« PreviousContinue »
Yet never robs the thining bloom
Whenever I'm dispos'd to dine, Or of its beauty or perfume.
I think the whole creation inine ; Thus she discharg'd in ev'ry way
That I'm a bird of high degree, The various duties of the day.
And ev'ry insect made for me.
Hence oft I search the emmet-brood
And oft, in wantonness and play,
I nay ten thousand in a day. By pensive parents often taught
For truth it is, without disguisc, What ills arise from want of thought;
That I love mischief as my eyes. That poverty on sloth depends ;
Oh fie! the honest Bee reply'd, On poverty the loss of friends,
I fear you make base man your guide ; Hence ev'ry day the Ant is found
Of ev'ry creature sure the worst, With anxious Steps to tread the ground; Tho' in creation's scale the first ! With curious search to trace the grain,
Ungrateful man! 'tis strange he thrives, And drag the heavy load with pain.
Who burns the Bees to rob their hives ! The active Bee, with pleasure, law
I hate his vile administration, The Ant fulfil her parent's law,
And so do all the emmet nation. Ah ! fifter-labourer, says she,
What fatal foes to birds are men, How very fortunate are we !
Quite to the Eagle from the Wren! Who, taught in infancy to know
O! do not mens example take, The comforts which from labour flow,
Who mischief do for mischief's fake; Are independent of the great,
But spare the Ant-her worth demands Nor know the wants of pride and state. Efcem and friendship at your hands. Why is cur food fo very sweet?
A mind with ev'ry virtue blett, Because we earn before we eat.
Muft raise compassion in your breast. Why are our wants so very few?
Virtue! rejoin'd the fncering bird, Because we nature's calls pursue.
Where did you learn that Gothic word ? Whence our complacency of mind?
Since I was hatch'd, I never heard Because we act our parts ailign'd.
That virtue was at all rever'd. Have we incesant tasks to do?
But say it was the ancients claim, Is not all nature busy too ?
Yet moderns disavow the name ; Doth not the lun, with constant pace,
Unless, my dear, you read romances, Persift to run his nnual race?
I cannot reconcile
fancies, Do not the stars, which thine so bright, Virtue in fairy tales is seen Renew their courses ev'ry night?
To play the goddess or the queen;
But what's a queen without the pow'r?
Yet this is all that virtue brags,
At best 'tis only worth in rags. If you all nature's fyftem scan,
Such whims my very heart derides : The only idle thing is man.
Indeed you make me burst my sides. A wanton Sparrow long’d to hear
Trust me, Miss Bee-to speak the truth, Their fage discourse, and straight drew ncar, I've copy'd men from earliest youth; The bird was talkative and loud,
The same our taste, the same our school, And very pert and very proud;
Passion and appetite our rule; As worthless and as vain a thing,
And call me bird, or call me sinner, Perhaps, as ever wore a wing.
I'll ne'er forego my sport or dinner. She found, as on a spray the sat,
A prowling cat the miscreant spics, The little friends were deep in chat;
And wide expands her amber eyes : That virtue was their fav’rite theme,
Near and more near Grimalkin daws; And toil and probiry their scheme :
She wags her tail, protends her paws ; Such talk was hateful to her breast;
Then, fpringing on her thoughtless prey, She thought them arrant prudes at best.
She bore the vicious bird away. When, to display her naughty mind,
Thus, in her cruelty and pride, Hunger with cruclty combin'd,
The wicked wanton Sparrow dy'd, kirti She vicw'd the Ant with favage eyes, And hopt and hopt to snatch the prize, The Bee, who watch'd her op'ning bill,
§ 207. The Bears and Bees. MERRICK. And guess'd her fell design to kill, Alk'd her, from what l;er anger rose,
AS S two young Bears, in wanton mood, And why she treated Ants as foes?
Forth issuing from a neighb'ring wood, The Sparrow her reply began;
Came where th’industrious Bees had ftor'd And thus the conversation ran:
In artful cells their luscious hoard,
O’erjoy'd, they seiz'd with eager haste Why, Sir, d'ye think I've lost my eyes "" Luxurious on the rich repast.
“'Twere no great loss,” the friend replies; Aların'd at this, the little crew
" For, if they always serve you thus, About their ears vindi&tive few.
“ You'll find 'em but of little use." The beasts, unable to sustain
So high at last the contest rose,
From words they almost came to blows :
To him the question they referr'd;
And begg'd he'd tell them, if he knew, Too late their rashness they bemoan;
Whether the thing was green or blue? And this by dear experience gain,
• Sirs,' cries the umpire, cease your pother, That pleasure's ever bought with pain.
