« AnteriorContinuar »
A CHARACTER, PANEGYRIC, AND DE- Let them, with their gosling quills, SCRIPTION OF THE LEGION-CLUB.
Scribble senseless heads of bills.
may, while they strain their throats,
Wipe our a-s with their votes. As I stroll the city, oft I
Let Sir Tom, that rampant ass, See a building large and lofty,
Stuff his guts with flax and grass ; Not a bow-shot from the college;
But, before the priest he fleeces, Half the globe from sense and knowledge:
Tear the bible all to pieces : By the prudent architect,
At the parsons, Tom, balloo, boy, Plac'd against the church direct,
Worthy offspring of a shoe-boy, Making good thy grandame's jest,
Footman, traitor, vile seducer, “ Near the church”-you know the rest.
Perjur'd rebel, brib'd accuser, Tell us, what the pile contains?
Lay thy paltry privilege aside, Many a head that holds no brains.
Sprung from papists, and a regicide ; These demoniacs let me dub
Fall a-working like a mole, With the name of Legion-club.
Raise the dirt about your hole. Such assemblies, you might swear,
Come, assist me, Muse obedient! Meet when butchers bait a bear;
Let us try some new expedient; Such a noise, and such haranguing,
Shift the scene for half an hour, When a brother thief is hanging:
Time and place are in thy power. Such a rout and such a rabble
Thither, gentle Muse, conduct me;. Run to hear Jack-pudding gabble;
I shall ask, and you instruct me. Such a crowd their ordure throws
See, the Muse unbars the gate ! On a far less villain's nose.
Hark, the monkeys, how they prate ! Could I from the building's top
All ye gods who rule the soul! Hear the rattling thunder drop,
Styx, through hell whose waters roll ! While the devil upon the roof
Let me be allow'd to tell (If the devil be thunder-proof)
What I heard in yonder hell. Should with poker fiery red
Near the door an entrance gapes, Crack the stones, and melt the lead;
Crowded round with antic shapes, Drive them down on every skull,
Poverty, and grief, and care, While the den of thieves is full;
Causeless joy, and true despair ; Quite destroy the harpies' nest :
Discord, periwigg’d with snakes, How might then our isle be blest!
See the dreadful strides she takes ! For divines allow that God
By this odious crew beset, Sometimes makes the devil his rod;
I began to rage and fret, And the gospel will inform us,
And resolv'd to break their pates, He can punish sins enormous.
Ere we enter'd at the gates ; Yet should Swift endow the schools,
Had not Clio in the pick For his lunatics and fools,
Whisper'd me,“ Lay down your stick.” With a rood or two of land,
What, said I, is this the mad-house? I allow the pile may stand.
These, she answer'd, are but shadows, You perhaps will ask me, Why so ?
Phantoms bodiless and vain, But it is with this proviso :
Empty visions of the brain. Since the house is like to last,
In the porch Briareus stands, Let the royal grant be pass'd,
Shows a bribe in all his hands; That the club have right to dwell
Briareus the secretary, Each within his proper cell,
But we mortals call him Carey. With a passage left to creep in,
When the rogues their country fleece, And a hole above for peeping.
They may hope for pence a-piece. Let them when they once get in,
Clio, who had been so wise Sell the nation for a pin;
To put on a fool's disguise, While they sit a-picking straws,
To bespeak some approbation, Let them rave at making laws;
And be thought a near relation, While they never hold their tongue,
When she saw three hundred brutes Let them dabble in their dung:
All involv'd in wild disputes, Let them form a grand committee,
Roaring till their lungs were spent, How to plague and starve the city :
Privilege of Parliament: Let them stare, and storm, and frown,
Now a new misfortune feels, When they see a clergy gown;
Dreading to be laid by th' heels. Let them, ere they crack a louse,
Never durst the Muse before Call for th' orders of the house ;
Enter that in fernal door.
Clio, stifled with the smell,
How they swagger from their garrison ! nto spleen and vapours fell,
Such a triplet could you tell By the Stygian streams that flew
Where to find on this side hell? From the dire infectious crew.
Harrison, and D-ks, and Clements, Not the stench of Lake Avernus
Keeper, see they have their payments ; Could have more offended her nose;
Every mischief's in their hearts; Had she flown but o'er the top,
If they fail, 'tis want of parts. She had felt her pinions drop,
Bless us, Morgan ! art thou there, man! And by exhalations dire,
Bless mine eyes! art thou the chairman ! Though a goddess, must expire.
Chairman to your damn’d committee ! In a fright she crept away;
Yet I look on thee with pity. Bravely I resolv'd to stay.
Dreadful sight! what! learned Morgan When I saw the keeper frown,
Metamorphos'd to a Gorgon? Tipping him with half a crown,
For thy horrid looks, I own, Now, said I, we are alone,
Half convert me to a stone. Name your heroes one by one.
