The Humorous Poetry of the English Language; from Chaucer to Saxe Part 53

Of happiness terrestrial, and the source Whence human pleasures flow, sing, heavenly Muse!

Of sparkling juices, of the enlivening grape, Whose quickening taste adds vigor to the soul, Whose sovereign power revives decaying nature, And thaws the frozen blood of h.o.a.ry Age, A kindly warmth diffusing;--youthful fires Gild his dim eyes, and paint with ruddy hue His wrinkled visage, ghastly wan before: Cordial restorative to mortal man, With copious hand by bounteous G.o.ds bestow'd!

Bacchus divine! aid my adventurous song, That with no middle flight intends to soar Inspir'd sublime, on Pegasean wing, By thee upborne, I draw Miltonic air.

When fumy vapors clog our loaded brows With furrow'd frowns, when stupid downcast eyes, The external symptoms of remorse within, Express our grief, or when in sullen dumps, With head inc.u.mbent on expanded palm, Moping we sit, in silent sorrow drown'd; Whether inveigling Hymen has trepann'd The unwary youth, and tied the gordian knot Of jangling wedlock not to be dissolv'd; Worried all day by loud Xantippe's din, Who fails not to exalt him to the stars, And fix him there among the branched crew (Taurus, and Aries, and Capricorn, The greatest monsters of the Zodiac), Or for the loss of anxious worldly pelf, Or Delia's scornful slights, and cold disdain, Which check'd his amorous flame with coy repulse, The worst events that mortals can befall; By cares depress'd, in pensive hippish mood, With slowest pace the tedious minutes roll, Thy charming sight, but much more charming gust, New life incites, and warms our chilly blood.

Straight with pert looks we raise our drooping fronts, And pour in crystal pure thy purer juice;-- With cheerful countenance and steady hand Raise it lip-high, then fix the s.p.a.cious rim To the expecting mouth:--with grateful taste The ebbing wine glides swiftly o'er the tongue; The circling blood with quicker motion flies: Such is thy powerful influence, thou straight Dispell'st those clouds that, lowering dark, eclips'd The whilom glories of the gladsome face;-- While dimpled cheeks, and sparkling rolling eyes, Thy cheering virtues, and thy worth proclaim.

So mists and exhalations that arise From "hills or steamy lake, dusky or gray,"

Prevail, till Phoebus sheds t.i.tanian rays, And paints their fleecy skirts with s.h.i.+ning gold; Unable to resist, the foggy damps, That vail'd the surface of the verdant fields, At the G.o.d's penetrating beams disperse!

The earth again in former beauty smiles, In gaudiest livery drest, all gay and clear.

When disappointed Strephon meets repulse, Scoff'd at, despis'd, in melancholic mood Joyless he wastes in sighs the lazy hours, Till reinforc'd by thy most potent aid He storms the breach, and wins the beauteous fort.

To pay thee homage, and receive thy blessing, The British seaman quits his native sh.o.r.e, And ventures through the trackless, deep abyss, Plowing the ocean, while the upheav'd oak, "With beaked prow, rides tilting o'er the waves;"

Shock'd by tempestuous jarring winds, she rolls In dangers imminent, till she arrives At those blest climes thou favor'st with thy presence.

Whether at Lusitania's sultry coast, Or lofty Teneriffe, Palma, Ferro, Provence, or at the Celtiberian sh.o.r.es, With gazing pleasure and astonishment, At Paradise (seat of our ancient sire) He thinks himself arrived: the purple grapes, In largest cl.u.s.ters pendent, grace the vines Innumerous: in fields grotesque and wild, They with implicit curls the oak entwine, And load with fruit divine his spreading boughs: Sight most delicious! not an irksome thought, Or of left native isle, or absent friends, Or dearest wife, or tender sucking babe, His kindly treacherous memory now presents; The jovial G.o.d has left no room for cares.

Celestial Liquor! thou that didst inspire Maro and Flaccus, and the Grecian bard, With lofty numbers, and heroic strains Unparallel'd, with eloquence profound, And arguments convictive, didst enforce Fam'd Tully, and Demosthenes renown'd; Ennius, first fam'd in Latin song, in vain Drew Heliconian streams, ungrateful whet To jaded Muse, and oft with vain attempt, Heroic acts, in flagging numbers dull, With pains essay'd; but, abject still and low, His unrecruited Muse could never reach The mighty theme, till, from the purple fount Of bright Lenaean sire, her barren drought He quench'd, and with inspiring nectarous juice Her drooping spirits cheer'd:--aloft she towers, Borne on stiff pennons, and of war's alarms, And trophies won, in loftiest numbers sings.

'Tis thou the hero's breast to martial acts, And resolution bold, and ardor brave, Excit'st: thou check'st inglorious lolling ease, And sluggish minds with generous fires inflam'st.

O thou! that first my quickened soul didst warm, Still with thy aid a.s.sist me, that thy praise, Thy universal sway o'er all the world, In everlasting numbers, like the theme, I may record, and sing thy matchless worth.

