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Laurence Whyte, “The Inchantment. A Tale”

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LAURENCE WHYTE

“The Inchantment. A Tale”

In nova sert animus mutatas dicere Formas
Corpora.                                                               Ovid.        

‘Tis thine, O Muse! to sing or set a Song,
To spin a Tale, to make it short or long,
To give a Flow of Thoughts, with Numbers sweet,
That Sense and Metre in each stanza meet,
And from the Chaos of Imaginations,                                                5
To range Ideas in their proper stations.
Lo! here is Matter void of Spleen or Gall,
With all the Humours, innocent as Paul,
Who by his Stars, alas! was used so scurvy,
To be inchanted and turned topsy turvy,                                          10
Who, metamorphos’d, flew away astonish’d;
Then stood corrected, lectur’d, and admonish’d,
Be thou, O Muse! propitious to our Tale,
To help us out, when Wit and Humour fail.
Two Mendicants of late, with open Palms,                                  15
Came to a Pastry school to seek for Alms;
The Elder was a Graduate in the Trade,
The Younger was as bashful as a Maid,
But strong enough to bear a heavy Sack,
To lift and toss it on his humble Back;                                                20
Was sent abroad a Novice with his Brother,
For they must learn the Trade from one another.
The Elder on the threshold fixt his Toes,
And thus harangu’d the Ladies thro’ the Nose!
“Can you afford us Flour, Meal, or Paste,                                             25
Which you so often throw away and waste,
The welfare of your Souls be your Concern,
And Charity’s a Lesson you shou’d learn.”
Bless us, O Lord! Quoth they, pray who is that,
That comes to beg, new clad, so sleek and fat?                                 30
For by his Voice it shou’d be F—r Paul,
Not he indeed says one, no not at all,
For he’s a shotten Herring, thin and meagre,
The next degree in Colour to a Neagre,
Or something like it, of Mollotto Hue,                                                   35
Down right Egyptian, or a wand’ring Jew.
Quoth he, “you’re not mistaken in the Man,
He did, some Years ago, look thin and wan,
By too long fasting, watching, Midnight Pray’rs,
By Pilgrimage, and Study, many Years;                                                  40
Old Age at length got him a writ of Ease,
From these hard Duties, in declining Days,
Now he’s grown Young, ‘tis well you see him thrive,
But to St. F—s, pray what will you give,
’Tis true we’re glad to see you plump and full,                                    45
But how can you, from Kids, or Goats get Wool,
’Tis strange that you shou’d wander from your Road,
Who has been us’d so long to beg abroad,
If on that Errand now you come to crave,
Instead of Pence, we’ll give you what we have,                                   50
And though we cannot fill a Sack or Sieve,
Our flour in handfuls thus we freely give.”
The Elder they attack’d in front and rear,
The poor young Novice comes in for his Share,
Both were half choak’d and blinded in the strife,                               55
The coal black Wig was powder’d to the Life.
No Millers whiter, all from Head to Toe,
Nor did they know which way to turn or go;
Amaz’d a while, and mute as any Post,
They stood like Statues, gastly as a Ghost,                                            60
When they recover’d from that silent Trance,
Paul shook his Head–“I have it all at once!
’Tis all Inchantment,—-all we see are Fairies,
Or else they cou’d not not play such wild Fegaries,
There! there! you see the little Fairy Queen,                                        65
With golden Locks, her Gown and Mantle green,
Dress’d in her Silks—-a Vengance light upon her,
The rest you see, are Nymphs, her Maids of Honour,
Dress’d up with Ribbons all so prim and gay,
Satan avoid!—-then touch them not I say,                                          70
We must not handle any Fairy Treasure,
Lest we incur St. F—-s his Displeasure,
For punishment he suffer’d us to stray,
And left those Imps to cross us in our Way,
Too sure I am, they’re not of human kind,                                          75
That cou’d by Magick Powder strike us blind.”
At length they groap’d, and scrambl’d from the Door,
Leaving behind,—their Blessings to be sure,
The Nymphs pursu’d and drudg’d them in their Flight,
And were so kind t’escorte them out of Sight,                                      80
They sent them off well roasted, and well basted,
When all their Ammunition was quite wasted,
When they beheld each other in his Plight,
And saw their Colour change from Grey to white,
They bless’d themselves, and thrice each other blest,                        85
And each, with lifted Eyes, thrice knock’d his Breast.
Quoth Paul, “I tremble lest that where we stand
Is still within the Bounds of Fairy Land,
Our Friends at home will scarce believe this Story,
But must allow it was our Purgatory,                                                     90
If they should say, ‘twas all a dream or Fancy,
Then by this Hand—-I’ll swear ‘twas Necromancy,
’Tis Satan’s Work,—-all Sorcery indeed!
From his Illusions let us fly with Speed.”
No yellow Dragoon from the Boyn cou’d run,                               95
So fast as these two Mendicants have done,
Until they got within the Convent Gate,
And all their strange Adventures did relate,
Whate’er was added, nothing was diminish’d,
For ev’ry Tale that travels is replenish’d.                                               100
To whom the Gu—n, laughing in his Sleeve,
“You don’t belong to Adam nor to E—-,
Can you expect to have admittance here,
This is no Colour for a Cordelier,
Now by that Hand, you on your Body bear,                                         105
(That favourite Oath which you so often swear,)
In Dom—k’s Livr’y here you shall not stay,
Go forth to B—street, without more Delay,
Not stand one Flash of Powder, without Ball,
You and that Novice have disgrac’d us all;                                            110
As for the Tale which you relate re vera,
’Tis all extracted from your own Chimera,
I hope it varies from the Truth a little,
But sure I am, it has not lost one Tittle.
Too long indeed to be exactly true,                                                       115
If so it is the better still for you;
There are such Things we call Deceptio Visus,
That doth sometimes deceive us, and surprize us,
Our Senses never are to be our Guide,
While Faith and Reason over them preside,                                         120
And if I must with you philosophize,
We are not always to believe our Eyes;
Some Men we find are govern’d by the Moon,
They seldom thrive, but often are undone,
Sure some unlucky Planet rul’d this Day,                                              125
Caus’d you to wander, and to run astray,
What Spirit drove you to those Fairy dances,
To change your Habit and forsake St. F—-s?”
What brought you there unless you were besotted,
’Twas well you were not pickl’d, bon’d or potted;                                 130
I wish they had anatomiz’d you there,
To string you up, as Geese and Wood-Cocks are;
Sure in your Looks, they cou’d not be mistaken,
Old Carron was not fit for Brawn, or Bacon,
You cou’d not bear being sous’d, or well preserv’d,                           135
To be dissected, collar’d up, or carv’d;
What can we say, when we sum up the whole,
They cou’d make nothing of you, Fish or Fowl;
For in the Battle you made no resistance,
And in your Flight you hardly sav’d your Distance,                              140
Then to conclude, we may with Reason say,
You’re neither fit to fight or run away,
Now, to your Cells retire, to fast and pray.

