyes. Her father by her side. O what was then His gush of joy, as to his bounding heart He caught, he clasp'd her close I Not more the bliss The patriot hero feels, whose lifted arm Guards his loved Prince, while round his country's coasts Invasion's hovering harpies scream for prey : Kot more his bliss when, sheath'd the hallow'd steel (It's work of glory done, and in the dust Th' insulting foe laid low) with honest toil. JAIRUS' DAUGHTER. 13 'Mid the dear pledges of domestic love. He tills the fields his unbought valour saved. And so when, sign of universal doom, 'Midst heaven's circumference yon golden orb Shall veil his flaming forehead j and the moon. Portentous phase ! on aether's azure vest Glare a red blood-spot : while in fearfiil course Athwart or backward, whirling through the void. The lawless planets rush j and earth, convulsed. Deep to her centre shakes on Death's dull ear Again the thrilling voice shall burst j again From his gaunt grasp the shrouded victim rend. And pour through all his caves empyreal day. No single corse, as when with joy's wild throb Close to his heaving breast Jairus strain'd His rescued child ; but swarms, to equal whom Night's spangled host or Libya's world of sand Were faint comparison, to sudden life 14 THE RAISING OF Shall start amazed. With keen compunction some. Self-sentenced ere they meet their righteous Judge, ShaJl to the crashing rocks and mountains cry- To screen them from his presence. Fruitless jM-ayer ! Nor rocks nor whelming mountains can subdue The conscious bosom's anguish : deep witliin Coil'd round their life-strings lies th' immortal worm. And guaws with sharp remorse the quivering heart. Otiiers (and O may he, whose feeble hand Frames this weak verse, the chosen number swell !) Their mortal clay resign'd, in heavenly forms Shall rise, resplendent as the summer sun Even in his miU-day lustre j and with blise, O'erpajing years of bitterest agony. Hear the glad accents : " Faithful ser>'ants, come j " Receive your promised raced. Your toils were great, " And great is their reward. The God ye served, " Steadfast when passion sapp'd and scorn assail'd, " He, He is yours : for you is twined the wreatli JAIRUS* DAUGHTER. 15 " Of Eden's greenest amai*anth, and for you " Flung wide th' eternal portals. Enter in, " Your task complete, your race of duty run, *' And share the joys and glories of your Lord." APPENDIX. * Woui-D iliat these lines had been suggested solely by my Ima- pjiation ; and that the portrait of dying excellence wliich they exhibit had not been, in puqiose at least, too faithful a copy fixjm nature I I might then have been spared my present melancholy office. But whatever pain I may suffer, or perhaps for a moment in- flict, by the recital I owe it to the obligation of an invaluable friendship; to the memory of' a most uncommonly-gifted young Lady, in virhom charms and talents and virtues strove for mastery ; and (if I may subjoin so worthless a motive) to the interests of the preceding jwem, whose heroine however is but a feeble repre- sentative of the all-lovely' archetype I had in view, to seize thi* opportunity of introducing SHORT MEMOIR, INTERSPERSED WITH A FEW POETICAL PRODUCTIONS, OF THE LATE CAROLINE SYMMONS^ JjoRN on the twelfth of y/pn*/ (1789)> a day before illus- trious in the English calendar, as the anniversary of one of our most eminent naval victories^ from her infancy she discovered indications of very extraordinary powers of intellect. Of tlaese, as they existed in her seventh year, I had first an opportunity of forming an estimate : alas ! that, ere a second seven were well numbered, she should be no more ! 1 Daughter of the Rev. Charles SYMMONs.D.D.and Elizabeth his wife, sister of Captain Foley of the Navy, who so highly distin- guished himself during the last war in the battle of the Nile, and in that before Copenhagen ^ and of the late R. Foley, Esq. of Gray's Inn, one of the Magistrates of the Police; of whom an interesting memoir is given in the Monthly Magazine for October 1803, vol xvi. p. 374. C 18 MEMOIR OF THE LATE Le crespe chionie d^or puro lucente, E 'I larnpeggiar del' angelica riso, Che saleanfar in terra un paradiso, Poca polvere son, che nulla sente. (Petr. n. xxiv.) At a period of life, in which grace and beauty are sel- dom so much disclosed as to interest any eyes, except those of the relative or of the friend, she was strikingly en- dowed with both J and, if I had the pencil of a Reynolds or a HoppNER, I would endeavour to do justice to her personal charms. But these, " at their best state, are al- together vanity." Ut vultus hom'mum, ita simulacra vultus imlecilla ac mortalia sunt ; forma mentis cetema. (Tag. Agric. 