« السابقةمتابعة »
DONE BY THE AUTITOR IN HIS YOUTH.
Such, and so bright an aspect now he bears,
At every door are sun-burnt matrons seen, As when through clouds th' emerging Sun appears, Mending old nets to catch the scaly fry, And, thence exerting his refulgent ray,
Now singing shrill, and scolding eft betweeti ; Dispels the darkness, and reveals the day. Scolds answer foul-mouth'd scolds; bad neighboupe Force he prepard, but check'd the rash design:
hovd I ween. For when, appearing in a form divine,
The snappish cur (the passengers' annoy) The nymph surveys him, and beholds the grace Close at my heel with yelping treble fies; Of charming features, an'l a youthful face; The whimp'ring girl, and hoarser screaming boy, In her soft breast consenting passions move, Join to the yelping treble, shrilling cries ; And the warm maid confcss'd a mutual love. The scolding quean to louder notes doth rise,
And her full pipes those shrilling cries confound; Hæc ubi nequicquam formas Deus aptus in omnes, To her full pipes the grunting hog replies; Edidit; in juvenem jólit: et anilia demit The grunting hogs alarm the neighbours round, Instrumenta sibi : talisque adparuit illi,
And curs, girls, boys, and scolds, in the deep base Qualis ubi oppositas nitidissima solis imago
are drown'd. Evicit nubes, nullaque obstante reluxit.
Hard by a sty, beneath a roof of thatch, Viinque parat: sed vi non est opus: irique figura
Dwelt Obloquy, who in her early days
Baskets of fish at Billingsgate did watch,
Slander beside her, like a magpie, chatters, (ceases IMITATIONS OF ENGLISH POETS,
With Envy, (spitting cat) dread foe to peace;
tatters. Womex ben full of ragerie,
Her dugs were mark'd by every collier's hand, Yet swinken nat sans secresie.
Her mouth was black as bull-dog's at the stall : Thilke moral shall ye understond,
She scratched, bit, and spar'd ne lace ne band, From schoole-boy's tale of fayre Irelond:
And bitch and rogue her answer was to all ; Which to the fennes hath him betake,
Nay, e'en the parts of shame by name would calls To filch the gray ducke the lake.
Yea, when she passed by or lane or nook, Right then, there passen by the way
Would greet the man who turn'd him to the wall. His aunt, and eke her daughters tway.
And by his hand obscene the porter took, Ducke in his trowsers hath he hent,
Nor ever did askance like modest virgin look. Not to be spied of ladies rent.
Such place hath Deptford, navy-building town, “ But ho ! our nephew," (crieth one)
Woolwich and Wapping, smelling strong of pitch “ Ho !" quoth another, cozen John ;"
Such Lainbeth, envy of each band and gown ; And stoppen, and lough, and callen out, And Twickenham such, which fairer scenes enrich, This silly clerk full low cloth lout :
Grots, statues, urns, and Jo-n's dog and bitch. They asken that, and talken this,
Ne village is without, on either side, “ Lo here is coz, and here is miss."
All up the silver Thames, or all adown; But, as he glozeth with speeches soote,
Ne Richmond's self, from whose tall front are ey'd The ducke sore tickleth his erse roote :
Vales, spires, meandering streams, and Windsor'a Fore-piece and buttons all to-brest,
towery pride. Forth thrust a white neck, and red crest. “Te-he,” cry'd ladies; clerke, nought spake: Miss stard ; and gray ducke cryeth “ Quaake." " () moder, moder," (quoth the daughter)
OF A LADY SINGING TO HER LUTE. * Be thilke same thing maids longen a'ter? Bette is to pine on coals and chalke,
Fair charmer, cease, nor make your voice's prize.
A heart resign'd the conquest of your eyes :
Well might, alas ! that threaten'd vessel fail,
We were too blest with these enchanting lays,
Which must be heavenly when an angel plays a
But killing charms your lover's death contrive, In every town where Thamis rolls his tyde,
Lest eavenly music should be heard alive. A narrow pass there is, with houses low;
Orpheus could charm the trees; but thus a tree, Where, ever and anon, the stream is ey'd,
Taught by your hand, can charm no less than he: And many a boat soft sliding to and fro.