NOTES:

Epigraph “My mind inclines me to tell of bodies changed into new forms;” the opening lines of Ovid’s Metamorphoses.

7 Spleen “To regard with anger;” Gall “Bitterness” (OED).

8 Humours “In ancient and medieval physiology and medicine: any of four fluids of the body (blood, phlegm, choler, and so-called melancholy or black bile) believed to determine, by their relative proportions and conditions, the state of health and the temperament of a person” (OED).

13 propitious “Gracious; merciful, lenient” (OED).

15 Mendicant “A member of any of the Christian religious orders whose members originally lived solely on alms” (OED).

31 F–r Friar.

33 shotten Herring Figurative for “a person who is exhausted by sickness or destitute of strength or resources” (OED).

35 Mollotto “Mulatto; a person with one white and one black parent” (OED).

44 St. F—s Francis of Assisi (1181or 82-1226); Franciscans were mendicants, dependent on alms.

64 Fegaries Pranks (OED).

79 drudg’d Repressed (OED).

84 Grey to white “Qui Color ater erat nunc est contrarius atro” [Author’s note; “What once was black, is now the opposite” (Ovid, Metamorphoses, Book 2, line 541).]  Franciscan robes were grey or brown.

87 Quoth Paul “Heu fuge crudeles terras” [Author’s note; “O flee this cruel land” (Virgil, Aeneid, Book 3, line 46).]

92 Necromancy “Sorcery, witchcraft” (OED).

95 No yellow Dragoon from the Boyn cou’d run  A “dragoon” was “a species of cavalry soldier” that also fought on foot in this period (OED). More generally, Whyte appears to be referencing the cowardice of James II’s Irish soldiers during the Battle of the Boyne in 1690, many of whom deserted after the order to retreat.

101 Gu—-n Likely the guardsman of the “Convent Gate” (l. 97).

102 E—- Eve.

104 Cordelier “A Franciscan friar…so called from the knotted cord which they wear round the waist” (OED).

107 Dom–k’s Livr’y Dominican robes, which were white.

108 B—street Bridge St. The Dominicans had a “chapel on the east side of Bridge St.” in Dublin during this period (Nuala Burke, “A Hidden Church?: The Structure of Catholic Dublin in the Mid-Eighteenth Century,” Archivium Hibernicum, vol. 32 (1974), p. 82).

111 re vera “In truth.”

112 Chimera “A mere wild fancy; an unfounded conception” (OED).

114 Tittle “Any minute point” (OED).

117 Deceptio Visus “Deceptive vision.”

129 besotted “Mentally or morally stupid” (OED).

131 anatomiz’d Dissected (OED).

134 Brawn “The flesh of the boar” (OED).

135 sous’d “To prepare or preserve meat…by steeping in some kind of pickle, esp. one made with vinegar or other tart liquor” (OED).

SOURCE:  Original Poems on Various Subjects, Second Edition (Dublin, 1742), pp. 170-75. [Google Books]

Edited by Casey Ingham

William Farquhar, “Death, a Poem”

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WILLIAM FARQUHAR

 “Death, a Poem”

 

To dignify the trifles of their brain,
The Muses heavenly aid whilst some invoke;
Be it my task, in solemn verse, to paint
The gloomy horrors which attendant wait
On Death, their king, whose still insatiate scythe,                                         5
The young, the gay, the rich, the wise, cuts off.
Young as I am, my breast has felt the shock
His direful stroke can give; my second sire,
The dear, dear guardian of my infant years,
E’er yet his worth I knew, Death’s ruthless arm                                            10
Snatch’d from my eager grasp, and ever hid
In dark recess of the gloomy grave.
Far, far away, amid the burning plains
Of Florida, while yet a child, my sire
From me, from his lov’d family, retir’d!                                                           15
But while an Uncle’s fondness still remain’d,
Scarce could we feel our loss—Death! cruel Death!
How could you pierce that heart, where virtue join’d
With mild benevolence, still smil’d to view
The peace, the pleasure, of his fellow men.                                                  20
But hold, my Muse, the elegiac strain
Departed virtue scorns, her worth is grav’d
Deep in the mem’ry of all human kind.
The pompous column, and the bust, She scorns,
And, conscious of her innate power to please,                                             25
For deathless fame leans on herself alone.
Death, thou’rt the touch-stone of all human Virtue!
If, with a cowardly, an unmanly fear
We fly thy stroke, then ‘tis, alas! too certain
Some future ill our conscience bids us dread.                                              30
But if, with firmness, thy near approach
Unmov’d we can behold; then are we sure
Self-approbation can alone support us
In that dread awful moment! when thy dart
Has pierc’d our panting breast, to separate                                                  35
These dear companions, who so long have liv’d
In perfect unity, in perfect peace.
Into the grave, as useless lumber, drops
Then senseless carcase; and the soul swift wings
Back to her great original, her flight.                                                              40
Thro’ life’s wild scenes where’er I thoughtful turn
Far as my eye can reach, ‘tis tumult all,
And maddest opposition; foe meets foe
With discord dire, and jarring interests clash
Loud as thro’ heaven’s wide arch the thunders roar,                                   45
O man! vile man! how long deceiv’d by vice,
With senseless folly wilt thou devious stray,
In paths unpleasing to thy Maker’s eye?
Hear how he calls, invites thee to his breast,
And offers endless pleasures to thy grasp.                                                     50
Thus by his prophets spoke th’ Eternal’s voice:
“ Come to my bosom, ye who loudly groan
Beneath the burthen which tyrannic sin
Has o’er you whelm’d, behold me ever glad,
The worst, the basest, of your race to save.”                                                      55
And shall mankind the gracious offer spurn?
Forbid it, virtue, gratitude, and love!
Man, youngest child of heaven, full often needs
To feel his father’s kind afflictive rod,
Which wounds to heal, as the physician’s probe                                           60
May pain the patient, while it aids his cure.
Did not afflictions, thro’ life’s chequerd scene,
Walk with kind hand to warn us of our end;
Man would forget he were to die at all,
And scorn the terrors of the gloomy grave.                                                   65
Hope, with contracted wing, no more would mount
To the empyrean heaven for endless bliss;
But, stooping, snatch the empty joys of sense,
And quick contracting all her broad desires,
Sit down, contented with the scanty joys                                                      70
Which the vile empire of the brute confers.
See the warm youth, even in his rosy bloom,
When mounting blood and passion fire his breast,
Pierc’d by thy dart, drops cold and lifeless down,
And moulders in the murky silent grave.                                                      75
Behold the beauteous maid, whose rosy cheek
Charms and attracts the roving eye of youth;
While something whispers to her heaving breast,
That Nature gave not her these softening powers
Her crimson cheek, her ruby lip, in vain.                                                       80
Even in the moment, when her raptur’d soul
Clings to the bosom of some darling youth,
Death, with one cruel stroke, forever blasts
Love’s dawning bliss, and stretches her a corse,
A cold pale corse, amid her weeping friends!                                                85
To grasp her much lov’d son, the mother spreads
Her anxious arms,—behold! he faints, he dies!
And stiffens in the cold embrace of death!
See, how to heaven she sorrowing lifts her eyes!
See, how her bosom heaves, thick beats her heart                                       90
With anguish, with parental fondness torn!
How vain, how fleeting, are the joys of time!
How idly foolish he who leans upon them
For steady comfort, or for endless bliss!
Behold, at one dire stroke of death’s huge scythe,                                         95
Fathers and sisters, friends and lovers, fall!

