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Certes," quoth he," I cannot well deny, But dreams are short; for as I thought to lay That you in many things may hope to please : My limbs at ease upon the flowry ground, You force a barbarous northern tongue to ply,
And drink, with greedy ear, what he might say. And bend it to your purposes with ease;
As murm'ring waters sweet, or music's sound; Though rough as Albion's rocks, and hoarser
My sleep departed; and I, waking, found than her seas.
Myself again by Fortha's pleasant stream. “ Nor are your tales, I wot, so loosely yok'd, Homewards I stepp'd, in meditation drown'd,
As those which Colin Clout I did tell before; Reflecting on the meaning of my dream : Nor with description crowded so, and chok'd, Which let each wiglit interpret as hiin best doti
Which, thinly spread, will always please the
Colin, I wot, was rich in Nature's store ;
EARL OF LAUDERDALE.
blowing, Are mine; most part, at least : I might demand, under great obligations without being able to
make suitable returns: all that can be done in Might claim them, as a crop of my own this case is, to acknowledge the debt, which
sowing, And leave but few, thin scatter'd o'er the land: (though it does not entitle to an acquittance)
is looked upon as a kind of compensation, being A claim so just, I wot, you could not well with
all that gratitude has in its power. stand.”
This is in a peculiar manner my situation with “ Certes,” quoth 1, "that justice were full hard, respect to your lordship. What you have done
Which me alone would sentence to restore ; for me with the most uncommon favour am When many a learned sage, and many a bard, condescension, is what I never shall be able to
Are equally your debtors, or much more. repay ; and therefore have used the freedom to
Let Tityrus 3 himself produce his store, recominend the following performance to your Take what is thine, but little will remain : protection, that I might have an opportunity of Little, I wot, and that indebted sore
acknowledging my obligations in the most public To Ascra's bard 4, and Arethusa's swains; And others too beside, who lent him many a strain. It is evident that the world will hardly allow " Nor could the inodern bards afford to pay,
my gratitude upon this occasion to be disioterWhose songs exalt the champions of the Cross: ested. Your distinguished rank, the additional Take from each hoard thy sterling gold away,
honours derived from the lustre of your ancese And little will remain but worthless dross. tors, your own uncoirmon abilities, equally Not bards alone could ill support the loss ;
adapted to the service of your country in peace But sages too, whose theft suspicion shuund:
and in war, are circumstances sufficient to make E'en that sly Greek", who steals and hides so
any author ambitious of your lordship’s patronclose,
age. But I must do myself the justice to insist, Were half a bankrupt, if he should refund.
it is upon the account of distinctions less splenWhile these are all forborn, shall I alone be did, though far more interesting (those, I mean, dunn'd."
by which you are distinguished as the friend of
human nature, the guide and patron of uneares He smild ; and from his wreath, which well rienced youth, and the father of the poor), that
[were clad, I am zealous of subscribing myself, Such boon, the wreath with which his locks Pluck'd a few leaves to hide my temples bare ;
your lordship's The present I receiv'd with heart full glad.
most humble, and “ Henceforth,” quoth I, “ I nevershall be sad ;
most devoted servant, For now I shall obtain my share of fame :
WILLIAM WILKIK Nor will licentious wit, or envy bad, With bitter taunts, my verses dare to blame : This garland shall protect them, and exalt my name."
THE YOUNG, LADY AND THE
Ye deep philosophers who can
Say, is there any point so nice, greatest imitators of Homer.
As that of offering an advice?
To bid your friend his errours mend,
All this the looking glass achiev'd, Is almost certain to offend :
Its threats were minded and believ'd. Thongh you in softest terms advise,
The maid, who spurn dat all advice, Confess him good; admit bim wise ;
Grew tame and gentle in a trice. In vain you sweeten the discourse,
So when all other means had fail'd, He thinks you call him fool, or worse ;
The silent monitor prevail'd. You paint his character, and try
Thus, fable to the human-kind If he will own it, and apply.