· Thc crcature's neither onc nor t'other : So, when the gilded baits of vice
• I caught the animal last night, Are plac'd before our longing eyes,
• And viewid it o'er by candle-light: With greedy harte we spatch our fill,
• I mark'd it well-twas black as jet And swallow down the latent ill;
• You stare—but, Sirs, I've got it yet, But when experience opes our eyes,
• And can produce it.' “ Pray, Sir, do: Away the fancy'd pleasure flies :
“ I'll lay my life, the thing is blue.” It flies; but oh! too late we find
• And I'll be sworn, that when you've seen It leaves a real fting behind.
• The reptile, you'll pronounce him green.'
“ Well then, at once, to cease the doubt,"
Replies the man, “ I'll turn him out : $ 208. The Cameleon. MERRICK. “ And when before your eyes I've set him, OFT has it been my lot to mark
don't find bim black, I'll eat him." A proud conceited talking spark,
Hé faid; then full before their sight With eyes that hardly serv'd at most
Produc'd the beast, and lo-'twas white. To guard their master 'gainst a post;
Both star'd; the inan look'd wond'rous wise Yet round the world the blade has been, My children,' the Cameleon cries To see whatever could be seen :
(Then first the creature found a tongue) Returning from his finish'd tour,
1 You all are right, and all are wrong: Grown ten times perter than before;
· When next you talk of what you view, Whatever word you chance to drop,
· Think others see as well as you : The travellid fool your mouth will flop : • Nor wonder, if you find that none “ Sir, if my judgment you'll allow
Prefers your eye-light to his own.'
$ 209. The Monkies. A Tale. MERRICK. Two travellers of such a cast,
WHOE'ER, with curious eye, has rang'd As o'er Arabia's wilds they past,
Thro’ Ovid's tales, has seen And on their way, in friendly chat,
How Jove, incens’d, to Monkies chang'd Now talk'd of this, and then of that,
A tribe of worthless men, Discours'd a while, 'mongst other matter,
Repentant foon, th'offending race Of the Cameleon's form and nature.
Intreat the injur'd pow'r • A stranger animal,' cries one,
To give them back the human face, « Sure never liv'd beneath the sun :
And reason's aid restore. • A lizard's body, lean and long, • A filh's head, a ferpent's tongue ;
Jove, sooth'd at length, his ear inclin'd, • Its tooth with triple claw disjoin'd;
And granted half their pray?r! • And what a length of tail behind!
But t'other half he bade the wind • How now its pace ! and then its hue
Disperse in empty air. • Who ever saw so fine a blue?'
Scarce had the Thund'rer giv'n the nod “ Hold there,” the other quick replies,
That shook the vaulted skies, “ 'Tis green,- I saw it with these eyes, With haughtier air the creatures strode, “ As late with open mouth it lay,
And stretch'd their dwindled size. “ And warm'd it in the funny ray;
The hair in curls luxuriant, now “ Stretch'd at its cafe the beast I'view'd,
Around their temples spread; “ And saw it eat the air for food.” • I've seen it, Sir, as well as you,
The tail, that whilom hung below,
Now dangled from the head. And must again affirm it blue. • At leisure I the beast survey'd,
The head remains unchang'd within, • Extended in the cooling shade.'
Nor alter'd much the face; “ 'Tis green, 'tis green, Sir, I assure yo.”— It still retains its native grin, Green !' cries the other in a fury
And all its old grimace,
Thus, half transform'd, and half the fame, Our portion is not large, indeed;
But then how little do we need ! (Restoring them their ancient claiin)
For nature's calls are few : Among the human race.
In this the art of living lies, Man with contempt the brute survey'd,
To want no more than may suffice, Nor would a name bestow;
And make that little do. But woman lik'd the motley breed,
We'll therefore relish with content And callid the thing a Beau.
Whate'er kind Providence has sent,
Nor aim beyond our pow's;
For, if our stock be very finall, § 210. The Fire-Side. COTTON.
'Tis prudence to enjoy it all, DE EAR Chloe, while the busy crowd,
Nor lose the present hour, The vain, the wealthv, and the proud,
To be resign'd when ills betide, In Folly's maze advance;
Patient when favours are deny'd, Tho' fingularity and pride
And pleas'd with favours givn; Be callid our choice, we'll step aside,
Dear Chloe, this is wisdom's part; Nor join the giddy dance.
This is that incense of the heart,
Whole fragrance finells to heav'n.
We'll ask no long protracted treat,
Since winter life is seldom fiveet; No noily neighbour enters here;
But, when our feast is o'er,
Grateful from table we'll arise,
Nor grudge our fons with envious eyes
The relics of our storc.