NOTES:

14 Florida Reference to the territory of North America named after Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de Leon’s arrival in the area during the “season of flowers” (Britannica).

33 Self-approbation The feeling of self-satisfaction or “approval” (OED).

62 chequerd  “Diversified in character; full of constant alternation” (OED).

67 empyrean “The highest or most exalted part or sphere of heaven” (OED).

75 moulders “To decay to dust; to rot” (OED).

84 corse Archaic spelling of “corpse,” “a dead body” (OED).

 Source: William Farquhar, Poems on Several Occasions (Edinburgh, 1794), pp. 102-105. [Google Books]

 Edited by Joshua Navarro

Elizabeth Carter, “Thoughts at Midnight. 1739”

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ELIZABETH CARTER

“Thoughts at Midnight. 1739”

 

WHILE Night in solemn shade invests the Pole,
And calm reflection soothes the pensive soul;
While Reason undisturb’d asserts her sway,
And life’s deceitful colours fade away:
To thee! all-conscious presence!  I devote                                             5
This peaceful interval of sober thought.
Here all my better faculties confine,
And be this hour of sacred silence thine.
If by the day’s illusive scenes misled,
My erring soul from Virtue’s path has stray’d:                                       10
If by example snar’d, by passion warm’d,
Some false delight my giddy sense has charm’d,
My calmer thoughts the wretched choice reprove,
And my best hopes are center’d in thy love.
Depriv’d of this, can life one joy afford!                                                  15
Its utmost boast a vain unmeaning word.
But ah! how oft’ my lawless passions rove,
And break those awful precepts I approve!
Pursue the fatal impulse I abhor,
And violate the virtue I adore!                                                                   20
Oft’ when thy gracious Spirit’s guardian care
Warn’d my fond soul to shun the tempting snare,
My stubborn will his gentle aid represt,
And check’d the rising goodness in my breast,
Mad with vain hopes, or urg’d by false desires,                                      25
Still’d his soft voice, and quench’d his sacred fires.
With grief opprest, and prostrate in the dust,
Should’st thou condemn, I own the sentence just.
But oh thy softer titles let me claim,
And plead my cause by Mercy’s gentle name.                                        30
Mercy, that wipes the penitential tear,
And dissipates the horrors of despair:
From rig’rous Justice steals the vengeful hour:
Softens the dreadful attribute of power;
Disarms the wrath of an offended God,                                                   35
And seals my pardon in a Saviour’s blood.
All pow’rful Grace, exert thy gentle sway,
And teach my rebel passions to obey:
Lest lurking Folly with insidious art
Regain my volatile inconstant heart.                                                         40
Shall ev’ry high resolve devotion frames,
Be only lifeless sounds and specious names?
Or rather while thy hopes and fears controul,
In this still hour each motion of my soul,
Secure its safety by a sudden doom,                                                         45
And be the soft retreat of sleep my tomb.
Calm let me slumber in that dark repose,
‘Till the last morn its orient beam disclose:
Then, when the great Archangel’s potent sound,
Shall echo thro’ Creation’s ample round,                                                  50
Wak’d from the sleep of Death, with joy survey
The op’ning splendors of eternal day.

NOTES:

1 Pole “The sky, the heavens” (OED).

2 pensive “Implying thought, anxiety, or melancholy” (OED).

9 illusive scenes “Deceptive; illusory” (OED).

13  reprove “To censure, condemn” (OED).

16 Its The copy test reads “It’s,” a printer’s error.

17 rove “Waver, vacillate” (OED).

31 penitential tear “Indicative of repentance” (OED).

40 volatile “Changeable, fickle” (OED).

48 orient beam disclose The rising of the sun (OED); its The copy text reads “it’s,” a printer’s error.

49 the great Archangel’s potent sound A reference to a Christian tradition (more literary than Biblical) that has the archangel Gabriel blowing a trumpet or horn to wake the dead and announce the return of Jesus on Judgment Day (S. Vernon McCasland, “Gabriel’s Trumpet,” Journal of Bible and Religion, vol. 9, no. 3 [August 1941], pp. 159-161).