Presents an image of the mind; Without a name reprove and warn :
It is a mirror where we spy Here none are hurt, and all may learn.
At large our own deformity, This too must fail, the picture shown,
And learn of course those faults to mend, No man will take it for his own.
Which but to mention would offend.
THE KITE AND THE ROOKS,
You say 'tis vain in verse or prose Most all that shall attempt to teach,
To tell what ev'ry body knows, Admonish, satyrize, or preach?
And stretch invention to express Yes, there is one, an ancient art,
Plain truths which all men will confess: By sages found to reach the heart,
Go on the argument to mend, Ere science with distinctions nice
Prove that to know is to attend, Had fixt what virtue is, and vice,
And that we ever keep in sight Inventing all the various names
What reason tells us once is right : On which the moralist declaims :
Till this is done you must excuse They wou'd by simple tales advise,
The zeal and freedom of my Muse, Which took the hearer by surprise ;
In hinting to the human-kind Alarm'd his conscience, unprepar'd,
What few deny but fewer mind: Ere pride had put it on its guard;
There is a folly which we blame, And made him from himself receive
'Tis strange that it should want a name, The lessons which they meant to give.
For sure no other finds a place That this device will oft prevail,
So often in the human race; And gain its end, when others fail,
I mean the tendency to spy If any shall pretend to doubt,
Our neighbour's faults with sharpen'd eye, The tale which follows makes it out.
And make his lightest failings known, There was a little stubborn dame
Without attending to our own. Whom do authority could tame,
The prude, in daily use to vex Restive by long indulgence grown,
With groundless censure half the sex, No will she minded but her own :
Of rigid virtue, honour nice, At triftes oft she'd scold and fret,
And much a foe to every vice, Then in a corner take a seat,
Tells lies without remorse and shame, And sourly moping all the day,
Yet never thinks herself to blame. Disdain alike to work or play.
A scriv'ner, though afraid to kill, Papa all softer arts bad try'd,
Yet scruples not to forge a will; And sharper remedies apply'd;
Abhors the soldier's bloody feats, But both were vain, for every course
While he as freely damns all cheats, He took still made her worse and worse,
The reason's plain, 'tis not his way "Tis strange to think how female wit,
To lie, to cozen and betray. So oft shou'd make a lucky hit,
But tell me if to take by force, When man with all his bigh pretence
Is not as bad at least, or worse. To deeper judgment, sounder sense,
The pinip who owns it as his trade Will ert, and measures false pursue
To poach for letchers, and be paid, "Tis very strange I own, but true.
Thinks himself honest in his station, Mama observ'd the rising lass,
But rails at rogues that sell the nation: By stealth retiring to the glass,
Nor would he stoop in any case, To practise little airs unseen,
And stain his honour for a place. In the true genius of thirteen :
To mark this errour of mankind On this a deep design she laid
The tale which follows is design'd. To tame the humour of the maid ;
A fight of rooks one harvest morn Contriving like a prudent mother
Had stopt upon a field of corn, To make one folly cure another.
Just wben a kite, as authors say,
Was passing on the wing that way:
His honest heart was fill'd with pain,
To see the farmer lose his grain, That it might show her how deform'd
So lighting gently on a shock She look'd, and frightful when she storm'd;
He thus the føragers bespoke.
“ Believe me, sirs, you're much to blame, And warp her, as she priz'd her beauty, To bend her bumour to her duty.
,Tis strange that neither fear nor sbame
And answering from amidst the flock
For sure it indicates a mind
Can keep you from rour usual way
While vice, though seemingly approv'd, Of stealth, and pilt'ring ev'ry day.