46.) From a subject tlierefore, to which I feel myself unequal, I turn to the display of her mind : a la- bour indeed still more hopeless, if I did not (fortunately for myself, and for the world) possess specimens of it's energies, which will in a great measure supersede the necessity of my poor description. Zelida, the first of her poems with which I was fa- voured by her father soon after it's composition, is dated Nov. 24, 1800 J and, as the production of a child (if she could ever properly have been pronounced a child) of eleven years of age, is surely most wonderful. CAKOLINE SYMMONS. 19 ZELIDA ; AND THE FADED ROSE-BUSH, WHICH GREW NEAR HER TOMB. I gazed on the rose-bush, I heaved a sad sigh, And mine eyehd was gemm'd with a tear: Oh ! let me, I cried, by my Zelida lie; For all that I value sleeps here. Her sweetness, simplicity, virtue, and charms Could with nought but a seraph's compare : Ah ! now, since my Zelida's torn from my arms. There is nothing I love but despair. This rose-tree once flourish'd, and sweeten'd the air ; Like it's blossom, all-lovely she grew : The scent of her breath, as it's fragrance, was rare ; And her cheeks were more fresh than it's hue. She planted, she loved it, she dew'd it's gay head ; And it's bloom every rival defied. But, alas ! what was beauty or virtue soon fled : In spring they both blossom'd, and died. And now for my bosom this life has no charms; I feel all it's troubles, and care : For, since my dear Zelida's rent from my arms. There is nothing I love but despair. What may perhaps excite at least equal surprise witli tlie beauty of the stanzas themselves, is the selection of the subject ' A faded rose-bush !' What a tlieme, to be chosen by a youtliful poetess, in the full tide of health and animation ! How sweetly characteristic of her own C2 20 MEMOIR OF THE LATE blossoming, the third verse! The fourth, how mourn- fully ominous of her decay ! " It is indeed" (said a lady, whom to name would be to establish the justness of the criticism, if it's merits were more doubtful) " little less ''than miraculous; and so completely imlike any other " compositions I have ever known, that, delightful as I " think it, I should feel almost terrified at such premature " excellence excellence of every kind ; for one knows " not which most to admire, the genius which inspires, " or the taste which executes !" Prophetic forebodings ! too soon, too fully to be realized ! I must not however tear myself from this exquisite little piece without adding, on her father's authority, that like all her other works " it was in tlie strictest sense her " own, having received no improvements or heigh tenings " from the suggestions of any person whatever :" a decla- ration, in which I place the most implicit confidence, from my knowledge of both the parties concerned, nei- ther of whom could have done so much violence to their nature, as to descend for an instant to any thing like im- position or deceit. A Sonnet, addressed to her elder sister, of a still priour date {Oct. 21, 1800) I had overlooked j but it shall not !)e omitted. CAKOLINE BTMMONS. 0,1 TO FANNIA. Fannia, behold where yonder harmless bee Wantonly sports around that woodbine bower She sips the nectar'd sweets of every flower. And spends her happy time in mirthful glee. Yet some, my girl ah, how unlike to thee ! Would on this insect wreak their brutal power ; Would now, even now, disturb that industry, W^hich gilds her every short but blissful hour. But thou hast never shown that cruel will. Let those, who are in glittering coaches roll'd, The helpless insect of a morning kill. While nought they prize but luxury ajid gold : Thou wilt not such a barbarous task fulfil For thy young heart, my love, was formed of softer mould. A story in the heroic measure, entitled Laura, per- fectly well connected and arranged through an extent of more than five hundred harmonious lines, was likewise about this time produced ; when, it must be remembered, she was yet short of tlie age of Jairus' Daughter (Mark V. 42.) : but through some