Thus, hand in hand, thro’ life we'll go;
Its chequer'd paths of joy and woe
With cautious steps we'll tread;
Quir its vain scenes without a tear,
Without a trouble or a fear,
And mingle with the dead.
While Conscience, like a faithful friend,
Shall thro' the gloomy vale attend,
And chcer our dying breath ;
Shall, when all other comforts cease,
Like a kind angel, whisper peace, Tho'fools fparn Hymen's gentle pow'rs,
And smooth the bed of death. We, who improve his golden hours,
By fweet experience know, That marriage, rightly understood, Gives to the tender and the good
§ 211. Vifions for the Entertainment and Infrut: A paradise below.
tion of younger Minds. Cotton. Our babes fall richest comforts bring;
Virginibus puerisque canto. Hor. If tutor'd right, they'll prove a spring
Whence pleasures ever risc :
Thro' modesty, suppress their name*;
And would you wish me to reveal
What these superior wits conceal,
Forego the search, my curious friend,
All my ambition is, I own,
To profit and to please unknown;
Like streams fupply'd from springs below,
Which scatter bleitings as they flow.
Were you diseas'd, or press'd with pain,
Straight you'd apply to Warwick Lane:
The thoughtful Doctor fecis your pulte
(No matter whether Mead or Hulfe) We look with pity on the great,
Writes-Arabíc to you and me
Then signs his hand, and takes his fee. • Though Dr. Cotton is well known to have been the author of these Vifions, they have hitherto been ped without prefining his name.
TO THE READER.
Now, should the fage omit his name,
But now no mother fears a foe; Would not the curc remain the same?
No daughter shudders at a beau ; Not but physicians sign their bill,
Pleasure is all the reigning theme; Or when they cure, or when they kill.
Our noon-day thought, our midnight dreain, 'Tis often known, the mental race
In folly's chace our youths engage, Their fond ambitious fires disgrace.
And ihameless crowds of tott’ring age. Dar'd I avow a parent's claim,
The dic, the dance, th’intemp'rate bowl, Critics might sneer, and friends might blame. With various charms ingross the foul. This dangʻrous secret let me hide,
Are gold, fame, health, the terms of vice I'll tell you ev'ry thing beside :
The frantic tribes shall pay the price. Not that it boots the world a tittle,
But tho' to ruin post they run, Whether the author's big or little ;
They'll think it hard to be undone, Or whether fair, or black, or brown;
Do not arraign my want of taste No writer's hue concerns the town.
Or fight, to ken where joys are plac'd. I pass the filent rural hour,
They widely.err who think me blind; No llave to wealth, no tool to pow'r :
And I disclaim a stoic's mind. My manfion's warm, and very neat ;
Like yours are my sensations quite ; You'd say, ' A pretty fnug retreat !!
I only strive to feel aright. My rooms no costly paintings grace;
My joys, like streams, glide gently by; The humbler print supplies their place.
Tho' linall their channel, never dry; Behind the house my garden lies,
Keep a still, even, fruitful wave, And opens to the southern skies :
And bless the neighb’ring meads they lave. The distant hills gay prospects yield,
My fortune (for I'll mention all, And plenty smiles in ev'ry field.
And more than you dare tell) is small; The faithful mastiff is my guard ;
Yet ev'ry friend partakes my store, , The feather'd tribes adorn my yard ;
And want goes siniling from my door.
Will forty shillings warm the breast
This sum I cheerfully impart, (Brutes leave ingratitude to man);
'Tis fourscore pleasures to my heart! She daily, thankful to her lord,
And you may make, by means like these, Crowns with nectareous sweets my
board : Five talents ten, whenc'er you please. Am I diseas'd--the cure is known;
'Tis true, my little purse grows light; Her sweeter juices mend my own.
But then I sleep so sweet at night! I love my house, and feldom roam ;
This grand specific will prevail Few visits please me more than home :
When all the doctor's opiates fail. I pity that unhappy elf
You ask what party 1 pursue? Who loves all company but felf;
Perhaps you mean, · Whose fool are you By idle passions borne away.
The names of party
Badges of Navery at best :
And too much pride to turn a llave.
I love my country from my soul, And icorns to redden into thiame.
And grievc' when knaves or fools controul : But know, my fair, to whom betong
I'm pleas'd when vice and folly smart, The poet and his artless song,
Or at the gibbet or the cart : When female cheeks refuse to glow,
Yet always pity where I can; Farewell to virtue here below!
Abhor the guilt, but mourn the man. Our sex is loft to ev'ry rule ;
Now the religion of your poet.. Our sole distinction, knave or fool.
Does not this little preface show it ? 'Tis to your innocence we run ;
My Vifions if you scan with care, Save us, ye fair, or we're undone :
'Tis ten to one you'll find it there. Maintain your modesty and station,
And if my actions suit my song, So women shall preserve the nation.
