Classic Poem

Would you know the life that is fair and free?
Climb the downs, and gaze o'er the open sea,
See you the schooner at anchor there,
And the black flag, strange in the sunny air?
That is the bark of the pirate king,
And this is the song the pirates sing:
" We scuttle a galleon every day,
And the blue sea washes the stains away;
Can drowned men rise from sleep? "

Yesterday morning, rank on rank
They stood, while a doomed man walked the plank.
Soon only a bubble marked the spot,
But the light-heart pirates heeded not;
They danced on deck, and they laughed and sang
Till the ship's old timbers echoed and rang —
" Though the deck run red with the signs of the fray,
The sea can wash all stains away,
And we are the lords of the deep.

" Men think they love, on the dull state shore;
We love, where the billows plunge and roar.
We take our pick of the captured girls;
Some like black tresses, some love gold curls;
We take our pick, and the rest we drown,
And they tumble after their sweethearts down
To the blue clear depths of the Indian bay,
And the tide will carry them right away
While their sisters wail and weep.

" Then under the trees, if ever we land,
Close to the waves on the golden sand,
We spread for ourselves a royal feast;
The wine shall flow for a night at least!
And there by the firelight on the shore
Our jolly old chorus loud we roar,
" Will the waves betray us? Nay, nay, nay!
For the sea can wash all stains away,
Though the prisoners die in a heap.

" One of the captured girls we crown —
The one with the eyes of lovely brown,
She sorrowed at first. She is reconciled,
And there isn't a pirate heart more wild.
Bride she shall be of the pirate king,
And her bright red laughing lips shall sing
" When the sea-king speaks the waves obey,
And they wash the blood of his foes away,
And their bones the green depths keep." "

That is the life that is fair and free —
So the pirates think — on the fair blue sea.
But if ever a king's ship spies them out
They must sharpen their cutlas-blades, no doubt,
For the king's stout sailors will harry them then
And their one last chance is to die like men,
Die in a frenzy, fierce and gay,
And the sea will wash their blood away,
And the waves will over them leap.

While you, dear Paulus , sacrifice your rest,
To plead in noisy courts for worth distress'd;
Or, bold in senates for the public cause,
Revive our injur'd country's dying laws;
Watch o'er the growth of pow'r with zealous eye,
And unexcis'd preserve our liberty:
From all the vanities of life retir'd
To Cam 's fair banks, where Spenser lay inspir'd,
I read with rapture Homer 's sacred page,
Whose strong description glows with martial rage.
Whose nervous lines, with wisdom fraught, impart
Those virtues, which adorn or mend the heart;
With greater force the moral rules explain,
Than Whitfield 's cant, or Clarke 's pathetic strain.
But, lest you think this doctrine too severe,
My reasons, Paulus , if at leisure, hear.
Fair Helen 's charms, that kindled fierce desire
In Paris' breast, and set the world on fire,
For ever bloom in his immortal strains,
Whose fable with such energy contains
The zeal of foolish monarchs mad with pride,
The mob's wild tumult, like a rapid tide.