Had the Oxonian bard thy praise rehears'd, His Muse had yet retain'd her wonted height; Such as of late o'er Blenheim's field she soar'd Aerial; now in Ariconian bogs She lies inglorious, floundering, like her theme, Languid and faint, and on damp wing, immerg'd In acid juice, in vain attempts to rise.

With what sublimest joy from noisy town, At rural seat, Lucretius retir'd: Flaccus, untainted by perplexing cares, Where the white poplar and the lofty pine Join neighboring boughs, sweet hospitable shade, Creating, from Phoebean rays secure, A cool retreat, with few well-chosen friends, On flowery mead rec.u.mbent, spent the hours In mirth innocuous, and alternate verse!

With roses interwoven, poplar wreaths, Their temples bind, dress of sylvestrian G.o.ds!

Choicest nectarean juice crown'd largest bowls, And overlook'd the brim, alluring sight, Of fragrant scent, attractive, taste divine!

Whether from Formian grape depressed, Falern, Or Setin, Ma.s.sic, Gauran, or Sabine, Lesbian, or Coecuban, the cheering bowl Mov'd briskly round, and spurr'd their heighten'd wit To sing Mecaena's praise, their patron kind.

But we not as our pristine sires repair To umbrageous grot or vale; but when the sun Faintly from western skies his rays oblique Darts sloping, and to Thetis' wat'ry lap Hastens in p.r.o.ne career, with friends select Swiftly we hie to Devil,* young or old, *[Footnote: The Devil's Tavern, Temple Bar.]

Jocund and boon; where at the entrance stands A stripling, who with sc.r.a.pes and humil cringe Greets us in winning speech, and accent bland: With lightest bound, and safe unerring step, He skips before, and nimbly climbs the stairs.

Melampus thus, panting with lolling tongue, And wagging tail, gambols and frisks before His sequent lord, from pensive walk return'd, Whether in shady wood or pasture green, And waits his coming at the well-known gate.

Nigh to the stairs' ascent, in regal port, Sits a majestic dame, whose looks denounce Command and sovereignty: with haughty air, And studied mien, in semicircular throne Enclos'd, she deals around her dread commands; Behind her (dazzling sight!) in order rang'd, Pile above pile, crystalline vessels s.h.i.+ne: Attendant slaves with eager strides advance, And, after homage paid, bawl out aloud Words unintelligible, noise confus'd: She knows the jargon sounds, and straight describes, In characters mysterious, words obscure: More legible are algebraic signs, Or mystic figures by magicians drawn, When they invoke the infernal spirit's aid.

Drive hence the rude and barbarous dissonance Of savage Thracians and Croatian boors; The loud Centaurian broils with Lapithae Sound harsh, and grating to Lenaean G.o.d; Chase brutal feuds of Belgian skippers hence (Amid their cups whose innate temper's shown), In clumsy fist wielding scymetrian knife, Who slash each other's eyes, and blubber'd face, Profaning Baccha.n.a.lian solemn rites: Music's harmonious numbers better suit His festivals, from instruments or voice, Or Gasperani's hand the trembling string Should touch; or from the dulcet Tuscan dames, Or warbling Toft's far more melodious tongue, Sweet symphonies should flow: the Delian G.o.d For airy Bacchus is a.s.sociate meet.

The stair's ascent now gain'd, our guide unbars The door of s.p.a.cious room, and creaking chairs (To ear offensive) round the table sets.

We sit; when thus his florid speech begins: "Name, sirs! the wine that most invites your taste; Champaign, or Burgundy, or Florence pure, Or Hock antique, or Lisbon new or old, Bourdeaux, or neat French white, or Alicant."

For Bourdeaux we with voice unanimous Declare, (such sympathy's in boon compeers).

He quits the room alert, but soon returns, One hand capacious glistering vessels bears Resplendent, the other, with a grasp secure, A bottle (mighty charge!) upstaid, full fraught With goodly wine. He, with extended hand Rais'd high, pours forth the sanguine frothy juice, O'erspread with bubbles, dissipated soon: We straight to arms repair, experienc'd chiefs: Now gla.s.ses clash with gla.s.ses (charming sound!) And glorious Anna's health, the first, the best, Crowns the full gla.s.s; at her inspiring name The sprightly wine results, and seems to smile: With hearty zeal and wish unanimous, Her health we drink, and in her health our own.

A pause ensues: and now with grateful chat We improve the interval, and joyous mirth Engages our rais'd souls; pat repartee, Or witty joke, our airy senses moves To pleasant laughter; straight the echoing room With universal peals and shouts resounds.

The royal Dane, blest consort of the Queen, Next crowns the ruby'd nectar, all whose bliss In Anna's plac'd: with sympathetic flame, And mutual endearments, all her joys, Like to the kind turtle's pure untainted love, Center in him, who shares the grateful hearts Of loyal subjects, with his sovereign queen; For by his prudent care united sh.o.r.es Were sav'd from hostile fleets' invasion dire.