A poet made the silent wood pursue, There oft are heard the notes of infant Woe,
This vocal wood had drawn the poet too. The short thick sob, loud scream, and shriller How can ye, mothers, vex your children so ? [squall : Some play, some eat, some cack against the wall, ON A FAN OF THE AUTHOR'S DESIGN, IN WHICH WAS And as they crouchen low, for bread and butter call. PAINTED THE STORY OF EEPHALUS AND PROCRIS, And on the broken pavement, here and there,
WITH THE MOTTO, AURA VENI. Doth many a stinking sprat and herring lie;
CUMP., gentle air !” th’ Æolian shepherd said, A brandy and tobacco shop is near,
While Procris panted in the secret shade; And hens, and dogs, and hogs are feeding by; * Come, gentle air,” the fairer Delia cries, And here a sailor's jacket bangs to dry.
While at her feet her swain expiring lies.
to the glad gales o'er all her beauties stray,
E. OF ROCHESTER,
SILENCE! coeval with eternity, Alike both lovers fall by those they love.
Thou wert, ere Nature's self began to be Yet guiltless too this bright destroyer lives, 'Twas one vast nothing, all, and all slept fast in thee. At random wounds, nor knows the wound she
T'hine was the way, ere Heaven was form'd or gives;
Ere fruitful Thought conceiv'd Creation's birth,
Then various elements against thee join'd,
In one more various animal combin’d, (kind. COWLEY.
And fram'd the clamorous race of busy humanTHE GARDEN
The tongue mov'd gently first, and speech was low, faix would my Muse the powery treastire sing, Till wrangling Science taught it noise and show, And humble glories of the youthful Spring : And wicked Wit arose, thy most abusive foe. Where opening roses breathing sweets diffuse, But rebel Wit deserts thee oft in vain ; And soft carnations shower their balmy dews; Lost in the maze of words he turns again, Where lilies smile in virgin robes of wbite, And seeks a surer state, and courts thy gentle reign The thin undress of superficial Light,
Afflicted Sense thou kindly dost set. free, And vary'd tulips show so dazzling gay,
Oppress'd with argumental týranny, Blushing in bright diversities of day.
And routed Reason finds a safe retreat in thee. Each painted flowret in the lake below Surveys its beauties, whence its beauties grot;
With thee in private modest Dulness lies, And pale Narcissus on the bank, in vain
And in thy bosom lurks in Thought's disguise; Transformed, gazes on himself again.
Thou varnisher of fools, and cheat of all the wise ! Here aged trees cathedral walks compose,
Yet thy indirlgence is by both confess'd; And mount the hill in venerable rows;
Folly by thee lies sleeping in the breast, There the green infants in their beds are laid, And 'tis in thee at last that Wisdom seeks for rest. The garden's hope, and its expected shade.
Silence, the knave's repute,the whore's good name, Here orange trees with blooms and pendants
The only honour of the wishing dame; shine,
Thy very want of tongue makes thee a kind of fame. And vernal honours to their autumn join; Exceed their promise in their ripen'd store,
But couldst thou seize some tongues that row are
free, Yet in the rising blossom promise more.
How church and state should be oblig'd to thee; There in bright drops the crystal fountains play, By laurels shielded from the piercing day :
At senate, and at bar, how welcome wouldst thou be! Where Daphrie, now a tree, as once a maid,
Yet Speech ev'n there submissively withdraws, Still from Apollo vindicates her shade,
From rights of subjects, and the poor man's cause: Still turns her beauties from th' invading beam,
Then pompous Silence reigns, and stills the noisy Nor seeks in vain for succour to the stream;
laws. The stream at once preserves her virgin leaves, Past services of friends, good deeds of foes, At once a shelter from her boughs receives,
What favourites gain, and what the natiot owes, Where Summer's beauty midst of Winter stays, Fly the forgetful world, and in thy arms repose. And Winter's coolness spite of Summer's rays. The country wit, religion of the town,
The courtier's learning, policy o' th' gown,
Are best by thee express'd; and shine in thee alone, WEEPING.