unfortunate 'neglect it is now, I fear, in great part at least, irrecoverably lost. The three following Sonnets, dated respectively Nov. 27, 28, and 29, 1800, were sent to me in January lyoi. 22 MEMOIR OF THE LATE ON A BLIGHTED ROSE-BUD. Scarce had thy velvet lips imbibed the dew. And nature hail'd thee infant queen of May ; Scarce saw thine opening bloom the sun's broad ray. And to the air thy tender fragrance threw : When the north-wind enamour'd of thee grew. And by his cold rude kiss thy charms decay. Now droops thine head, now fades thy blushing huej No more the queen of flowers, no longer gay. So blooms a maid, her guardian's health and joy. Her mind array'd in innocency's vest ; When suddenly, impatient to destroy. Death clasps the virgin to his iron breast. She fades ^The parent, sister, friend deplore The charms and budding virtues now no more 2 . WRITTEN IN WINTER. Aerial Flora, sister of the spring, Arise, and let thy blooming form be seen : Haste ! play thy youthful fancies on the green, And from thy hand ambrosial odours fling. Invite the sylvan choir to wake and sing. While the sun sleeps in gold upon tlie scene : To dress the grove thy clustering hare-bell bring. And chase hoar winter with- thy sprightly mien. TTien shall sweet zephyrs and prolific showers Succeed to parching winds, and beating rain ; With their soft balm re-animate the flowers. And strew gay cowslips o'er the golden plain. Then frost no more shall waste the roseate bowers; But Flora, crown'd with sweets, her sway unhurt maintain. '* These beautiful lines are to be inscribed upon her tomb. CAROLINE SYMMOfifS. 23 ON SPRING. Throned on soft clouds, his locks with hawthorn bound Twined with young rose-buds, jocund Spring appears : The little violet by his smile he cheers, And teaches primroses to bloom around. To his pleased ear the birds their carols sound, And near his feet it's head the sweet-brier rears : Nature exults to see her darling crown 'd, And all the living scene his power reveres. The hill and valley with bright verdure spread, The infant Ceres in her verdant gown. The various plants which open in the mead. And fanning gales his genial presence own : But soon the rage of summer shall succeed ; And scorch the sweets, which breathe in Spring's soft lap alone. From the prevalence of wintry dates in tlie present little collection (for they all occur in tlie interval between October and Jpril) the flowers of which it is composed seem, like those described by Cowper in his Task as *' following the nimble finger of the fair," to have blown " With most success, when all besides decay." The vein indeed of this infantine muse, like that of her own Milton (as represented by Philips) appears to have " flowed most happily from the autumnal equi- nox to tlie vernal." The following very patlietic verses 24 MEMOIR OF THE LATE were the growth of tlie same luxuriant Novemler, of 1800, THE FLOWER-GIRL'S CRY. Come buy my wood hare-bells, my cowslips come buy ! O take my carnations, and jessamines sweet : Lest their beauties should wither, their perfumes should die. All snatch'd like myself from their native retreat. O ye, who in pleasure and luxury live, Whose bosoms would sink beneath half my sad woes ; Ah ! deign to my cry a kind answer to give. And shed a soft tear for the fate of poor Rose. Yet once were my days happy, sweet, and serene ; And once have I tasted the balm of repose : But now on my cheek meagre famine is seen, And anguish prevails in the bosom of Rose. Then buy my wood hare-bells, my cowslips come buy ! O take my carnations, and jessamines sweet : Lest their beauties should wither, their perfumes should die, All snatch'd like myself from their native retreat. With regard to the whole of the above compositions, if it be suggested that the writer was still not within sight of her teens, it is not in the slightest degree intended as an apology (for what is there in them to demand apology ?) but merely to keep in the reader's mind, what their singularly-elegant execution would otherwise inevitably cause him to forget. He will be astonished to discover CAKOLINE SYMMOXS. HS in them at once accuracy of mechanical structure, flow- hig numbers, and splendid expression ; and he will not fail to observe, that she has gathered many a ' young rose-bud' and ' wood hare-bell,' which had been overlooked by her taller predecessours in