The hero Marlborough next, whose vast exploits Fame's clarion sounds; fresh laurels, triumphs new We wish, like those he won at Hockstet's field.

Next Devons.h.i.+re ill.u.s.trious, who from race Of n.o.blest patriots sprang, whose worthy soul Is with each fair and virtuous gift adorn'd, That shone in his most worthy ancestors; For then distinct in separate b.r.e.a.s.t.s were seen Virtues distinct, but all in him unite.

Prudent G.o.dolphin, of the nation's weal Frugal, but free and generous of his own.

Next crowns the bowl; with faithful Sunderland, And Halifax, the Muses' darling son, In whom conspicuous, with full l.u.s.ter, s.h.i.+ne The surest judgment and the brightest wit, Himself Mecaenas and a Flaccus too; And all the worthies of the British realm, In order rang'd succeed; such healths as tinge The dulcet wine with a more charming gust.

Now each his mistress toasts, by whose bright eye He's fired; Cosmelia fair, or Dulcibell, Or Sylvia, comely black, with jetty eyes Piercing, or airy Celia, sprightly maid!-- Insensibly thus flow unnumber'd hours; Gla.s.s succeeds gla.s.s, till the Dircean G.o.d s.h.i.+nes in our eyes, and with his fulgent rays Enlightens our glad looks with lovely dye; All blithe and jolly, that like Arthur's knights Of Rotund Table, fam'd in old records, Now most we seem'd--such is the power of Wine.

Thus we the winged hours in harmless mirth And joys unsullied pa.s.s, till humid Night Has half her race perform'd; now all abroad Is hush'd and silent, nor the rumbling noise Of coach, or cant, or smoky link-boy's call, Is heard--but universal silence reigns; When we in merry plight, airy and gay, Surpris'd to find the hours so swiftly fly, With hasty knock, or tw.a.n.g of pendant cord, Alarm the drowsy youth from slumbering nod: Startled he flies, and stumbles o'er the stairs Erroneous, and with busy knuckles plies His yet clung eyelids, and with staggering reel Enters confus'd, and muttering asks our wills; When we with liberal hand the score discharge, And homeward each his course with steady step Unerring steers, of cares and coin bereft.

ODE ON SCIENCE.

DEAN SWIFT.

O, heavenly born! in deepest dells If fairer science ever dwells Beneath the mossy cave; Indulge the verdure of the woods, With azure beauty gild the floods, And flowery carpets lave.

For, Melancholy ever reigns Delighted in the sylvan scenes With scientific light While Dian, huntress of the vales, Seeks lulling sounds and fanning gales Though wrapt from mortal sight

Yet, G.o.ddess, yet the way explore With magic rites and heathen lore Obstructed and depress'd; Till Wisdom give the sacred Nine, Untaught, not uninspired, to s.h.i.+ne By Reason's power redress'd.

When Solon and Lycurgus taught To moralize the human thought Of mad opinion's maze, To erring zeal they gave new laws, Thy charms, O Liberty, the cause, That blends congenial rays.

Bid bright Astraea gild the morn, Or bid a hundred suns be born, To hecatomb the year; Without thy aid, in vain the poles, In vain the zodiac system rolls, In vain the lunar sphere.

Come, fairest princess of the throng; Bring sweet philosophy along, In metaphysic dreams: While raptured bards no more behold A vernal age of purer gold, In Heliconian streams.

Drive thraldom with malignant hand, To curse some other destined land.

By Folly led astray: Ierne bear on azure wing; Energic let her soar, and sing Thy universal sway.

So when Amphion bade the lyre To more majestic sound aspire, Behold the mad'ning throng, In wonder and oblivion drowned, To sculpture turned by magic sound, And petrifying song.

A LOVE SONG, IN THE MODERN TASTE.

DEAN SWIFT.

Fluttering spread thy purple pinions Gentle Cupid, o'er my heart: I a slave in thy dominions; Nature must give way to art.

Mild Arcadians, ever blooming, Nightly nodding o'er your flocks, See my weary days consuming All beneath yon flowery rocks.

Thus the Cyprian G.o.ddess weeping Mourned Adonis, darling youth; Him the boar, in silence creeping, Gored with unrelenting tooth.

Cynthia, tune harmonious numbers; Fair Discretion, string the lyre: Soothe my ever-waking slumbers: Bright Apollo, lend thy choir.

Gloomy Pluto, king of terrors, Arm'd in adamantine chains, Lead me to the crystal mirrors, Watering soft Elysian plains.

Mournful cypress, verdant willow, Gilding my Aurelia's brows, Morpheus, hovering o'er my pillow, Hear me pay my dying vows.

Melancholy smooth Meander, Swiftly purling in a round, On thy margin lovers wander, With thy flowery chaplets crown'd.

Thus when Philomela drooping, Softly seeks her silent mate, See the bird of Juno stooping; Melody resigns to fate.

BAUCIS AND PHILEMON.