Hast thou been so long at school, Who is that hell-featur'd brawler?
Now to turn a factious tool ? Is it Satan? No, 'tis Waller.
Alma Mater was thy mother, lo what figure can a bard dress
Every young divine thy brother. Jack the grandson of Sir Hardress?
Thou, a disobedient varlet, Honest keeper, drive him further,
Treat thy mother like a harlot ! In his looks are hell and murther;
Thou ungrateful to thy teachers, See the scowling visage drop,
Who are all grown reverend preachers! Just as when he murder'd T-p.
Morgan, would it not surprise one! Keeper, show me where to fix
Turn thy nourishment to poison ! On the puppy pair of Dicks;
When you walk among your books, By their lantern jaws and leathern,
They reproach you with their looks : You might swear they both are brethren:
Bind them fast, or from their shelves Dick Fitzbaker, Dick the player,
They will come and right themselves; Old acquaintance, are you there?
Homer, Plutarch, Virgil, Flaccus, Dear companions hug and kiss,
All in arms prepare to back us. Toast Old Glorious in your
Soon repent, or put to slaughter Tie them, keeper, in a tether,
Every Greek and Roman author. Let them starve and stink together;
Will you in your faction's phrase, Both are apt to be unruly,
Send the clergy all to graze, Lash them daily, lash them duly;
And, to make your project pass, Though 'tis hopeless to reclaim them,
Leave them not a blade of grass ? Scorpion rods perhaps may tame them.
How I want thee, humorous Hogarth! Keeper, yon old dotard smoke,
Thou, I hear, a pleasing rogue art. Sweetly snoring in his cloak;
Were but you and I acquainted, Who is he? 'tis humdrum Wynne,
Every monster should be painted: Half encompass’d by his kin:
You should try your graving-tools There observe the tribe of Bingham,
On this odious group of fools: For he never fails to bring 'em;
Draw the beasts as I describe them While he sleeps the whole debate,
From their features, while I gibe them ; They submissive round him wait;
Draw them like ; for I assure you Yet would gladly see the hunks
You will need no car'catura; In his grave, and search his trunks.
Draw them so, that we may trace See, they gently twitch his coat,
All the soul in every face. Just to yawn and give his vote,
Keeper, I must now retire, Always firm in his vocation,
You have done what I desire : For the court, against the nation.
But I feel my spirits spent Those are A-s, Jack and Bob,
With the noise, the sight, the scent. First in every wicked job,
“ Pray be patient ; you shall find Son and brother to a queer
Half the best are still behind : Brain-sick brute, they call a peer.
You have hardly seen a score ; We must give them better quarter,
I can show two hundred more.” For their ancestor trod mortar,
Keeper, I have seen enough, And H—th, to boast his fame,
Taking then a pinch of snuff, On a chimney cut his name.
I concluded, looking round them, There sit Clements, D-ks, and Harrison : “ May their god, the devil, confound them!”
SHOWERS IN SPRING.
EXTRACTS FROM THE SEASONS. Has pierc'd the streams, and rous'd the finny race;
Then, issuing cheerful, to thy sport repair;
Chief, should the western breezes curling play,
High to their fount, this day, amid the hills
Down to the river, in whose ample wave
Their little Naiads love to sport at large. In heaps on heaps the doubled vapour sails
Just in the dubious point, where with the pool Along the loaded sky, and, mingling deep,
Is mix'd the trembling stream, or where it boils Sits on the horizon round, a settled gloom;
Around the stone, or from the hollow'd bank Not such as wintry storms on mortals shed,
Reverted plays in undulating flow, Oppressing life, but lovely, gentle, kind,
There throw, nice judging, the delusive fly, And full of ev'ry hope, of ev'ry joy,
And, as you lead it round in artful curve,
Straight as above the surface of the flood
Then fix with gentle twitch the barbed hook;
With various hand proportion'd to their force.
Soft disengage, and back into the stream
Of pendant trees, the monarch of the brook,
Long time he, following cautious, scans the fly,
And oft attempts to seize it, but as oft
At last, while haply o'er the shaded sun
Passes a cloud, he desp’rate takes the death In large effusion o'er the freshen'd world.
With sullen plunge: at once he darts along,
And flies aloft, and flounces round the pool,
Indignant of the guile. With yielding hand
Till floating broad upon his breathless side,
And to his fate abandon'd, to the shore
You gaily drag your unresisting prize.