The parson's cant, the lawyers sophistry, WHILE Celia's tears make Sorrow bright,
Lord's quibble, critic's jest, all end in thee, Proud Grief sits swelling in her eyes :
All rest in peace at last, and sleep eternally. The Sun, next those the fairest light,
Thus from the Ocean first did rise : And thus through mists we see the Sun, Which else we durst not gaze upon.
ARTEMISIA. These silver drops, like morning dew,
Trouch Artemisia talks, by fits,' Foretel the fervour of the day:
Of councils, classics, fathers, wits; So from one cloud soft showers we view,
Reads Malbranche, Boyle, and Locke; And blasting lightnings burst away.
Yet in some things methinks she fails, The stars that fall from Celia's eye,
'Twere well if she would pare her nails, Declare our doom is drawing nigh.
And wear a cleaner smock. The baby in that sunny sphere
Haughty and huge as High-Dutch bride, So like a Phaëton appears,
Such nastiness, and so much pride, That Heav'n, the threaten'd world to spare, Are oddly join'd by Pate: Thought fit to drown him in her tears :
On her large squab you find her spread, Else might th' ambitious nymph aspire
Like a fat corpse upon a bed, To set, like him, Heaven too on fire.
That lies and stinks in statę.
E. OF DORSET.
She wears no colours (sign of grace)
AN ESSAY ON SATIRE,
OCCASIONED BY THE DEATH OF MR. POTE.
INSCRIBED TO MR. WARBURTON.
BY J. BROWN, A. M.
- Majestically stalk ;
PART 1. Of the end and efficacy of satire. The
love of glory and fear of shame universal, ver.
29. This passion, implanted in man as a spur
to virtue, is generally perverted, ver. 41. Ånd
thus becomes the occasion of the greatest follies,
vices, and miseries, ver. 61. It is the work of
satire to rectify this passion, to reduce it to its
proper channel, and to convert it into an incen-
Merchant's unloaded bere their freight,
tive to wisdom and virtue, ver. 89. Hence it
And agents from each foreign state
appears, that satire may influence those who
defy all laws human and divine, ver. 99. An
Her learning and good-breeding such,
Whether th’ Italian or the Dutch,
PART 11. Rules for the conduct of satire. Justice
and truth its chief and essential property, ver.
To all obliging she'd appear :
169. Prudence in the application of wit and
'Twas Si Signior, 'twas Yaw Mynheer,
ridicule, whose province is, not to explore un-
'Twas S'il vous plaist, Monsieur.
known, but to enforce known truths, ver. 191.
Obscure by birth, renown'd by criines,
Proper subjects of satire are the manners
Still changing names, religion, climes,
of present times, ver. 239. Decency of ex-
pression recommended, ver. 255. The dif-
frent methods in which folly and vice ought
to be chastised, ter. 269. The tariety of
style and manners which these two subjects
So have I known those insects fair
require, ver. 277. The praise of virtue may be
admitted with propriety, ver. 315. Caution
(Which curious Germans hold so rare)
with regard to panegyric, ver. 329. The dig.
nity of trưe satire, ver. 341.
Still gain new titles with new forms;
First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms,
Part 11t. The history of satire. Roman satirists,
Lucilius, Horace, Persius, Juvenal, ver. 357..
&c. Causes of the decay of literature, particu-
larly of satire, ver. 389. Revival of satire, 401.
Erasmus one of its principal restorers, ver. 405.
Donne, ver. 411. The abuse of satire in Eng-
THE HAPPY LIFE OF A COUNTRY PARSON.
land, during the licentious reign of Charles II.
Parsoy, these things in thy possessing,
ver. 415. Dryden, rer. 429. The true ends of
Are better than the bishop's blessing.
satire pursued by Boileau in France, ver. 439.
A wife that makes conserves; a steed
and by Mr. Pope in England, ver. 445.
That carries double when there's need :
October store, and best Virginia,
Tythe pig, and mortuary guinea :
Gazettes sont gratis down, and frank'd,
Ate gave the word : the crdel arrow sped;
For which thy patron's weckly thank'd;
And Pope lies number'd with the mighty dead !