Antenor his dear country's fate deplor'd,
And said the fatal fair should be restor'd;
But peevish Paris , obstinately wrong,
Detain'd the blooming theme of Homer 's song.
The sage of Pylos eloquently show'd,
What dire effects from civil discord flow'd.
From love's soft passion equal evil springs,
To the rash violence of lawless kings.
All the foul vices of an earthly God
Prove to the meanest slave an iron rod.
Sedition, dark deceit, and burning lust,
Corruption, violence, and breach of trust,
On courtier, citizen, and templar seize,
And spread o'er all the land the rank disease.
Again Ulysses' bright example tells,
What good in wisdom, and in virtue dwells;
Who left Troy 's smoaking ruins to explore
The men and manners of a distant shore;
Rough toil encounter'd with a steady soul,
Which pleasure could not melt, nor fear controul.
You know the fable of the syren's strain,
And Circe 's feast, that charm'd the thoughtless train;
But, had her soothing arts allur'd his soul
To taste the banquet, or partake the bowl,
The sage had dwindled to as low a thing,
As G — — h in senates, or some modern king.
But we seem mortals of another race,
The sons of luxury, contempt, disgrace;
Soft as Phaeacian fops, who turn'd their care
To mend a feature, or adjust a hair:
Mere pimps, and revellers of Comus' court,
Where beaux' in muffs, fools, parasites resort;
All the lewd tribe of prodigals undone,
Who, steep'd in vice, sleep down a summer's sun,
And by soft music, languishingly slow,
Detain the drowsy God from realms below.
Shall dark assassins, for a golden prize,
Amidst the sable gloom of night arise?
And will no danger break your calm repose,
No friend's misfortune, or your country's woes?
Nor e'en that high regard, which patriots feel
For Vernon 's safety, and the public weal!
When no malignant fever fires the brain,
And health luxuriant revels in each vein,
Tho' sunk in sloth, from all diseases free,
In dropsies, you will run to Reeve or Lee .
Soon as Aurora dawns, some book peruse,
That treats of subjects pleasing, yet of use!
To charm each wand'ring thought from envy's rage,
Or love, that tyrant o'er our blooming age.
What'er offends the fight we shun with haste,
And shall the mind's disease for ever last?
Dare to begin, and half your work is done:
Plain reason tells us what to seek, or shun.
Whoe'er delays to live by reason's rule,
Waits on the river's bank, like nature's fool;
With visionary hope, like courtiers fed,
He thought the stream would leave its ouzy bed;
But still the sacred spring for ever glides
Thro' flow'ry meadows, with revolving tides.
Wealth, beauty, children, are the joys of life,
That make each mortal happy in a wife:
Patient of cold we tame the stubborn plain,
And pant beneath the noon-tide heat for gain.
Why should we wish for more? If fortune grants
That competence, which modest nature wants:
Except that Godlike pleasure to bestow
On friends who sink beneath a weight of woe.
Not all the splendor, which the world admire,
The pride of life, each object of desire,
From burning fevers can preserve their lord,
Or to the wounded spirit ease afford.
Still W — — e 's conscience throbs beneath a star,
And shakes his fabric with intestine war;
Our country's wrongs sit heavy on his breast,
And, like Macbeth , his guilt has murder'd rest;
Exalted on the top of fortune's wheel,
He wants that peace, which men of virtue feel.
Wealth is but vain, if gout, or stone annoy;
'Tis health alone that gives us to enjoy.
Who live dependant slaves to hope or fear,
To them life's greatest blessings will appear
As Kneller 's pictures to a German race,
Or Ward 's specific in a gouty case!
To such Belinda 's melody of voice,
With Handel 's music, seems a grating noise.

In vain philosophers their rules define,
Except their pupils breathe a soul divine.
Youth's fleeting pleasures leave a sting behind;
And want eternal racks the miser's mind.
With bold rebuke each wild desire restrain,
Nor let another's bliss create your pain.
No tyrant can a greater plague invent.
Than restless envy, foe to calm content.
Who lets each sudden gust of passion rise,
And, like a tempest, mingles earth and skies;
Thro' various scenes, some rash exploit will mourn,
And trace repentant sorrow to his urn.
Rage is a short-liv'd madness, that requires
The firmest curb to check its warm desires;
So strong an impulse can no medium have,
But reigns a tyrant, or becomes a slave.
Who knows with skill the fiery steed to rule,
While young, will train his spirit in the school;
And tender hounds their infant voices try,
Before they join the chorus of the cry.

Now, in the bloom of your untainted youth,
Imbibe the precepts of unerring truth!
Such early principles will ever last,
Like season'd vessels that preserve the taste
Of their first tincture; but if you remain
Supinely slothful, and the prize disdain,
Or rush impetuous o'er the dusty plain;
I will not emulate the glorious strife,
But save my distance in the course of life.