Is coldly flatter'd, never lov'd. No sooner has th' industrious swain
Palemon once a story told, His field turu’d up and sow'd the grain,
Which by conjecture must be old : But ye come flocking on the wing,
I bare a kind of half conviction Prepar'd to snatch itere it spring :
That at the best 'tis but a fiction ; And after all his toil and care
But taken right and understood, Leave every furrow spoild and hare:
The moral certainly is good. If aught escapes your greedy bills,
A shepherd swain was wont to sing Which purs'd by summer grows and fills,
The infant beauties of the spring, 'Tis still your prey: and though ye know
The bloom of summer, winter boar, No rook did ever till or sow,
The autumn ricb in various store; Ye boldly reap, without regard
And prais'd in numbers strong and clear
The Ruler of the changeful year. To justice, industry's reward,
To human themes he'd next descend, And use it freely as your own,
The shepherd's harmless life commend, Though men and cattle shou'd get none.
And prove him happier than the great I never did in any case
With all their pageantry and state: Descend to practises so base;
Who oft for pleasure and for wealth, Though stung with hunger's sharpest pain,
Exchange their innocence and health ; I still have scorn'd to touch a grain,
The Muses listen’d to his lays Even when I had it in my pow'r,
And crown'd him as he sung with bays. To do 't with safety every hour :
Euterpe, goddess of the lyre, For, trust me, nought that can be gain'd
A harp bestow'd with golden wire : Is worth a character unstain'd."
And oft you'd teach him how to sing, Thus with a face austerely grave
Or touch with art the trembling stringt Harangu'd the hypocrite and knave;
His fame o'er all the mountains flew,
And to his cot the shepherds drew; A rook with indignation spoke.
They heard his music with delight, “What has been said is strictly true,
Whole summer days from morn to night: Yet comes not decently from you;
Nor did they ever think him long,
Such was the magic of his song: From selfish passions inore than blind,
Some rural present each prepar'd, To miss your greater crimes, and quote
His skill to honour and reward; Our lighter failings thus by rote.
A flute, a sheep-hook, or a lamb I must confess we wrong the swain,
Or kidliog follow'd by its dam: Too oft by pilf'ring of his grain :
For bards it seeins in earlier days, But is our guilt like yours, I pray,
Got something more than empty praise. Who rob and murder every day?
All this continu'd for a while, No harmless bird can mount the skies
But soon our songster chang'd his style, But you attack him as he flies;
Infected with the common itch, And when at eve he lights to rest,
His gains to double and grow rich :
Or fondly seeking new applause, The husbandman who seems to share
Or this or t'other was the cause; Ko large a portion of your care,
One thing is certain, that his rhymes Say, is he ever off his gaard,
Grew more obsequious to the times, While you are hov'ring o'er the vard?
Less stiff and formal, alter'd quite He knows too well your usual tricks,
To what a courtier calls polite, Your ancient spite to tender chicks,
Whoe'er grew rich, by right or wrong, And that yod, like a felon, watch
Became the hero of a song: For something to surprise and snatch.”
No nymph or shepherdess could wedi At this rebuke so just, the kite
But he must sing the nuptial bed, Surpris'd, abash'd, and silenc'd quite,
And still was ready to recite And prov'd a villain to his face,
The secret transports of the night,
In strains too luscious for the ear
No more the shepherds sought his seet,
But in their place, a horned crowd
Of satyrs flock'd from every wood, Let every bard who seeks applause
Drawn by the magic of his lay, Be true to virtue and her cause,
To dance, to frolie, sport and play. Nor ever try to raise his fame
The goddess of the lyre disdain'd By praising that which merits blame,
To see her sacred gift profan'd, The vain attempt he needs must rue,
And gliding swiftly to the place, For disappointment will ensue.
With indignation in her face, Virtue with her superior charms
The trembling shepherd thus address'd,
In awful majesty confess'd,
“'Thou wretched fool, that harp resign,
You stoop and snatch him from his nest,
In spite of all the stars that bum, It was not given you to inspire
Primeval darkness wou'd return: A herd like this with loose des re,
They're less and dimmer, one may see, Nor to assist that venal praise
Besides much farther off than we; Which rice may purchase, if it pays:
And therefore thro' a long descent Such offices my lyre disgrace;
Their light is scatter'd quite and spent : Here take this bag-pipe in its place.