Source: Memoirs of the Life of Mrs. Elizabeth Carter: With a New Edition of Her Poems; to Which Are Added, Some Miscellaneous Essays In Prose, Together With Her Notes On the Bible, And Answers to Objections Concerning the Christian Religion, ed. Rev. Montagu Pennington. (London, 1808), vol. II, pp. 37-39.  [Google Books]

Edited by Heyzell Raudes

Francis Maria Cowper, “The Retrospect”

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 FRANCES MARIA COWPER

“The Retrospect”

 

Come, Holy Spirit, love divine,
Thy cleansing power impart;
Each erring thought and wish refine,
That wanders near my heart.
There let thy quickening breezes blow,                                           5
Thine influences be,
Such as revive thy hidden-ones,
And lift their souls to Thee.

Thro’ dark’ning rains and theat’ning storms
My little bark doth ride:                                                              10
O save me from the fatal wreck
Of Sin’s devouring tide.
By past corrections humbled still,
Let no vain passion start,
Within the consecrated veil                                                                15
Of a believer’s heart.

Oft hast thou cast me to the ground,
O’erwhelm’d with grief and pain;
Yet hath thy pitying hand restor’d,
And led me forth again;                                                               20
Forth from the shade of sullen woe,
From darkness and dismay;
And o’er my anguish pour’d the sweet
Consolatory ray.

O Lord! how mingled was thy love                                                    25
In all my deep distress!
Thou gav’st the knowledge of thy word,
That gift of sovereign grace!
And shall my peevish heart regret
The momentary pain,                                                                   30
That follows on departed joys
In life’s contracted span?

Time’s little inch, that steals away
With every fleeting breath,
And points to an eternity                                                                     35
Beyond the reach of Death.
Enough, my soul, enough of Time,
And Time’s uncertain things;
Farewell that busy hive, the world,
And all its thousand stings.                                                          40

As feathers on the passing stream,
Our earthly pleasures move;
And transient as the evening beam,
That gilds the verdant grove.
To other climes, to other skies,                                                          45
My lifted soul aspires:
Thither my wandering thoughts ascend,
And all my best desires.

Awhile I strive, awhile I mourn,
‘Midst thorns and briers here;                                                      50
But God vouchsafes with love divine
My drooping heart to cheer.
Though meaner than the meanest saint,
My heavenly Guide I see;
I hear a voice behind me say,                                                                55
“That Jesus died for me.”

NOTES:

15 consecrated veil “To the human body as a sacred vessel for the soul; Christ’s body considered as concealing or clothing his divinity” (OED).

21 sullen woe “Gloomy and heavy occurrence(s) of distress, misfortune or grief” (OED).

27 gav’st “Of a higher power, esp. of the Deity; to bestow” (OED).

29 peevish “Petulant; irritable; hard to please” (Johnson).

44 verdant grove A green group of trees.

45 climes “Region, realm” (OED).

50 briers “A prickly thorny bush or shrub in general, formerly including the bramble, but now usually confined to wild rose bushes” (OED).

51 vouchsafes “Sense relating to conferring or bestowing, especially graciously (by God)” (OED).

Source: Original Poems, on Various Occasions (London, 1792), pp. 25-27.  [Google Books]

Edited by Juliana Guerrero

William Whitehead, “The Enthusiast. An Ode”

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William Whitehead

“The Enthusiast. An Ode”

 

Once, I remember well the day,
‘Twas ere the blooming sweets of May
Had lost their freshest hues,
When every flower on every hill,
In every vale, had drank its fill                                                 5
Of sun-shine, and of dews.

In short, ‘twas that sweet season’s prime
When Spring gives up the reins of time
To Summer’s glowing hand,
And doubting mortals hardly know                                        10
By whose command the breezes blow
Which fan the smiling land.

‘Twas then beside a green-wood shade
Which cloath’d a lawn’s aspiring head
I urg’d my devious way,                                                      15
With loitering steps regardless where,
So soft, so genial was the air,
So wond’rous bright the day.

And now my eyes with transport rove
O’er all the blue expanse above,                                                20
Unbroken by a cloud!
And now beneath delighted pass,
Where winding through the deep-green grass
A full-brim’d river flow’d.

I stop, I gaze; in accents rude                                                      25
To thee, serenest Solitude,
Bursts forth th’ unbidden lay;
Begone, vile world; the learn’d, the wise,
The great, the busy I despise,
And pity ev’n the gay.                                                            30

These, these are joys alone, I cry;
‘Tis here, divine Philosophy,
Thou deign’st to fix thy throne!
Here Contemplation points the road
Thro’ Nature’s charms to Nature’s God!                                     35
These, these are joys alone!

Adieu, ye vain low-thoughted cares,
Ye human hopes, and human fears,
Ye pleasures, and ye pains! —-
While thus I spake o’er all my soul                                               40
A philosophic calmness stole,
A Stoic stillness reigns.

The tyrant passions all subside,
Fear, anger, pity, shame and pride
No more my bosom move;                                                   45
Yet still I felt, or seem’d to feel
A kind of visionary zeal
Of universal love.

When lo! a voice! a voice I hear!
‘Twas Reason whisper’d in my ear                                               50
These monitory strains:
What mean’st thou, man? would’st thou unbind
The ties which constitute thy kind,
The pleasures and the pains?

The same Almighty Power unseen,                                              55
Who spreads the gay or solemn scene
To Contemplation’s eye,
Fix’d every movement of the soul,
Taught every wish its destin’d goal,
And quicken’d every joy.                                                         60

He bids the tyrant passions rage,
He bids them war eternal wage,
And combat each his foe:
Till from dissentions concords rise,
And beauties from deformities,                                                    65
And happiness from woe.

Art thou not man, and dar’st thou find
A bliss which leans not to mankind?
Presumptuous thought, and vain!
Each bliss unshar’d is unenjoy’d,                                                  70
Each power is weak, unless employ’d
Some social good to gain.

Shall light, and shade, and warmth, and air,
With those exalted joys compare
Which active virtue feels,                                                        75
When on she drags, as lawful prize,
Contempt, and Indolence, and Vice,
At her triumphant wheels.

As rest to labour still succeeds,
To man, while Virtue’s glorious deeds                                         80
Employ his toilsome day,
This fair variety of things
Are merely life’s refreshing springs
To sooth him on his way.