A large concordance, bound long since;
Resign'd he fell ; superior to the dart,
Sermons to Charles the First, when prince:
That quench'd its rage in yours and Britain's heart:
A chronicle of ancient standing ;
You mouru : but Britain, lull'd in rest profound,
A Chrysostom to smooth thy band in.
(linconscious Britain !) slumbers o'er her round.
The polyglott-three parts,-my text,
Exulting Dulness ey'd the setting light,
Howbeit,- likewise now to my next
And flapp'd her wing, impatient for the night :
Lo here the Septuagint,--and Paul,
Rous'd at the signal, Guilt collects her traiu,
To sum the whole,--the close of all.
And counts the triomphs of her growing reign : 10
He that has these, may pass his life,
With inextinguishable rage they burn;
Drink with the 'squire, and kiss his wife ;
And snake-hung Envy hisses o'er his urn:
On Sundays preach, and eat his fill;
Th’envenomd monsters spit their deadly foam,
To blast the laurel that surrounds his tomb.
But you, o Warburton! whose eye refin'd
Cau see the greatness of an honest mind;
Can see each virtue and each grace unite,
And taste the raptures of a pure delight;
You visit oft his awful page with care,
Hence Satire's power: 'Tis her corrective part, And view that bright assemblage treasur'd there; 20 To calm the vild disorders of the heart. 90 You trace the chain that links his deep design, She points the arduous height were Glory lies, And pour new lustre on the glowing line.
And teaches mad Ambition to be wise : Yet deign to hear the efforts of a Muse,
In the dark bosom wakes the fair desire, Whose eye, not wing, his ardent flight pursues: Draws good from ill, a brighter flaine from fire: Intent fron this great archetype to draw
Strips black Oppression of her gay disguise, Satire's bright form, and fix her equal law; And bids the bag in native horrour rise ; Pleas'diffrom hence th’unlearn'd may comprehend, Strikes towering Pride and lawless Rapine dead, And reverence his and Satire's generous end. And plants the wreath on Virtue's awful head.
In every breast there burns an active flame, Nor boasts the Muse a vain imagin'd power, The love of glory, or the dread of shanie : 30 Though oft she mourns those ills she cannot cure. 100 The passion one, though various it appear, The worthy court her, and the worthless fear; As brighten'd into hope, or dimmd by fear. Who shun her piercing eye, that eye revere. The lisping infant, and the hoary sire,
Her awful voice the vain and vile obey, And youth and manhood feel the heart-born fire : And every foe to Wisdom feels her sway. The charms of praise the coy, the modest woo,
Smarts, pedants, as she smiles, no more are vain; And only fly, that Glory may pursue :
Desponding fops resign the clouded cane: She, power resistless, rules the wise and great ; Hush'd at her voice, pert Folly's self is still, Bends ep'n reluctant hermits at her feet;
And Dulness wonders while she drops her quill. Haunts the proud city, and the lowly shade, Like the arm'd bee, with art most subtly true, And sways alike the sceptre and the spade. 40, from poisonous Vice she draws a healing dew : 110
Thus Heaven in pity wakes the friendly Name, Weak are the ties that civil arts can find, To urge mankind on deeds that merit fame : To quell the ferment of the tainted mind : But man, vain man, in folly only wise,
Cunning evades, securely wrapp'd in wiles ! Rejects the manna sent him from the skies : And Force, strong-sinewd, rends th' unequal toils : With rapture hears corrupted Passion's call, The stream of vice impetuous drives along, Still proudly prone to mingle with the stall, Too deep for Policy, for Power too strong. As each deceitfu) shadow tempts his view,
Ev'n fair Religion, native of the skies, He for the imag'd substance qnits the true ; Scorn'd by the crowd, seeks refuge with the wise ; Eager to catch the visionary prize,
The crowd with laughter spurus her awful train, In quest of glory plunges deep in vice; 50 And Mercy courts, and Justice frowns in vain. 120 Till madly zealous, impotently vain,
But Satire's shaft can pierce the harden'd breast : He forfeits every praise he pants to gain.
She plays a ruling passion on the rest : Thus still imperious Nature plies her part; Undaunted storms the battery of his pride, And still her dictates work in every heart.