the same track. The passionate attachment, which she at this period felt to the best English poets, amongst whom Spensee and young Milton (as I have before hinted) were her prime favourites, ought here to be mentioned. So much indeed she was stiiack witii the charms oiU Allegro and II Pense' roso, tliat to have been the author of them, she declared ' there was no personal sacrifice of face or form, which she would have declined : ' and few have had so much of either to offer. Nay, afterwards on her returning home one morning from Ware the oculist's, where she had been undergoing an operation ; when her sufferings became a subject of conversation, and a tender concern was ex- pressed for the possible danger to which tlie sight of the afflicted organ was exposed, she said witli a smile tliat, * to be a Milton, she would cheerfully consent to lose botli her eyes,' ^ From tliis feeble attempt to show her, like her own rose-tree, '* flourishing and sweetening the air,"' I am 26 MEMOIR OF THB LATE now reluctantly summoned to represent her, like it, fading away : to represent Gli occhi sereni, e le stellanti ciglia^ La hella bocca angelica, di perle Plena e di rose e di doke parole fisfc. (Petr. I. clivii.) gradually losing their hue and their lustre^ tliough not their sweetness. For now the delicacy of her health, a circumstance proverbially alas ! connected with prematurity of mental p>ower, began to excite serious alarm in the breasts of her parents. Of this a letter from her fether, dated March ig, 1801, first conveyed to me the mournful intelligence ; and, along with it, a promise (of which I did not, I fear, sufficiently stimulate the fulfilment) that the whole of her productions, with their respective dates, should at some time or other be transcribed for me, as an interesting specimen of childish ability. Those, that have reached me, I liasten to impart to the reader. The earliest of them is an Invocation to Memory ; a poem ftall of expressions which, little noticed perhaps by her friends on it's first appearance {Feb. 18, 1801), must CAROLINE SYMMONS. 2^ since have recurred with excruciating emphasis to their feelings. TO MEMORY. Hail, Memory ! celestial maid, Who lovest with solitude to dwell Under the mountain's ragged shade. Retired within thy pensive cell : O thou, my mingled joy and woe. Sweet source of every bursting sigh ! Who bidd'st these silent sorrows flow; Hail, heaven-bom soothing Memory i The sky is clad in tenderest blue. And Zephyr spreads his balmy wing: The bending floweret weeps with dew ; The bird's soft song salutes the spring. Yet, far retired from this gay scene. From solitude and thee I seek My friend's soft sigh, her smile serene. Her speaking eye, her moisten'd cheek. Come then, and sooth my labouring heart ! Come, awful power ! come, sweetest maid ! O haste, my Lucia's smile impart, And leave the mountain's ragged shade. What, more consistent with his present agony of af- fliction, could have been produced, even by the very elegant and ner\'ous pen of her father himself? The Address to Content, which from her peculiar dif- fidence she would not permit to be called an Ode, is dated 28 MEMOIR OF THE LATE Fel. 22.; May-day, and The Snow-drop, March 10.; The Hare-bell, March 16.; Tlie Song, Jpril 30,; The Invocation to Sleep, Oct. 20.; and tlie Sonnet to Mrs. CaBNWALt, JVin;. 4, 1801. Of these the Snow-drop, the Song, and the Invocation to Sleep were intended for insertion in a romance (" The Orphan of the Cottle") which she and lier elder sister had begun in partnership ; but which has since, witli a feeling easily conceivable, been thrown into the fire by ihe lovely survivor. ADDRESS TO CONTENT. Sweet child of virtue, calm Content ! Friend of the lowly, hear my cry ; Who tum'st the dart by sorrow sent. And smooth'st the rugged brow of poverty. Gay morn awakes her wanton gale. To kiss the sweets of every mead : Soft dews impcarl the verdant vale, And gently bend the cowslip's silken head. Yet withoMt thee vain bloonu the scene. In vain the sylvan warbler sings; In Taia the dale is clad in green , In vain the spicy shrub soft odour flings. Come thQD,-weet maid ! bid trouble cease. And here thy heavenly sisters bring, l>ig4rt Cheerfulness and white-robed Peace: Tcab woe to unile, and bending toil to sing. CAROLINE SYMMONS. 