Enthusiast go, unstring thy lyre,                                                   85
In vain thou sing’st if none admire,
How sweet soe’er the strain.
And is not thy o’erflowing mind,
Unless thou mixest with thy kind,
Benevolent in vain?                                                                 90

Enthusiast go; try every sense,
If not thy bliss, thy excellence
Thou yet hast learn’d to scan;
And least thy wants, thy weakness know;
And see them all uniting show                                                     95
That man was made for man.

 NOTES:

Title Enthusiast “One who vainly imagines a private revelation; one of a hot imagination, or violent passions” (Johnson).

15 devious “Following a winding or erratic course; rambling, roving” (OED).

25 accents “The way in which anything is said or sung; a modulation or modification of voice expressing feeling” (OED); rude “Artless; inelegant” (Johnson).

37 low-thoughted Thought lowly of; pointless or worthless.

40 spake Archaic past tense of “speak.”

42 Stoic “Greek school of philosophy; one who practices repression of emotion, indifference to pleasure or pain, and patient endurance” (OED).

51 monitory “Conveying a warning” (OED).

Source: Poems on Several Occasions, with the Roman Father, A Tragedy (London, 1754) pp. 87-91. [Google Books]

Edited by Elyot Cotter

Phillis Wheatley, “To the University of Cambridge, in New-England”

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PHILLIS WHEATLEY

 “To the University of CAMBRIDGE, in NEW-ENGLAND.”

 

While an intrinsic ardor prompts to write,
The muses promise to assist my pen;
’Twas not long since I left my native shore,
The land of errors, and Egyptian gloom:
Father of mercy, twas thy gracious hand                                         5
Brought me to safety from those dark abodes.

Students, to you ‘tis giv’n to scan the heights
Above, to traverse the ethereal space,
And mark the systems of revolving worlds.
Still more, ye sons of science ye receive                                           10
The blissful news by messengers from heav’n,
How Jesus blood for your redemption flows.
See him with hands out-stretcht upon the cross;
Immense compassion in his bosom glows;
He hears revilers, nor resents their scorn:                                       15
What matchless mercy in the Son of God!
When the whole human race by sin had fall’n,
He deign’d to die, that they might rise again,
And share with him in the sublimest skies,
Life without death, and glory without end.                                        20

Improve your privileges while they stay,
Ye pupils, and each hour redeem, that bears
Or good or bad report of you to heav’n.
Let sin, that baneful evil to the soul,
By you be shunn’d, nor once remit your guard;                                 25
Suppress the deadly serpent in its egg.
Ye blooming plants of human race divine,
An Ethiop tells you ‘tis your greatest foe;
Its transient sweetness turns to endless pain,
And in immense perdition sinks the soul.                                            30

NOTES:

 Title   Harvard University, named after benefactor John Harvard (1607-1638), was established
in 1637 in Newetowne, MA, renamed “Cambridge” in 1638 (harvard.edu).

 1  ardor   “Enthusiasm or passion” (OED).

 2   muses   “The nine goddesses regarded as presiding over and inspiring learning and the arts, esp. poetry and music,” daughters of the Greek god Zeus and Mnemosyne, the goddess of memory (OED).

18  deigned   “Beneath one’s dignity” (OED).

21  improve   “Profit from” (OED).

24  baneful   “Harmful, destructive” (OED).

26  deadly serpent  Alluding to the serpent in The Garden of Eden, from the book of
Genesis (Genesis 3:14, King James Bible).

28  Ethiop  “From Latin Aethiops, Ethiopian, negro” (OED).

30  perdition   Eternal damnation, hell (OED).

Source: Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral (London, 1773), pp. 15-16. [archive.org]

Edited by Vivian Barbulescu

Hannah More, “The Plum-Cakes; or The Farmer and His Three Sons”

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HANNAH MORE

 “The Plum-Cakes; or The Farmer and His Three Sons”

 

A farmer who some wealth possessed,
With three fine boys was also blessed;
The lads were healthy, stout, and young,
And neither wanted sense nor tongue.
Tom, Will, and Jack, like other boys,                                                       5
Lov’d tops and marbles, sport and toys.
The father scouted that false plan,
That money only makes the man;
But, to the best of his discerning,
Was bent on giving them good learning.                                               10
He was a man of observation,
No scholar, yet had penetration;
So with due care a school he sought,
Where his young sons might well be taught.
Quoth he, “I know not which rehearses                                                 15
Most properly his themes or verses,
Yet I can do a father’s part,
And school the temper, mind, and heart;
The natural bent of each I’ll know,
And trifles best that bent may show.”                                                     20

‘Twas just before the closing year,
When Christmas holidays were near,
The farmer call’d to see his boys,
And ask how each his time employs.
Quoth Will, “There’s father, boys, without;                                             25
He’s brought us something good, no doubt.”
The father sees their merry faces,
With joy beholds them and embraces:
“Come, boys, of home you’ll have your fill.”
“Yes, Christmas now is near,” says Will;                                                  30
“‘Tis just twelve days – these notches see,
My notches with the days agree.”
“Well,” said the sire, “again I’ll come,
And gladly fetch my brave boys home;
You two the dappled mare shall ride,                                                    35
Jack mount the pony by my side.
Meantime, my lads, I’ve brought you here,
No provision of good cheer.”
Then from his pocket straight he takes
A vast profusion of plum-cakes;                                                              40
He counts them out a plenteous store,
No boy shall have or less or more:
Twelve cakes he gives to each dear son,
When each expected only one;
And then, with many a kind expression,                                               45
He leaves them to their own discretion:
Resolv’d to mark the use each made
Of what he to their hands convey’d.