And awes the brave, that rarth and Heaven defy'd. Each power that sovereign Nature bids enjoy, When fell Corruption by her vassals crown'd, Man may corrupt, but man can ne'er destroy. Derides fall’n Justice prostrate on the ground; Like mighty rivers, with resistless force
Swift to redress an injur'd people's groan, The passions rage, obstructed in their course; Bold Satire shakes the tyrant on her throne; Swell to new heights, forbidden paths explore, Powerful as Death, defies the sordid train, And drown those virtues which they fed before. 60 And slaves and sycophants surround in vain. 130
And sure, the deadliest foe to Virtue's flame, But with the frienils of vice, the foes of satire, Our worst of evils, is perverted Shame.
All truth is spleen; all just reproof, ill-nature. Beneath this load, what abject numbers groan, Well may they dread the Muse's fatal skill; Th' entangled slaves to folly not their own! Well may they tremble when she draws her quill: Meanly by fashionable fear oppressid,
Jler magic quill, that, like Ithuriel's spear, We seek our virtues in each other's breast; Reveals the cloven hoof, or lengthen'd ear: Blind to ourselves, adopt each foreign vice, Bids Vice and Folly take their natural shapes, Another's weakness, interest, or caprice.
Turns dutchesses to strumpets, beaux to apes ; Fach fool to low ambition, poorly great,
Drags the vile whisperer from his dark abode, That pines in splendid wretchedness of state, 70 Till all the demon starts up from the toad. 140 Tird in the treacherous chase, would nobly yield, () sordid maxim, form’d to screen the vile, And, but for shame, like Sylla, quit the field : That true Good-nature still must wear a smile ! 'The demon Shame paints strong the ridicule, In frowns array'd her beauties stronger rise, And whispers close, “ The world will call you fool,” When love of virtue wakes her scorn of vice:
Behold yon wretch by impious Fashion driven, Where Justice calls, 'tis cruelty to save ; Believes and trembles while he scoffs at Heaven. And 'tis the Law's good-nature hangs the knave. By weakness strong, and bold through fear alone, Who combats Virtue's foe is Virtue's friend; He dreads the sneer by shallow coxcombs thrown; Then judge of Satire's merit by her end : Dauntless pursues the path Spinoza trod;
To guilt alone her vengeance stands confin'd, To man a coward, and a brave to God. 80 The object of her love is all mankind.
150 Faith, Justice, Heaven itself now quit their hold, Scarce more the friend of man, the wise must own, When to false Fame the captive heart is sold : Ev'n Allen's bounteous hand, than Satire's frown : Hence, blind to truth, relentless Cato dy'd; This to chastise, as that to bless was giv'n: Nought could subdue his virtue, but his pride, Alike the faithful ministers of Heaven. Hence chaste Lucretia's innocence betray'd
Oft in unfeeling hearts the shaft is spent : Fell by that honour which was meant its aid. Though strong th' example, weak the punishment Thus Virtue sinks beneath unnumber'd woes, They least are pain'd, who merit satire most : When passions, born her friends, revolt her foes, Folly the Laureat's, vice was Chartres' boast :
Then where's the wrong, to gibbet high the name But you, more sage, reject th' inverted rule,
On truth, on falsehood, let her colours fall, Generous and kind, though painful, is her art: She throws a dazzling glare alike on all ; With caution bold, she only strikes to heal : As the gay prism but mocks the flatter'd eye, Though Folly raves to break the friendly steel. And gives to every object every dye.
239 Then sure no fault impartial Satire knows,
Beware the mad adventurer : bold and blind Kind ev'n in vengeance, kind to Virtue's foes. She hoists her sail, and drives with every wind i Whose is the crime, the scandal too be theirs ;
Deaf as the storm to sinking Virtue's groan,
Nor heeds a friend's destruction, or her own.
This point the way, that waft us glad to shore.
And judge the reigning manners by the past : But chief, be steady in a noble end,
Bid Britain's heroes (awful shades !) arise, And shew mankind that Truth has yet a friend, And ancient Hongur beam on modern Vice: 'Tis mean for empty praise of wit to write, Point back to minds ingenuous, actions fair, As.foplings grin to show their teeth are white : Till the sons blush at what their fathers were & To brand a doubtful folly with a smile,
Ere yet t'was beggary the great to trust; Or madly blaze unknown defects, is vile ;
Ere yet 'twas quite a folly to be just; "Tis doubly vile, when, but to prove your art, When low-born sharpers only dar'd a lye, You fix an arrow in a blameless heart.