2$' She hears ! she comes ! she cheers my breast, And adds fresh lustre to the view : How richly now the tulip 's drest ! How sweet the little violet's milder hue ! Yes ! place me where the cold wind blows ; With her the storm I will not dread : O'er all a sunny robe she throws, And twines the wreath of spring for winter's head. ON MAY-DAY. Now, breaking from her long repose, Light May with rosy footstep walks the mead; Wliile white-eyed hawthorn blossoms on her head, And king-cups round her feet unclose. And see where, in yon flowering grove, I'he sliepherd twines a garland for his love; And beneath the lime's sweet arms Tells of innocency's charms : While all around them May's soft influence prove, And gay delight each bosom warms. The lawn's green lap with flowerets strown, The genial showers which animate the vale. The odours scatter'd on each balmy gale. And heaven's warm blue her influence own. Sweetest virgin! flower-crown 'd May ! Tor whom the shepherd tunes his simple lay : Dresser of the purple year ! Ever shed thy blessings here ; And long, beneath thy sceptre's gentle sway, May these laughing pUins appear ! 30 MEMOIR OF THE LATE THE SNOW-DROP. When iron winter's desolating gale Wastes the green beauties of the vale. The Snow-drop rears her pensile head, And meekly blossoms in the naked mead : While no young verdure springs beneath her feet. And fierce and beating rains low bend the tender sweet. Tom from her playful infancy's loved hatmt. And thrown to pride's unfeeling taunt. To inward eating care a prey. Thus the sad orphan treads life's desert way : While no soft accents breathe her woes to cheer. No pitying eye distils the sweetly-soothing tear. THE HARE-BELL. In spring's green lap there blooms a flower. Whose cups imbibe each vernal shower; Who sips fresh nature's balmy dew. Clad in her sweetest purest blue : Yet shuns the ruddy beam of morning. The shaggy wood's brown shades adorning. Simple floweret 1 child of May ! Though hid from the broad eye of day; Though doom'd to waste those pensive grace* In the wild wood's dark embraces; In desert air thy sweets to shed, Unnoticed droop the languid head ; Still nature's darling thou'lt remain : She feeds thee with her softest rain; FiUs each sweet bell with honied tears. With genial gales thy blossom cheers. CAROLINE SYMM0N3. 31 Still then unfold thy bashful charms, In yon deep thicket's circling arms : Far from the common eye's coarse glare, No heedless hand shall harm thee there. Still then avoid the gaudy scene. The flaunting sun, th' embroider'd green ; Aiid bloom and fade, with chaste reserve, uaseen. } SONG. O bear me to Sicilia'a plains. Where golden-handed Plenty reigns ; And pure-eyed Faith is wont to rove Through the verdant vales, with love. Bear me to her myrtle bowers, Thickly twined writh breathing flowers ; And lull me, as the wild-bee sings. There by her sleep-enticing springs. While the lark, with varied voices, To see the purple year rejoices; And the citron, glowing fair. Perfumes the fanning wing of air: Flowers in more mingled colours drest, Than paint the tulip's purfled vest; And shrubs on nature's bounty feeding. Liquid balsams sweetly bleeding. Shedding ambrosial sweets around, Mantle the green breast of the ground. Let me then raise my love-tuned song, Sicily*s sweet plains among : There my rosy hours employ. And wing slow time with airy joy. 32 UBMOIR OF THE LATg TO SLEEP. Come, Sleep ! sweet binder of the woes of pain ! Thou, who check'st affliction's dart, Luller of the woe-toss'd heart. Death's pleasing image, come ! and show me Chakles agaiiu Say, hast thou wooed him in some cave to lie. Where Summer hangs her fairest wreath. And loads with rose-flung sweets the morning's breath ; With dewy influence thereto close the eye. To lap stoln sense in transient death. And bid him dying live and living sweetly die ? Or can'st thou tell me, what flower-broider'd way His footsteps kiss ; or where his eye, Held by rapture's flowery tie And drinking golden bliss, lingers with fond delay ? Haste thee then, nymph, in deepest darkness bright ! Sweet delusion with thee bring, And with soft hand thy balmy blessings Hing. Haste thee! and cause thy form to shine through night : Life with sweet delusion wing; Gild night with day's rich blaze, and death with life's delight! TO MRS. CORNWALL, Of Chart Park, near Dorking, Surry. Cornwall ! accept a stranger's grateful lay; Who fain would thank thee for the warm delight Felt in these grounds that, gay with life, invite The poet's strain, and woo the foot to stray: Where changeful nature vaunts her fair display, ' And spring and summer paints with pencil bright } "Till, as calm autumn mellows on the sight, She sinks in golden age and rich decay. CAROUSE SYMMONS. 