While ours, corapacter and at hand, 'Tis fitter far, believe it true,
Keeps night and darkness at a stand, Both for these miscreants and you."
Diffus'd around in many a ray, The swain dismay'd, without a word,
Whose brightness emulates the day."
This pass'd and more without dispute,
But soon the east began to glow
With light appearing from below,
And level from the ocean's streams
The Moon emerging shot her beains. When ignorance possess'd the schools,
To gild the mountains and the woods, And reign'd by Aristutle's rules,
And shake and glitter on the foods. Ere Verulam, li e dawning light,
The glowworm, when he found his light Rose to dispel the Gothic night:
Grow pale and faint and vanish quite A man was taught to shut his eyes,
Before the Moon's prevailing ray, And grow abstracted to be wise.
Began his envy to display. Nature's broad volume fairly spread,
"That globe," quoth he, “which seems so fair, Where all true science might be read
Which brightens all the Earth and air, The wisdom of th’ Eternal Mind,
And sends its beams so far abroad, Declar'd and publish'd to mankind,
Is nought, believe me, but a cloi ; Was quite neglected, for the whims
A thing which, if the Sun were gone, Of mortals and their airy dreams :
Has no more light in't than a stone', By narrow principles and few,
Subsisting merely by supplies By hasty maxims, oft untrue,
From Phoebus in the nether skies: By words and phrases ill-defiu'd,
My light indeed, I must confess, Evasive truth they hop'd to bind;
On some occasions will be less; Which still escap'd them, and the elves
But spite itself will hardly say At last caught nothing but themselves.
I'm debtor for a single ray; Nor is this folly modern quite,
'Tis all my own, and on the score Tis ancient too: the Stagirite
Of merit, mounts to ten times more Improv'd at first, and taught his school
Than any planet can demand By rules of art to play the fool.
For light dispens’d at second hand.” Ex'n Plato, from example bad,
To hear the paltry insect boast, Would oft turn sophist and run mad;
The grasshopper all patience lost. Make Socrates himself discourse
Quoth he, My friend, it may be so, Like Clarke and Leibnitz, oft-times worse;
The Moon with borrow'd light may glow; 'Bout quirks and subtilties contending,
That your faint glimin’ring is your own, Bevond all human comprehending.
I think, is question'd yet by none : From some strange bias men pursue
But sure the office to collect False knowledge still in place of true,
The solar brightness and reflect, Build airy systems of their own,
To catch those rays that would be spent This moment rais'd, the next pull'd down ;
Quite useless in the firmament, While few attempt to catch those rays
And turn them downwards on the shado Of truth which nature still displays
Which absence of the Sun has made, Throughout the universal plan,
Amounts to more in point of merit From moss and mushrooms up to man.
Than all your tribe did e'er inherit: This sure were better, but we hate
Oft by that planet's friendly ray To borrow when we can create;
The midnight trav'ler finds bis way; And therefore stupidly prefer,
Safe by the favour of her beams, Our own conceits, by which we err,
'Midst precipices, lakes and streams; To all the wisdom to be gain'd
While you inislead him, and your light, From nature and her lawsexplain'd.
Seen like a cottage-lamp by night, One ev'ning when the Sun was set,
With hopes to find a safe retreat, A grasshopper and glowworm met
Allures and tempts him to his fate: Upon a biliock in a dale,
As this is so, I veeds mus: call As Mab the fairy tells the tale.
The merit of your light but small : Vain and conceited of his spark,
You need not boast on't though your own; Which brightend as the night grew dark,
'Tis light indeed, but worse than none; The shining reptile swellid with pride
Unlike to what ihe Moon supplies,
Which you call borrow'd, and despise. "
Quoth he, “ If glowworms never shone,
I traverse all the house and play THE APE, THE PARROT, AND THE My tricks and gambols ev'ry day! JACKDAW.