The twelve days past, he comes once more,
And brings the horses to the door;                                                        50
The boys with rapture see appear
The pony and the dappled mare;
Each moment now an hour they count,
And crack their whips, and long to mount.
As with the boys his ride he takes,                                                          55
He asks the history of the cakes.
Says Will, “Dear father, life is short,
So I resolv’d to make quick sport;
The cakes were all so nice and sweet,
I thought I’d have one jolly treat.                                                            60
‘Why should I balk,’ said I, ‘my taste?
I’ll make at once a hearty feast.’
So, snugly by myself I fed,
When every boy was gone to bed;
I gorg’d them all, both paste and plum,                                                65
And did not waste a single crumb:
Indeed they made me, to my sorrow,
As sick as death upon the morrow;
This made me mourn my rich repast,
And wish I had not fed so fast.”                                                              70
Quoth Jack, “I was not such a dunce,
To eat my quantum up at once;
And though the boys all long’d to clutch ‘em,
I would not let a creature touch ‘em;
Nor, though the whole were in my power,                                           75
Would I myself one cake devour.
Thanks to the use of keys and locks,
They’re all now snug within my box;
The mischief is, by hoarding long,
They’re grown so mouldy and so strong,                                             80
I find they won’t be fit to eat,
And I have lost my father’s treat.”

“Well, Tom,” the anxious parent cries
“How did you manage?” Tom replies,
“I shunned each wide extreme to take,                                               85
To glut my maw, or hoard my cake;
I thought each day its wants would have,
And appetite again might crave.
Twelve school-days still my notches counted,
To twelve my father’s cakes amounted;                                              90
So every day I took out one,
But never ate my cake alone;
With every needy boy I shared,
And more than half I always spared.
One every day, ‘twixt self and friend,                                                   95
Has brought my dozen to an end.
My last remaining cake to-day
I would not touch, but gave away;
A boy was sick, and scarce could eat,
To him it proved a welcome treat.                                                       100
Jack called me spendthrift, not to save;
Will dubbed me fool, because I gave;
But when our last day came I smiled,
For Will’s were gone, and Jack’s were spoiled.
Not hoarding much, nor eating fast,                                                   105
I served a needy friend at last.”
These tales the father’s thoughts employ:
“By these,” said he, “I know each boy.
Yet Jack, who hoarded what he had,
The world will call a frugal lad;                                                              110
And selfish, gormandizing Will,
Will meet with friends and favorers still;
While moderate Tom, so wise and cool,
The mad and vain will deem a fool;
But I his sober plan approve,                                                                 115
And Tom has gained his father’s love.”

APPLICATION.

So when our day of life is past,
And all are fairly judged at last,
The miser and the sensual find
How each misused the gifts assigned;                                                120
While he who wisely spends and gives,
To the true ends of living lives.
‘Tis self-denying moderation
Gains the great Father’s approbation.

NOTES:

Title First published anonymously, under the same title, in 1796; “signed at the end: Z., i.e. Hannah More” (ESTC, T42504).

31 notches A groove or incision made into a wooden stick to track the passing of days.

40 plum-cake “A cake containing raisins, currants, and often orange peel and other candied fruits” (OED).

61 balk “To waste or throw away a good chance” (OED).

69 repast “Food, nourishment; supply of food” (OED).

71 dunce “One who shows no capacity for learning” (OED).

72 quantum “The actual amount or quantity of something present, available, etc.” (OED).

86 glut “To overload or surfeit with food” (OED); maw “The mouth of a greedy person” (OED).

95 ‘twixt “Betwixt; archaic form of ‘between’” (OED).

101 spendthrift “One who spends profusely” (OED).

111 gormandizing “To eat like a glutton; to feed voraciously” (OED).

Source: Cheap Repository Tracts: Entertaining, Moral, and Religious, vol. I (New York, 1840?) pp. 99-103.

Edited by Jessica M. Fuentes

John Pomfret, “A Pastoral Essay on the Death of Queen Mary, Anno, 1694”

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JOHN POMFRET

 “A Pastoral Essay on the Death of Queen Mary, Anno, 1694”

 

As gentle STREPHON to his Fold convey’d
A wand’ring Lamb, which from the Flocks had stray’d
Beneath a mournful Cypress Shade, he found
COSMELIA weeping on the dewy Ground.
Amaz’d with eager Haste, he ran to know                                               5
The fatal Cause of her intemp’rate Woe;
And clasping her to his impatient Breast,
In these soft Words his tender Care exprest

STREPHON.

Why mourns my dear COSMELIA, why appears
My Life, my Soul, dissolv’d in briny Tears?                                               10
Has some fierce Tyger thy lov’d Heifer slain,
While I was wand’ring on the neighb’ring Plain?
Or has some greedy Wolf devour’d thy Sheep?
What sad Misfortune makes COSMELIA weep?
Speak, that I may prevent thy Grief’s Increase;                                       15
Partake thy Sorrows, or restore thy Peace.

COSMELIA.

Do you not hear from far that mournful Bell?
‘Tis for —– I cannot the sad Tydings tell.
O, whither are my fainting Spirits fled!
‘Tis for CAELESTIA—STREPHON, O, —she’s dead!                                    20
The brightest Nymph, the Princess of the Plain,
By an untimely Dart, untimely slain.

STREPHON.

Dead! ‘tis impossible. She cannot die,
She’s too Divine, too much a Deity:
‘Tis a false Rumour some ill Swains have spread,                                     25
Who wish perhaps the good CAELESTIA dead.

COSMELIA.

Ah! No, the Truth in ev’ry Face appears,
For ev’ry Face you meet’s o’erflow’d with Tears.
Trembling, and pale, I ran thro’ all the Plain,
From Flock to Flock, and ask’d of ev’ry Swain;                                            30
But each, scarce lifting his dejected Head,
Cry’d O, COSMELIA! O, CAELESTIA dead!

STREPHON.

Something was meant by that ill-boading Croak
Of the prophetick Raven from the Oak,
Which strait by Lightning was in Shivers broke:                                          35
But we our Mischief feel, before we see,
Seiz’d and o’erwhelm’d at once with Misery.

COSMELIA.

Since then we have no Trophies to bestow,
No pompous Things to make a glorious Show,
(For all the Tribute a poor Swain can bring,                                                  40
In Rural Numbers, is to mourn and sing;)
Let us beneath the gloomy Shade rehearse
CAELESTIA’s sacred Praise in no less sacred Verse.

STREPHON.

CAELESTIA dead! then ‘tis in vain to live:
What’s all the Comfort that these Plains can give                                        45
Since she, by whose bright Influence alone
Our Flocks increas’d, and we rejoic’d, is gone.
Since she, who round such Beams of Goodness spread
As gave new Life to ev’ry Swain, is dead.

COSMELIA.