33 Here charms her various leaf, her waving line, With green health glowing and refined by art : Yet brighter beauties in thy bosom shine Beauties to last, when those shall all depart : And far more sweet the charms, which there combine ; For those but please the eye, while these enchain the heart. In the concluding couplet of this last beautiful produc- tion, she had the candour to reject an alteration of one line proffered by her father ' , on the plea of having tlie whole fourteen her own ; modestly remarking at the same time, tliat ' some faults would stamp the composition as"" more legitimately hers,* There remains only now to be added her Sonnet to Lady Lucy Foley, on her birth-day {Feb. 14,), ilia tamquam cycnea divince puelke vox, smitten in February 1803. No mom now blushes on th' enamour'd sight. No genial sun now warms the torpid lay : Since February sternly check'd his ray. When Lucy's eyes first beam'd their azure light. i Sweet nature's face ! but worth's strong charm is thine ; And that but strikes the eye, while this enchains the heart. C.S. 34- MEMOIR OF THfi LATE WTiat, though no vernal flowers my hand invite To crop their fragrance for your natal day; Lucy! for you the snow-drop and the bay Sliall blend th' unfading green and modest white. Though on your natal day, with aspect bleak. Stern winter frown in icy garments drest ; Still may the rosy summer robe your cheek. And the green spring still bud within your breast: TiU, the world fading on your closing eyes. You find a golden autumn in the skies. Alas ! before tlie end of this raontli a cough, accom- panied witli fever, had reduced her to the lowest stage of weakness, without however in tlie slightest degree af- fecting eitlier her spirits or her temper. By her father, who with his excellent and beloved wife hung over her sick-bed in the most palpitating state of anxiety, I was informed (in a letter, dated April 1/.) that the nature of her complaint was but too clearly ascertained to be pul- monary ; a conclusion in no respect weakened by the frequent alternations of better and worse, so fatally cha- racteristical of consumption. Tliose who, like myself, have ever lost a dear friend by the mining of tliat trt'3cherou8 assailant, will not need to be told what were now tlie reciprocations of hope and fear in the hearts of CAROLINE SYMMONS. 35 her surrounding relatives. The low and languid morning, so often unexpectedly following a day of cheerfulness and a night of repose, the delusive glow of tlie cheek, tlie debility and emaciation, and above all the importunate and unrelenting cough * as exhibited to me in tlie last days of a father, to whose judicious tenderness and self-deny- ing liberality, tmder God, I owe all my blessings will never be erased from my memory : " O thou, my mingled joy and woe, " Sweet source of every bursting sigh ! " Who bidd'st these silent sorrows flow ; " Hail, heaven-born soothing Memory !" Now might her doting trembling father have repeated 4 Who does not remember West's affecting description of his own sufferings in the same complaint ? of the importunissima tiifntis. Qua durare datur traxitque sub ilia vires: Dura eteitim versans imo siih pectore regno, Perpctuo exercet teneras luctamine costas, Oraque distoiquet vocemque immutat anhelam. Nee cessare locust sed scevo concita motu MoUe domat lutus, et corpus labor omnefatigatt Unde molesta dies, noctemque imomnia turbant. D 2 36 MEMOIR OF THE LATE over her, with well-deserved and prophetical panegyric, the well-known chef-d'oeuvre of Petrarch : Chi vuol veder quantunque puo natura E 'I del tra nni, venga a mirar costei, Che sola un sol ; non pur a gli occhi miei. Ma al mondo cieco che virtu non euro, E venga tosto ; perche mortefura Prima i migliori, e lascia star i reu Questa, aspettata al regno degli Dei, Cosa bella mortal passa e non dura. Fedra, s'arriva a tempo, ogni virtute, Ogni bellezza, ogni real costume Giunti in un corpo con mirabil tempre : Allor dira che mie rime son mute, ' V ingegno offeso dal soverchio lume ; Ma, se piu tarda, avra da pianger sempre S. (L ccx.) For on the first oi June, a day (like that of her birtli) 5 Of this beautiful Sonnet I have attempted a translation, which it perhaps requires some apology for subjoining to such a master- piece of elegance and pathos, giunti in un corpo, even in a note. Stranger ! whose curious glance delights to trace What Heaven and Nature join'd to form most rare ; Here view mine eye's bright sun : a sight so fair That purblind worlds, like me, enamour'd gaze. CAROLINE SYMMONS. 