Oft with my mistress in a chair
I ride abroad to take the air; I hold it rash at any time
Make visits with her, walk at large, To deal with fools dispos'd to rhyme ;
A maid or footman's constant charge. Dissuasive arguments provoke
Yet this is noth ng, for I find Their urmest rage as soon as spoke :
Myself still hamper'd and confind; Encourage them, and for a day
A grov'ling thing : I fain would rise
Above the Earth and mount the skies:
This feat with greatest ease can do.
To that gay creature turn about The common lot of those who flatter:
That's beating on the pane without; But can a scribbler, sir, be shunn'd?
Ten days ago, perhaps but five, What will you do when teas'd and gunn'd ? A worm, it scarcely seemd alive: When watchd, and caught, and closely press'd, By threads suspended, tough and small, When complimented and caress'd,
Midst dusty cobwebs on a wall; When Ravius greets you with a bow,
Now dress'd in all the diff'rent dyes “Sir, please to read a line or two ;"
That vary in the ev’ning skies, If you approve and say they're clever,
He soars at large, and on the wing “ You make me happy, sir, for ever.”
Enjoys with freedom all the spring; What can be done the case is plain,
Skims the fresh lakes, and rising secs No methods of escape remain :
Ber sath him far the loftiest trees; You're fairly noos'd, and must consent
And when he rests, he makes his bow'r To bear, what nothing can prevent,
The cup of some delicious flow'r. A coxcomb's anger; and your fate
Shall creatures so obscurely bred, Will be to suff-s soon or late.
On mere corruption nurs'd and fed, Ap ape that was the sole delight
A glorious privilege obtain, Of an old woman day and night,
Which I can never hope to gain ? Indulg'd at table and in bed,
Shall I, like man's imperial race Attended like a child and fed :
Jn manners, customs, shape and face, Who knew each trick, and twenty more
Expert in all ingenious tricks, Than ever monkey play'd before,
To tumble, dance, and leap o'er sticks; At last grew franțic and wou'd try,
Who know to sooth and coax my betters, In spite of nature's laws, to fly.
And match a beau, at least in letters; Oft from the window wou'd he view
Shall I despair, and never try The passing swallows as they flew,
(What meanest insects can) to fly ? Observe them fluttering round the walls, Say, mayn't Į without dread or care Or gliding o'er the smooth canals :
At once commit me to the air, He too must fly, and cope with these;
And not fall down and break my bones For this and nothing else wou'd please:
Upon those hard and finty stones? Oft thinking from the window's height,
Say, if to stir my limbs before Three stories down to take his flight:
Will make me glide along or soar? He still was something loth to venture,
All things they say are learn'd by trying As tending strongly to the centre :
No doubt it is the same with flying. And knowing that the least mistake
I wait your judgment with respect, Might cost a limb, perhaps his neck.
And shall proceed as you direct." The case you'll own was something nice;
Poor Poll, with gen’rous pity inov'd, He thought it best to ask advice;
The Ape's fond rashness thus reprov'd: And to the parrot straight applying,
For, though instructed by mankind, Allow'd to be a judge of flying,
Her tongue to candour still inclin'd. He thus began : “ You'll think me rude,
* My friend, the privilege to rise Forgive me if I do intrude,
Above the Earth and mount the skies, For you alone my doubts can clear
Is glorious sure, and 'tis my fate In something that concerns me near :
To feel the want on't with regret; Do you injagine, if I try,
A pris'ner to a cage confin'd, That I shall e'er attain to fly?
Though wing'd and of the flying kind. The project's whimsical, no doubt,
With you the case is not the same, But ere you censure hear me out:
You 're quite terrestrial by your frame,
And shou'd be perfectly content
You have no wings, I pray reflect,
To lift you and your course direct; This you must know, who for an age
Those arms of yours will never do, Have been kept pris'ner in a cage,
Not twenty in the place of two; Deny'd the privilege to soar
They ne'er can lift you from the ground, With boundless freedom as before.
For broad and long, they're thick and round; I have,'tis true, much greater scope
And therefore if you choose the way, Than you my friend, can ever hope ;
To leap the window, as you say,