In vain we wish for the delightful Spring.                                                 50
What Joys can flow’ry May, or April bring,
When she, for whom spacious Plains were spread
With early Flow’rs, and cheerful Greens, is dead?
In vain did courtly DAMON warm the Earth,
To give to Summer Fruits a Winter Birth.                                                        55
In vain we Autumn wait, which crowns the Fields
With wealthy Crops, and various Plenty yields:
Since that fair Nymph, for whom the boundless Store
Of Nature was preserv’d, is now no more.

STREPHON.

Farewel for ever then to all that’s gay:                                                       60
You will forget to sing, and I to play.
No more with cheerful Songs in cooling Bow’rs
Shall we consume the pleasurable Hours.
All Joys are banish’d, all Delights are fled,
Ne’er to return, now fair CAELESTIA’s dead.                                                     65

COSMELIA.

If e’er I sing, they shall be mournful Lays
Of great CAELESTIA’s Name, CAELESTIA’s Praise:
How good she was, how generous, how wise!
How beautiful her Shape, how bright her Eyes!
How charming all, how she was ador’d,                                                             70
Alive; when dead, how much her loss deplor’d!
A noble Theme, and able to inspire
The humblest Muse with the sublimest Fire.
And since we do of such a Princess sing,
Let ours ascend upon a stronger Wing;                                                             75
And while we do the lofty Numbers join,
Her Name will make their Harmony Divine.
Raise then thy tuneful Voice, and be the Song
Sweet as her Temper, as her Virtue strong.

STREPHON.

When her great Lord to foreign Wars was gone,                                       80
And left CAELESTIA here to rule alone,
With how serene a Brow, how void of Fear
When Storms arose, did she the Vessel steer?
And, when the Raging of the Waves did cease,
How gentle was her Sway in times of Peace?                                                     85
Justice and Mercy did their Beams unite,
And round her Temples spread a glorious Light.
So quick she eas’d the Wrongs of ev’ry Swain,
She hardly gave them Leisure to complain.
Impatient to reward, but slow to draw                                                                 90
Th’ avenging Sword of necessary Law:
Like Heav’n, she took no pleasure to destroy:
With Grief she punish’d, and she sav’d with Joy.

COSMELIA.

When God-like BELLEGER from War’s Alarms
Return’d in Triumph to CAELESTIA’s Arms,                                                         95
She met her Hero with a full Desire,
But chaste as Light, and vigorous as Fire:
Such mutual Flames, so equally Divine,
Did in each Breast with such a Lustre shine,
His could not seem the greater, her’s the less:                                                  100
Both were immense, for both were in Excess.

STREPHON.

O, God-like Princess! O, thrice-happy Swains!
While she presided o’er the fruitful Plains;
While she for ever ravish’d from our Eyes,
To mingle with her Kindred of the skies,                                                             105
Did for your Peace her constant Thoughts employ;
The Nymph’s good Angel, and the Shepherd’s Joy.

COSMELIA.

All that was Noble beautify’d her Mind;
There Wisdom sat, with solid Reason join’d;
There too did Piety, and Greatness wait,                                                            110
Meekness on Grandeur, Modesty on State:
Humble amidst the Splendors of a Throne;
Plac’d above all, and yet despising none.
And when a Crown was forc’d on her by Fate,
She with some pain submitted to be Great.                                                       115

STREPHON.

Her pious Soul with Emulation strove
To gain the mighty PAN’s important Love:
To whose mysterious Rites she always came,
With such an active, so intense a Flame,
The Duties of Religion seem’d to be                                                                     120
Not more her Care, than her Felicity.

COSMELIA.

Virtue unmixt, without the least Allay,
Pure as the Light of a Celestial Ray,
Commanded all the Motions of the Soul,
With such a soft, but absolute Controul,                                                             125
That as she knew what best great PAN would please,
She still perform’d it with the greatest Ease.
Him for her high Exemplar she design’d,
Like him, benevolent to all Mankind.
Her Foes she pity’d, not desir’d their Blood,                                                       130
And to revenge their Crimes, she did them good:
Nay, all Affronts, so unconcern’d she bore,
(Maugre that violent Temptation, Pow’r,)
As if she thought it vulgar to resent,
Or wish’d Forgiveness their worst Punishment.                                                135

STREPHON.

Next mighty PAN, was her illustrious Lord,
His high Vicegerent, sacredly ador’d:
Him with such Piety and Zeal she lov’d,
The noble Passion ev’ry Hour improv’d.
Till it ascended to that glorious Height,                                                              140
‘Twas next, (if only next) to infinite.
This made her so entire a Duty pay,
She grew at last impatient to obey,
And met his Wishes with as prompt a Zeal,
As an Archangel his Creator’s Will.                                                                       145

COSMELIA.

Mature for Heav’n, the fatal Mandate came,
With it, a Chariot of Etherial Flame,
In which, Elijah like, she pass’d the Spheres;
Brought Joy to Heav’n, but left the World in Tears.

STREPHON.

Methinks I see her on the Plains of Light,                                                     150
All Glorious, all incomparably Bright!
While the immortal Minds around her gaze
On the excessive Splendour of her Rays,
And scarce believe a human Soul could be
Endow’d with such a stupendous Majesty.                                                           155

COSMELIA.

Who can lament too much? O, who can mourn
Enough o’er beautiful CAELESTIA’s Urn!
So great a Loss as this deserves Excess
Of Sorrow; all’s too little, that is less.
But to supply the Universal Woe,                                                                           160
Tears from all Eyes, without Cessation flow:
All that have pow’r to weep, or voice to groan,
With throbbing Breast CAELESTIA’s fate bemoan:
While Marble Rocks the common Griefs partake,
And eccho back those Cries they cannot make.                                                   165

STREPHON.

Weep then (once fruitful) Vales, and spring with Yew;
Ye thirsty barren Mountains, weep with Dew.
Let ev’ry Flow’r on this extended Plain
Not droop, but shrink into its Womb again,
Ne’er to receive anew its yearly Birth;                                                                     170
Let ev’ry thing that’s grateful, leave the Earth:
Let mournful Cypress, with each noxious Weed,
And baneful Venoms in their place succeed.
Ye purling quer’lous Brooks, o’ercharg’d with Grief
Haste swiftly to the Sea for more Relief;
Then tiding back, each to his sacred Head,                                                            175
Tell your astonish’d Springs, CAELESTIA’s dead:

COSMELIA.