37 gloriously distinguished in our national annals <, and for it's double interest ever to be lamented, ever to be ho- noured ! the terrible blow, which had been so long sus- pended, fell ; and " her gentle spirit" returned unto God who gave it. Early, bright, transient, chacte as morning-dew. She sparkled, was exhaled, and went to heaven. (Yovtic. Night Y.) Another touch or two of the pencil, and I have done. To her extraordinary charms, and talents, she united virtues almost as extraordinary ; particularly those of ex- But speed thy step ; for Death with rapid pace Pursues the best, nor deems the bad his care. Call'd to the skies, through yon blue fields of air. On buoyant plume the cherub-child obeys. Then haste, and mark in one rich form combined (And, while surpassing lustre pains thine eye, Chide the weak eflTorts of my trembling lay) Each charm of person, and each grace of mind. But, if thy lingering foot my call deny. Grief and repentant shame shall mourn the brief delay. F. W. 6 By Earl Howe's victory in 1794, as the former in 1782 by that of Lord Roonet. 38 MEMOIR OF THE LATE quisite but well-regulated sensibility, of active huma- nity, of diffidence which shrunk from applause, and of piety which like the cypress, ever verdant, seemed to flourish with augmented vigour upon the borders of the grave. These will be best illustrated by two or three little anecdotes j which however, independently of their present application, deserve to be recorded, were it only as they display at a very early age an uncommon degree of reflexion and right feeling. On his return from France, where he had resided for some time during the first period of the disastrous re- volution in tliat country, one of her uncles presented to her, then quite a child, a national cockade. This she wore with apparent pleasure, until the king was put to deatli : but, upon that melancholy event, she instantly carried it to her father ; and declared, that " she would never again bear the colours of a people, who had com- mitted so cruel a deed ' .'* 7 Alas ! that in a refined age, and may I add a Christian country ? any one should have been found, that one too a female (the reader of " The Correspondence of Louis XVI." will know, to whom I allude) sic /era acferrea, to speak with Salmasius, atque ab omni sensu humanilatis aUena^ vcl a repce inajeslalis respeclu avertOy CAKOLINE S-SMMONS. 30 In a more advanced stage of her short life her father, to show his high approbation of her poetry and of her ex- cujus in prrtore htctiim privatum rum pulliro marore ctDijumlum non excitaverit miserabilis tarn sacri rapiti.s et mirabilis cades -futinus iMiic inter probra saculi, inter portaUa olim numcranduvi ! (Der. Reg. prxf.) But surely the days are fast approaching, when the French them- selves, once a gallant and generous nation, will melt in sympathy over the fortunes of their murdered monarch a monarch equally dignified by his susceptibiUty of domestic tenderness, and his in- difference to personal danger ; who amidst a ferocious rabble of fanatics and assassins, whilst he was declaring to the emigrants of Coblentz {rnalgre son rwit, mnlgre ses ordres re'unis siir les bvrds du Rhin) that he had lost every hope and every resource but that of death, could calmly address to his son's tutour a very sensible paper on education, breathing the most anxious solicitude as a father, and the purest benevolence as a prince : in which he particularly di- rects him to place before his pupil the examples of Louis IX., prince religicur, avcc des mcetirs et dc la le'rite'; Louis XII, qui ne vent point punir ks conjures du Due d'Orleans, et qui re^oit des Fran^ais le litre de Pere du peupi.e; da grand Henri, qui nourrit la ville de Paris, qui I'outrage et lui fail la guerre ^ de Louis XIV, von lorsqu'il donne des loir a I'Europe, wais lorsqu'il pacijie Cunivers^ et quit est le protectcur