Thus pass the temp'rate hours; but when the sun
Shakes from his noondaythrone the scatt'ring clouds, Snatch'd from the hoary steed the floating line,
Ev’n shooting listless languor through the deeps, And all thy slender watry stores prepare ;
Then seek the bank where flow'ring elders crowd, When with his lively ray the potent sun
Where scatter'd wild the lily of the vale
Indulg'd in vain. Some to the holly hedge Its balmy essence breathes, where cowslips hang Nestling repair, and to the thicket some; The dewy head, where purple violets lurk,
Some to the rude protection of the thorn With all the lowly children of the shade ;
Commit their feeble offspring; the cleft tree Or lie reclin'd beneath yon spreading ash
Offers its kind concealment to a few, Hung o'er the sleep; whence borne on liquid wing Their food its insects, and its moss their nests : The sounding culver shoots; or where the hawk Others apart, far in the grassy dale High in the beetling cliff his eyry builds;
Or rough’ning waste their humble texture weave: There let the classic page thy fancy lead
But most in woodland solitudes delight, Through rural scenes, such as the Mantuan swain In unfrequented glooms or shaggy banks, Paints in the matchless harmony of song ;
Steep, and divided by a babbling brook, Or catch thyself the landscape, gliding swift Whose murmurs soothe them all the live-long day, Athwart imagination's vivid eye;
When by kind duty fixt. Among the roots Or by the vocal woods and waters lullid,
Of hazel pendent o'er the plaintive stream, And lost in lonely musing, in the dream
They frame the first foundation of their domes, Confus'd of careless solitude, where mix
Dry sprigs of trees, in artful fabric laid, Ten thousand wand’ring images of things,
And bound with clay together. Now ’tis nought Sooth ev'ry gust of passion into peace,
But restless hurry through the busy air, All but the swellings of the soften'd heart,
Beat by unnumber'd wings. The swallow sweeps That waken not disturb the tranquil mind.
The slimy pool, to build his hanging house
Intent; and often from the careless back
Of herds and flocks a thousand tugging bills
Pluck hair and wool; and oft, when unobserv’d, Warm through the vital air, and on the heart Steal from the barn a straw; till soft and warm, Harmonious seizes, the gay troops begin,
Clean and complete, their habitation grows. In gallant thought, to plume the painted wing, As thus the patient dam assiduous sits, And try again the long-forgottenst rain,
Not to be tempted from her tender task, At first faint warbled; but no sooner grows
Or by sharp hunger or by smooth delight, The soft infusion prevalent and wide,
Though the whole loosen'd spring around her blows; Than, all alive, at once their joy o'erflows
Her sympathizing lover takes his staud In music unconfin'd. Up springs the lark,
High on the opponent bank, and ceaseless sings Shrill-voic'd and loud, the messenger of morn; The tedious time away; or else supplies Ere yet the shadows fly, he mounted sings
Her place a moment, while she sudden flits Amid the dawning clouds, and from their haunts To pick the scanty meal. Th’appointed time Calls up the tuneful nations. Ev'ry copse
With pious toil fulfill’d, the callow young Deep-tangled, tree irregular, and bush
Warm’d and expanded into perfect life, • Bending with dewy moisture, o'er the heads Their brittle bondage break and come to light, Of the coy quiristers that lodge within
A helpless family! demanding food Are prodigal of harmony. The thrush
With constant clamour: O what passions then, And wood-lark, o'er the kind contending throng What melting sentiments of kindly care, Superior heard, run through the sweetest length On the new parent seize! away they fly Of notes; when list'ning Philomela deigns
Affectionate, and, undesiring, bear To let them joy, and purposes, in thought
The most delicious morsel to their young, Elate, to make her night excel their day.
Which equally distributed, again The blackbird whistles from the thorny brake ; The search begins. Ev’n so a gentle pair, The mellow bulfinch answers from the grove; By fortune sunk, but form’d of gen'rous mould, Nor are the linnets, o'er the flow'ring furze
And charm’d with cares beyond the vulgar breast, Pour'd out profusely, silent. Join'd to these, In some lone cot, amid the distant woods Innum'rous songsters in the fresh'ning shade Sustain'd alone by providential Heav'n, Of new-sprung leaves their modulations mix Oft as they, weeping, eye their infant trajn, Mellifluous: the jay, the rook, the daw,
Check their own appetites, and give them all. And each harsh pipe, discordant heard alone,
Nor toil alone they scorn ; exalting love, Aid the full concert, while the stock-dove breathes By the great Father of the Spring inspir’d, A melancholy murmur through the whole.
Gives instant courage to the fearful race, 'Tis love creates their melody, and all
And to the simple art. With stealthy wing, This waste of music is the voice of love.
Should some rude foot their woody haunts molest,
Amid the neighb'ring bush they silent drop, Connubial leagues agreed, to the deep woods And whirring thence, as if alarm’d, deceive They haste away, all as their fancy leads,
Th’ unfeeling school-boy. Hence around the head Pleasure, or food, or secret safety, prompts ;
Of wand’ring swain the white-wing'd plover wheels That nature's great command may be obey'd : Her sounding flight, and then directly on, Nor all the sweet sensations they perceive
In long excursion, skims the level lawn
To tempt him from her nest. The wild-duck hence Unstain'd he holds, while many a league to see O'er the rough moss, and o'er the trackless waste He wings his course, and preys in distant isles. The heath-hen futters: pious fraud! to lead
Should I my steps turn to the rural seat, The hot-pursuing spaniel far astray.