Well have you sung, in an exalted Strain,
The fairest Nymph e’er grac’d the British Plain.
Who knows but some officious Angel may
Your grateful Numbers to her Ears convey:                                                           180
That she may smile upon us, from above,
And bless our mournful Plains with Peace and Love.

STREPHON.

But see, our Flocks do to their Folds repair,
For Night with sable Clouds obscures the Air,
Cold Damps descend from the unwholesome Sky,                                              185
And Safety bids us to our Cottage fly.
Tho’ with each Morn our Sorrows will return,
Each Ev’n, like Nightingales, we’ll sing and mourn,
Till Death conveys Us to the peaceful Urn.

NOTES:

1 Strephon Stock pastoral name for a shepherd; Fold “A pen or enclosure for domestic animals, esp. sheep” (OED).

3 Cypress “A well-known coniferous tree…often regarded as symbolic of mourning” (OED).

4   Cosmelia Pastoral name for a woman.

20 Caelestia Pomfret’s poetical name for Queen Mary II, from “Caelestis” which means sky or heavenly (A Latin Dictionary).

20-22 “she’s dead!…untimely slain” Queen Mary II died on 28 December 1694 from smallpox.

25 Swains “Countrymen” (OED).

41 Rural Numbers That is, rural poetry.

54 Damon Stock pastoral name.

80 to foreign Wars was gone William III, Mary’s husband, was often gone handling affairs on the continent and left Mary to rule alone (Encyclopedia Britannica).

94 Belleger Pomfret’s poetical name for William III; in modern Dutch the word translates as “investor;” from War’s Alarms William III fought and squashed a Jacobite rebellion on the continent, and participated in the Nine Years’ War (1688-1697) against Louis XIV of France (Encyclopedia Britannica).

114-15 when a Crown was forced on her…submitted to be Great The Glorious Revolution of 1688 deposed James II, Mary’s father. As a result of her supporting her husband William invading England, Mary and her father were estranged (Encyclopedia Britannica).

117 Pan The god of nature.

121 Felicity Happiness (OED).

133 Maugre “To defy, oppose” (OED).

137 Vicegerent “A person appointed by a king or other ruler to act in his place or exercise certain of his administrative functions” (OED).

145 Archangel “An angel of the highest rank” (OED).

148 Elijah A prophet who defended the worship of the Jewish God; in 2 Kings 2:1-11, Elijah is transported to heaven by a whirlwind.

166 Yew An ancient tree common in England; often planted in churchyards and symbolic of funerary and death.

Source: Poems upon Several Occasions, 7th edition (London, 1727), p. 48. [Hathi Trust]

Edited by Ceneca Jackson

 

 

 

 

Phillis Wheatley, “On Virtue”

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PHILLIS WHEATLEY

 “On Virtue”

 

O Thou bright jewel in my aim I strive
To comprehend thee. Thine own words declare
Wisdom is higher than a fool can reach.
I cease to wonder, and no more attempt
Thine height t’explore, or fathom thy profound.                                                        5
But, O my soul, sink not into despair,
Virtue is near thee, and with gentle hand
Would now embrace thee, hovers o’er thine head.
Fain would the heav’n-born soul with her converse,
Then seek, then court her for her promis’d bliss.                                                       10

Auspicious queen, thine heav’nly pinions spread,
And lead celestial Chastity along;
Lo! Now her sacred retinue descends,
Array’d in glory from the orbs above.
Attend me, Virtue, thro’ my youthful years!                                                                 15
O leave me not to the false joys of time!
But guide my steps to endless life and bliss.
Greatness, or Goodness, say what I shall call thee,
To give me an higher appellation still,
Teach me a better strain, a nobler lay                                                                          20
O thou, enthron’d with Cherubs in the realms of day!

NOTES

7 Virtue “A quality of people, divine beings” (OED).

9 fain “Glad, rejoiced, well-pleased” (OED).

11 pinions “The wing of a bird in flight” (OED).

12 Chastity “Purity from unlawful sexual intercourse; continence” (OED).

18 Greatness “Innate nobility or dignity,…grandeur” (OED); Goodness “The quality of being morally good; virtue; worthiness” (OED).

21 Cherubs Angels.

Source: Poems on Various Subjects, Religious and Moral (London, 1773), pp. 13-14. [Archive.org]

Edited by Joseph R. Adams

William Hamilton, “The Wish”

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WILLIAM HAMILTON

 “The Wish”

If join’d to make up virtue’s glorious tale,
A weak, but pious aid can aught avail,
Each sacred study, each diviner page
That once inspired my youth, shall sooth my age,
Deaf to ambition, and to interest’s call;                                                        5
Honour, my titles, and enough, my all;
No pimp of pleasure, and no slave of state,
Serene from fools, and guiltless of the great,
Some calm and undisturb’d retreat I’ll chuse
Dear to myself and friends. Perhaps the muse                                          10
May grant, while all my thoughts her charms imploy,
If not a future fame, a present joy,
Pure from each feverish hope, each weak desire;
Thoughts that improve, and slumbers that inspire,
A steadfast peace of mind, rais’d far above                                                 15
The guilt of hate and weakness of Love
Studious of life, yet free from anxious care,
To others candid, to myself severe,
Filial, submissive to the sovereign will,
Glad of the good, and patient of the ill,                                                         20
I’ll work in narrow sphere, what heaven approves,
Abating hatreds, and increasing loves,
My friendship, studies, pleasures, all my own
Alike to envy, and to fame unknown:
Such in form blest asylum let me ly,                                                               25
Take off my fill of life, and wait, not wish to dy.

NOTES:

 3 diviner “Given by or proceeding from God; having the sanction of or inspired by God” (OED).

19 Filial “Of sentiments, duty, etc.: due from a child to a parent” (OED).

25 asylum “A benevolent institution affording shelter and support to some class of the afflicted, the unfortunate, the destitute” (OED).

Source: Poems on Several Occasions (Bangor 1760), pp. 95-96. [Google Books]

Edited by Haley Walker