You can't in conscience think me wrong.
believe my Visions true; (Few, who their diamonds value weigh, Thcy'll form your mind to ev'ry grace ; Expose thofe diamonds ev'ry day.)
They'll add new beauties to your face ; Then, if Sir Plume drew near, and smild, And when old age impairs your priine, The parent trembl’d for her child :
You'll triumph o'er the spoils of time. The first advance alarm'd her breast;
Childhood and youth engage my pen; And fancy piciur*d all the rest :
Tis labour lost to talk to men:
Were witness to her distant fivay.
The tyrant claim'd a mightier hoft
Than the proud Persian e'er could boast.
By his own numbers half undonc :
Success attended Slander's pow'r; Nor ends but with our setting fun;
She reap'd fresh laurels ev'ry hour. Which, like a noxious weed, can spoil
Her troops a deeper scarlet wore The fairest Row'rs, and choak the soil ?
Than ever armies knew before, 'Tis Slander-and, with thaine I own,
No plea diverts the fury's rage,
The fury spares nor sex nor age.
Provokes the vengeance of her arms.
Whene'er the tyrant sounds to war, Scorn the defamatory art ;
Her canker'd trump is heard afar. Thy foul afferts her native skies,
Pride, with a heart unknown to yield, Nor asks Detraction's wings to rise;
Commands in chief, and guides the field; In forcign spoils let others thine,
He stalks with vast gigantic ftride, Intrinsic excellence is thine.
And scatters fear and ruin wide : The bird in peacock's plumes who shone So the impetuous torrent sweep Could plead no merit of her own :
At once whole nations to the deep. The hilly theft betray'd lier pride ;
Revenge, that base Hesperian ||, known And spoke her poverty belide.
A chief support of Slander's throne, Th’insidious Nandering thief is worse Amidst the bloody crowd is feen, Than the poor rogue who ftcals your purse. And treach'ry brooding in his mien ; Sav, he purloins your glitt'ring store :
The monfter often chang'd his gait, Who takes your gold, takes trah—no more; But march'd resolv'd, and fix'd as fate : Perhaps he pilfers—to be fed
Thus the fell kite, whom hunger stings, Ah! guiltless wretch, who steals for bread! Now slowly moves his out-stretch'd wings; But the dark villain, who shall aim
Now fuift as lightning bears away, To blast, my fair, thy spotless name,
And darts apon his trembling prey. He'd steal a precious gem away,
Envy commands a sacred band, Steal what both Indies can't repay !
With sword and poison in her hand. Here the ftrong pleas of want are vain,
Around her haggard eye-balls roll; Or the more impious plcas of gain.
A thousand fiends poflefs her soul. No linking family to lave!
The artful unsuspected sprite, No gold to glut th’insatiate knave!
With fatal aim attacks by night. Improve the hint of Shakespeare's tongue; Her troops advance with silent tread, 'Twas thus immortal Shakespeare sung ** And stab the hero in his bed ; | And trut the hard's unerring rule;
Or shoot the wing'd malignant lye, For nature was that Poet's school.
And female honours pine and die. As I was nodding in my chair,
So prowling wolves, when darkness reigns, I saw a rueful wild appear :
Intent on murder, scour the plains ; No verdure met my aching right,
Approach the folds where lambs repose, But heinlock and cold aconite ;
Whole guileless breasts suspect no foes ; Two very pois'nous plants, 'tis truc,
The savage gluts his fierce defires, But not fo bad as vice to you.
And bleating innocence expires. The dreary prospect spread around!
Slander smil'd horribly, to view Deep Inow had whitend all the ground, How wide her conquests daily grew : A black and barren mountain nigh,
Around the crowded levees wait, Expos’d to ev'ry friendiefs íky!
Like oriental Naves of state ; Here foul-mouth'd Slander lav reclin'd; Of either sex whole armies preft, Her snaky tresses hiss'd behind;
But chicfly of the fair and best. • A bloated toad-stool rais'd her head;
Is it a breach of friendship's law, • The plumes of ravens were her bed * ;' To say what female friends I saw ? She fed upon the viper's brood,
Slander assume's the idol's part, And tlak'd her impious thirst with blood. And claims the tribute of the heart; • Othello.
+ Garth's Dispensatory. Xerxes, King of Persia, and son of Darius. He invaded Greece with an army confiling of more than a million of men i fume say more than two millions); who, together with their cattle, perished in a great measure through the inability of the countries to supply such a vast host with provision.
|| Heijeria includes Italy as well as Spain; and the inhabitants of both are remarkable for their revengful di peticions.