Whose lofty elms and venerable oaks Be not the Muse asham'd here to bemoan
Invite the rook, who high amid the boughs, Her brothers of the grove, by tyrant man
In early spring, his airy city builds, Inhuman caught, and in the narrow cage
And ceaseless caws amusive; there, well-pleas’d, From liberty confin'd and boundless air.
I might the various polity survey Dull are the pretty slaves, their plumage dull, Of the mix'd household kind. The careful hen Ragged, and all its brightning lustre lost;
Calls all her chirping family around, Nor is that sprightly wildness in their notes Fed and defended by the fearless cock, Which, clear and vig'rous, warbles from the beech. Whose breast with ardour fames as on he walks But let not chief the nightingale lament
Graceful, and crows defiance. In the pond Her ruin'd care, too delicately fram'd,
The finely-chequer'd duck before her train To brook the harsh confinement of the cage. Rows garrulous. The stately-sailing swan Oft when returning with her loaded bill,
Gives out his snowy plumage to the gale, Th' astonish'd mother finds a vacant nest,
And arching proud his neck, with oary feet By the hard hand of unrelenting clowns
Bears forward fierce, and guards his osier-isle, Robb’d, to the ground the vain provision falls; Protective of his young. The turkey nigh, Her pinions ruffle, and low-drooping, scarce Loud threat'ning, reddens; while the peacock Can bear the mourner to the poplar shade,
His ev'ry-coloured glory to the sun, (spreads Where, all abandon’d to despair, she sings
And swims in radiant majesty aloug. Her sorrows through the night, and on the bough O'er the whole homely scene the cooing dove Sole sitting, still at ev'ry dying fall
Flies thick in am'rous chase, and wanton rolls Takes up again her lamentable strain
The glancing eye, and turns the changeful neck. Of winding woe, till, wide around, the woods Sigh to her song, and with her wail resound.
But now the feather'd youth their former bounds, The meek-ey'd morn appears, mother of dews. Ardent, disdain, and, weighing oft their wings, At first faint-gleaming in the dappled east, Demand the free possession of the sky.
Blue through the dusk the smoking currents shine, This one glad office more, and then dissolves And from the bladed field the fearful hare Parental love at once, now needless grown.
Limps aukward ; while along the forest glade Unlavish wisdom never works in vain.
The wild deer trip, and often turning, gaze 'Tis on some ev'ning, sunny, grateful, mild, At early passenger. Music awakes When nought but balm is breathing tlıro' the woods, The native voice of undissembled joy, With yellow lustre bright, that the new tribes And thick around the woodland hymns arise. Visit the spacious heav'ns, and look abroad
Rous'd by the cock, the soon-clad shepherd leaves On nature's common, far as they can see,
His mossy cottage, where with peace he dwells, Or wing their range and pasture. O’er the boughs And from the crowded fold in order drives Dancing about, still at the giddy verge
His flock to taste the verdure of the morn.
Rushing thence in one diffusive band, The parent guides, and chide, exhort, command, They drive the troubled flocks, by many a dog Or push them off. The surging air receives Compell’d, to where the mazy-running brook Its plumy burden, and their self-taught wings Forms a deep pool ; this bank abrupt and high, Winnow the waving element. On ground
And that fair spreading in a pebbled shore. Alighted, bolder up again they lead,
Urg'd to the giddy brink, much is the toil, Farther and farther on, the length’ning flight, The clamour much of men, and boys, and dogs, Till vanish'd ev'ry fear, and ev'ry pow'r
Ere the soft fearful people to the flood Rous’d into life and action, light in air
Commit their woolly sides; and oft the swain, Th'acquitted parents see their soaring race, On some, impatient, seizing, hurls them in: And, once rejoicing, never know them more. Embolden'd then, nor hesitating more, High from the summit of a craggy cliff,
Fast, fast they plunge amid the flashing wave, Hung o'er the deep, such as amazing frowns And, panting, labour to the farthest shore. On utmost Kilda's shore, whose lonely race
Repeated this, till deep the well-wash'd fleece Resign the setting sun to Indian worlds,
Has drunk the flood, and from his lively haunt The royal eagle draws his vig’rous young,
The trout is banish'd by the sordid stream, Strong pounc'd, and ardent with paternal fire: Heavy, and dripping, to the breezy brow Now fit to raise a kingdom of their own,
Slow move the harmless race, where, as they spread He drives them from his fort, the tow'ring seat Their swelling treasures to the sunny ray, For ages of his empire, which in peace
Inly disturb'd, and wond’ring what this wild