180 Or falsify'd the card, or cogg'd the dye; 250 O lost to Honour's voice, O doom'd to shame, Fre Lewdness the stain'd garb of Honour wore, Thou fiend accurst, thon murrlerer of Pame! Or Chastity was carted for the whore; Fell ravisher, from Innocence to tear
Vice flutter'd in the plumes of Freedom dress'd ; That name, than liberty, than life more dear!
Or public Spirit yas the public jest. Where shall thy baseness meet its just return, Be ever, in a just expression, bold, Or what repay thy guilt, but endless scorn? Yet ne'er degrade fair Satire to a scold: And know, immortal Truth shall mock thy toil : Let no unworthy mien her form debase, Immortal Truth shall bid the shaft recoil; But let her smile, and let her frown with grace : With rage retorted, wing the deadly dart; In mirth be temperate, temperate in her spleen ; And empty all its poison in thy heart.' 190 Nor, while she preaches modesty, obscene. 269
With caution next, the dangerous power apply; | Deep let her wound, not rankle to a sure, An eagle's talon asks an eagle's eye :
Nor eall his lordship, her grace a Let Satire then her proper object know,
The Muse's charms resitless then assail, And ere she strike, be sure she strike a foe, When wrapp'd in Irony's transparent veil : Nor fondly deem the real fool confest,
Her beauties half-conceal'd, the more surprise, Because blind Ridicule conceives a jest:
And keener lustre sparkles in her eyes. Before whose altar Virtue oft hati bled,
Then be your line with sharp encomiuins grac'd : And oft a destin'd victim shall be led :
Style Clodius honourable, Bufa chaste. Lo Shaîtesbury rears her high on Reason's throne, Dart not ou Folly an indignant eye: And loads the slave with honours not her own : 200 Who e'er discharg'd artillery on a tig? 270 Big-swoln with folly, as her smiles provoke, Deride not Vice: absurd the thought and vain, Prophaneness spawns, pert dunces nurse the joke! To bind the tiger in so weak a chain. (more, Come, let us join awhilc this tittering crew, Nay more ; when flagrant crimes your laughter And own the ideot guide for once is true;
The knave exults : to smile, is to approve. Deride our weak forefathers' musty rule,
The Muse's labour then success shall crown, Who therefore smil'd because they saw a fool; When Folly feels her smile, and Vice her frown. Sublimer logic now adorns our isle,
Know next what measures to each theme belong, We therefore see a fool, because we smile.
And suit your thoughts and numbers to your song: Truth in her gloomy cave why fondly seek? On wing proportion'd to your quarry rise, Lo gay she sits in Laughter's dimpled cheek: 210 And stoop to earth, or soar among the skies. 280 Contamos each surly academic foe,
Thus when a modish folly you rehearse, And courts the spruce freethinker and the beau.
Free the expression, simple be the verse. Dadalian arguments but few can trace,
In artless numbers paint th' ambitious peer, But all can read the language of Grimace.
That mounts the box, and shines a charioteer : Hence mighty Ridicule's all-conquering hand In strains familiar sing the midnight toil Shall work Herculean wonders through the laud:
Of or mps and senates disciplin'd by Hoyle; Bound in the magic of her cobweb chain,
Patriots and chiefs, whose deep design invades, You, mighty Warburton, shall rage in vain, And carries off the captive king-of spades ! In vain the trackless maz' of Truth you scan, Let Satire here in milder vigour shine, And lend th' informing clue to erring man : 220 | Anil gayly graceful sport along the line; 290 No more shall Reason boast her power divine, Bid courtly Passion quit her thin pretence, Her base eternal shook by Folly's mine!
And smile each affectation into sense. Truth's sacred fort th' exploded laugh shall win; Net so when Virtue, by her guards betray'd, And eoxcombs vanquish Berkeley by a grin. Spum'd from her thrope, implores the Muse's aid: