Classic Poem

When genial beams wade thro' the dewy morn,
And from the clod invite the sprouting corn;
When chequer'd green, wing'd music, new-blown scents,
Conspir'd to soothe the mind, and please each sense;
Then down a shady haugh I took my way,
Delighted with each flow'r and budding spray;
Musing on all that hurry, pain, and strife,
Which flow from the fantastic ills of life.
Enlarg'd from such distresses of the mind,
Due gratitude to heav'n my thoughts refin'd,
And made me, in the laughing sage's way,
As a mere farce the murm'ring world survey;
Finding imagin'd maladies abound
Tenfold for one which gives a real wound.

Godlike is he whom no false fears annoy,
Who lives content, and grasps the present joy;
Whose mind is not with wild convulsions rent,
Of pride, and avarice, and discontent;
Whose well-train'd passions, with a pious awe,
Are all subordinate to reason's law:
Then smooth content arises like the day,
And makes each rugged phantom fly away:
To lowest men she gives a lib'ral share
Of solid bliss; she mitigates our care,
Enlarging joys, administering health;
The rich man's pleasure, and the poor man's wealth;
A train of comforts on her nod attend,
And to her sway profits and honours bend.

Hail, blest content! who art by heav'n design'd
Parent of health and cheerfulness of mind;
Serene content shall animate my song,
And make th' immortal numbers smooth and strong.

Silenus, thou whose hoary beard and head
Experience speak, and youth's attention plead;
Retail thy gather'd knowledge, and disclose
What state of life enjoys the most repose.
Thus I addrest: and thus the ancient bard: —
First, to no state of life fix thy regard:
All mortals may be happy if they please,
Not rack'd with pain, nor ling'ring in disease.

Midas the wretch, wrapt in his patched rags,
With empty paunch sits brooding o'er his bags;
Meagre his look, his mind in constant fright,
If winds but move his windows in the night;
If dogs should bark, or but a mouse make din,
He sweats and starts, and thinks the thief's got in;
His sleep forsakes him till the dawn appears,
Which ev'ry thing but such a caitiff cheers:
It gives him pain to buy a farthing light,
He jums at home in darkness all the night.
What makes him manage with such cautious pain?
'T would break a sum; a farthing spent so vain!
If e'er he's pleas'd, 'tis when some needful man
Gives ten per cent. with an insuring pawn.
Though he's provided in as much would serve
Whole Nestor's years, he ever fears to starve.
Tell him of alms: alas! he'd rather choose
Damnation, and the promis'd bliss refuse. —
And is there such a wretch beneath the sun? —
Yes, he return'd, thousands instead of one
To whom content is utterly unknown. —
Are all the rich men such? — He answer'd, no;
Marcus hath wealth, and can his wealth bestow
Upon himself, his friends, and on the poor;
Enjoys enough, and wishes for no more.

Reverse of these is he who braves the sky,
Cursing his Maker when he throws the die:
Gods, devils, furies, hell, heav'n, blood and wounds,
Promiscuous fly in bursts of tainted sounds:
He to perdition doth his soul bequeath,
Yet inly trembles when he thinks of death.
Except at game, he ne'er employs his thought,
Till hiss'd and pointed at — not worth a groat.
The desp'rate remnant of a large estate
Goes at one throw, and points his gloomy fate;
He finds his folly now, but finds too late.
Ill brooks my fondling master to be poor,
Bred up to nought but bottle, game, and whore:
How pitiful he looks without his rent!
They who fly virtue, ever fly content.

Now I beheld the sage look'd less severe,
Whilst pity join'd his old satyric leer.
The weakly mind, said he, is quickly torn;
Men are not gods, some frailties must be borne:
Heav'n's bounteous hand all in their turn abuse;
The happiest men at times their fate refuse,
Befool themselves, and trump up an excuse.

Is Lucius but a subaltern of foot?
His equal Gallus is a coroner.

Sterilla shuns a gossiping, and why?
The teeming mother fills her with envy.
The pregnant matron's grief as much prevails,
Some of the children always something ails;
One boy is sick, t' other has broke his head,
And nurse is blam'd when little miss is dead.

A duchess, on a velvet couch reclin'd,
Blabs her fair cheeks till she is almost blind;
Poor Phillis' death the briny pearls demands,
Who ceases now to snarl and lick her hands.

The politicians who, in learn'd debates,
With penetration carve out kingdoms' fates,
Look sour, drink coffee, shrug, and read gazettes.
Deep sunk in craft of state their souls are lost,
And all their hopes depend upon the post:
Each mail that's due they curse the contrair wind;
'Tis strange if this way men contentment find:
Though old, their humours I am yet to learn,
Who vex themselves in what they've no concern.

Ninny, the glaring fop, who always runs
In tradesmen's books, which makes the careful duns
Often ere ten to break his slumb'ring rest:
Whilst with their craving clamours he's opprest,
He frames excuses till his cranny akes,
Then thinks he justly damns the cursed sneaks.
The disappointed dun, with as much ire,
Both threats and curses till his breast's on fire;
Then home he goes and pours it on his house,
His servants suffer oft, and oft his spouse.

Some groan through life amidst a heap of cares,
To load with too much wealth their lazy heirs.
The lazy heir turns all to ridicule,
And all his life proclaims his father fool:
He toils in spending; leaves a threadbare son,
To scrape anew, as had his grandsire done.

How is the fair Myrtilla's bosom fir'd,
If Leda's sable locks are more admir'd;
While Leda does her secret sighs discharge,
Because her mouth's a straw-breadth, ah! too large.

Thus sung the sire, and left me to invite
The scorching beams in some cool green retreat;
Where gentle slumber seiz'd my weary'd brain,
And mimic fancy op'd the following scene:

Methought I stood upon a rising ground,
A splendid landscape open'd all around,
Rocks, rivers, meadows, gardens, parks, and woods,
And domes which hide their turrets in the clouds.
To me approach'd a nymph divinely fair,
Celestial virtue shone through all her air:
A nymph for grace, her wisdom more renown'd,
Adorn'd each grace, and both true valour crown'd.
Around her heav'nly smiles a helmet blaz'd,
And graceful as she mov'd, a spear she gently rais'd.
My sight at first the lustre scarce could bear,
Her dazzling glories shone so strong and clear;
A majesty sublime, with all that's sweet,
Did adoration claim, and love invite.
I felt her wisdom's charm my thoughts inspire,
Her dauntless courage set my soul on fire:
The maid, when thus I knew, I soon addrest,
My present wishful thoughts the theme suggest: —
Of all th' ethereal pow'rs, thou, noblest maid,
To human-weakness lend'st the readiest aid:
To where content and her blest train reside,
Immortal Pallas, deign to be my guide. —
With my request well pleas'd, our course we bent
To find the habitation of content.

Through fierce Bellona's tents we first advanc'd,
Where cannons bounc'd, and nervous horses pranc'd:
Here Vi-et-armis sat, with dreadful awe
And daring front, to prop each nation's law;
Attending squadrons on her motions wait,
Array'd in deaths, and fearless of their fate.
Here chieftain souls glow'd with as great a fire
As his who made the world but one empire:
E'en in low ranks brave spirits might be found,
Who wanted nought of monarchs but a crown.
But, ah! ambition stood a foe to peace,
Shaking the empty fob, and ragged fleece;
Which were more hideous to these sons of war
Than brimstone, smoke, and storms of bullets are.
Here, said my guide, content is rarely found,
Where blood and noisy jars beset the ground.

Trade's wealthy warehouse next fell in our way,
Where in great bales part of each nation lay:
The Spanish citron, and Hesperia's oil,
Persia's soft product, and the Chinese toil;
Warm Borneo's spices, Arab's scented gum,
The Polish amber, and the Saxon mum;
The orient pearl, Holland's lace and toys,
And tinsel work which the fair nun employs;
From India iv'ry and the clouded cane,
And coch'neal from the straits of Magellan;
The Scandinavian rosin, hemp, and tar,
The Lapland furs, and Russia caviare;
The Gallic puncheon charg'd with ruby juice,
Which makes the hearts of gods and men rejoice;
Britannia here pours from her plenteous horn
Her shining mirrors, clock-work, cloths, and corn.
Here cent. per cents. sat poring o'er their books;
While many shew'd the bankrupts in their looks;
Who, by mismanagement, their stock had spent,
Curs'd these hard times, and blam'd the government.
The missive letter, and peremptor bill,
Forbade them rest, and call'd forth all their skill.
Uncertain credit bore the sceptre here,
And her prime ministers were hope and fear.
The surly chuffs demanded what we sought? —
Content, said I: may she with gold be bought? —
Content! said one; then star'd and bit his thumb,
And leering ask'd, if I was worth a plumb?

Love's fragrant fields, where mildest western gales,
Loaden with sweets, perfume the hills and dales;
Where longing lovers haunt the streams and glades,
And cooling groves whose verdure never fades:
Thither with joy and hasty steps we strode,
There sure I thought our long'd-for bliss abode.
Whom first we met on that enchanted plain
Was a tall yellow-hair'd young pensive swain;
Him, I address'd: — " O youth! what heav'nly pow'r
" Commands and graces yon Elysian bow'r?
" Sure 'tis content, else much I am deceiv'd. "
The shepherd sigh'd, and told me that I rav'd:
" Rare she appears, unless on some fine day
" She grace a nuptial, but soon hastes away:
" If her you seek, soon hence you must remove,
" Her presence is precarious in love. "

Through these and other shrines we wander'd long,
Which merit no description in my song,
Till at the last methought we cast our eye
Upon an antique temple, square and high,
Its area wide, its spire did pierce the sky;
On adamantine Doric pillars rear'd,
Strong Gothic work the massy work appear'd;
Nothing seem'd little, all was great design'd,
Which pleas'd the eye at once, and fill'd the mind.
Whilst wonder did my curious thoughts engage,
To us approach'd a studious rev'rend sage;
Both awe and kindness his grave aspect bore,
Which spoke him rich with wisdom's finest store.
He asked our errand there: — Straight I reply'd,
" Content: in these high tow'rs does she reside? " —
" Not far from hence, " said he, " her palace
" stands;
" Ours she regards, as we do her demands;
" Philosophy sustains her peaceful sway,
" And in return she feasts us ev'ry day. "
Then straight an ancient telescope he brought,
By Socrates and Epictetus wrought;
Improved since, made easier to the sight,
Lengthen'd the tube, the glasses ground more bright;
Through this he shew'd a hill, whose lofty brow
Enjoy'd the sun, while vapours all below,
In pitchy clouds, encircled it around,
Where phantoms of most horrid forms abound;
The ugly brood of lazy spleen and fear,
Frightful in shape, most monstrous appear.
Then thus my guide: —
" Your way lies thro' yon gloom; be not aghast;
" Come briskly on, you'll jest them when they 're
" past;
" Mere empty spectres, harmless as the air,
" Which merit not your notice, less your care. "
Encourag'd with her word, I thus addrest
My noble guide, and grateful joy exprest: —
" O sacred wisdom! thine 's the source of light,
" Without thy blaze the world would grope in
" night;
" Of woe and bliss thou only art the test,
" Falsehood and truth before thee stand confest;
" Thou mak'st a double life, one nature gave,
" But without thine what is it mortals have?
" A breathing motion grazing to the grave. "

Now, through the damps methought we boldly went,
Smiling at all the grins of discontent:
Tho' oft pull'd back, the rising ground we gain'd,
Whilst inward joy my weary'd limbs sustain'd.
Arriv'd the height, whose top was large and plain,
And what appear'd soon recompens'd my pain,
Nature's whole beauty deck'd th' enamell'd scene.

Amidst the glade the sacred palace stood,
The architecture not so fine as good;
Nor scrimp, nor gousty, regular, and plain,
Plain were the columns which the roof sustain;
An easy greatness in the whole was found,
Where all that nature wanted did abound:
But here no beds are screen'd with rich brocade,
Nor fuel-logs in silver grates are laid;
No broken China bowls disturb the joy
Of waiting handmaid, or the running-boy;
Nor in the cupboard heaps of plate are rang'd,
To be with each splenetic fashion chang'd.

A weather-beaten centry watch'd the gate,
Of temper cross, and practis'd in debate:
Till once acquaint with him, no entry here,
Though brave as Caefar, or as Helen fair:
To strangers fierce, but with familiars tame,
And Touchstone Disappointment was his name.

This fair inscription shone above the gate,
" Fear none but Him, whose will directs thy fate. "
With smile austere he lifted up his head,
Pointed the characters, and bid us read.
We did, and stood resolv'd. The gates at last
Op'd of their own accord, and in we past.

Each day a herald, by the queen's command,
Was order'd on a mount to take his stand,
And thence to all the earth this offer make:
" Who are inclin'd her favours to partake,
" Shall have them free, if they small rubs can
" bear
" Of disappointment, spleen, and bug-bear fear. "

Rais'd on a throne within the outer gate,
The goddess sat, her vot'ries round her wait;
The beautiful divinity disclos'd
Sweetness sublime, which roughest cares compos'd:
Her looks sedate, yet joyful and serene,
Not rich her dress, but suitable and clean;
Unfurrow'd was her brow, her cheeks were smooth,
Though old as time, enjoy'd immortal youth;
And all her accents so harmonious flow'd,
That ev'ry list'ning ear with pleasure glow'd.
An olive garland on her head she wore,
And her right hand a cornucopia bore.
Cross Touchstone fill'd a bench without the door,
To try the sterling of each human ore:
Grim judge he was, and them away he sent,
Unfit t' approach the shrine of calm content.

To him a hoary dotard, lade' with bags: —
Unwieldy load to one who hardly drags
His being! — " More than seventy years, " said he,
" I've sought this court, till now unfound by me:
" Now let me rest. " — " Yes, if ye want no more:
" But 'ere the sun has made his annual tour,
" Know, grov'ling wretch! thy wealth's without
" thy pow'r. "
The thoughts of death, and ceasing from his gain,
Brought on the old man's head so sharp a pain,
Which dimm'd his optic nerves, and with the light,
He lost the palace, and crawl'd back to night.
Poor griping thing! how useless is thy breath,
While nothing's so much long'd for as thy death?
How meanly hast thou spent thy lease of years,
A slave to poverty, to toils, and fears!
And all to vie with some bleak rugged hill,
Whose rich contents millions of chests can fill.
As round the greedy rock clings to the mine,
And hinders it in open day to shine,
Till diggers hew it from the spar's embrace,
Making it circle, stampt with Caesar's face;
So dost thou hoard, and from thy prince purloin
His useful image, and thy country coin;
Till gaping heirs have freed th' imprison'd slave,
When, to their comfort, thou hast fill'd a grave.

The next, who with a janty air approach'd,
Was a gay youth, who thither had been coach'd:
Sleek were his Flanders mares, his liv'ries fine,
With glitt'ring gold his furniture did shine.
Sure such, methought, may enter when they please,
Who have all these appearances of ease,
Strutting he march'd, nor any leave he crav'd,
Attempt' to pass, but found himself deceiv'd.
Old Touchstone gave him on the breast a box,
Which op'd the sluices of a latent pox;
Then bid his equipage in haste depart.
The youth look'd at them with a fainting heart;
He found he could not walk, and bid them stay;
Swore three cramp oaths, mounted, and wheel'd away.

The pow'r herself express'd thus, with a smile: —
" These changing shadows are not worth our
" while;
" With smallest trifles oft their peace is torn,
" If here at night, they scarcely wait the morn. "

Another beau, as fine, but more vivace,
Whose airs sat round him with an easy grace,
And well-bred motion, came up to the gate;
I lov'd him much, and trembled for his fate.
The centry broke his clouded cane; — he smil'd,
Got fairly in, and all our fears beguil'd.
The cane was soon renewed which had been broke,
And thus the virtue to the circle spoke: —
" Each thing magnificent or gay we grant
" To them who're capable to bear their want. "

Two handsome toasts came next, them well I knew,
Their lovely make the court's observance drew:
Three waiting-maids attended in the rear,
Each loaden with as much as she could bear:
One mov'd beneath a load of silks and lace,
Another bore the off-sets of the face;
But the most bulky burden of the three,
Was hers who bore th' utensils of bohea.
My mind indulgent in their favour pled,
Hoping no opposition would be made;
So mannerly, so smooth, so mild their eye,
Enough almost to give content envy.
But soon I found my error: the bold judge,
Who acted as if prompted by some grudge,
Them thus saluted with a hollow tone: —
" You 're none of my acquaintance, get you gone:
" What loads of trump'ry these! — ha, where's my
" cross?
" I 'll try if these be solid ware, or boss. "
The China felt the fury of his blow,
And lost a being, or for use, or show;
For use or show no more's each plate or cup,
But all in shards upon the threshold drop.
Now ev'ry charm, which deck'd their face before,
Gives place to rage, and beauty is no more:
The briny stream their rosy cheeks besmear'd,
Whilst they in clouds of vapours disappear'd.

A rustic hind, attir'd in home-spun grey,
With forked locks, and shoes bedaub'd with clay;
Palms shod with horn; his front fresh, brown, and broad;
With legs and shoulders fitted for a load:
He 'midst ten bawling children laugh'd and sung,
While consort hobnails on the pavement rung.
Up to the porter unconcern'd he came,
Forcing along his offspring and their dame;
Cross Touchstone strove to stop him, but the clown
At handy-cuffs him match'd, and threw him down;
And spite of him, into the palace went,
Where he was kindly welcom'd by content.

Two Busbian philosophs put in their claims,
Gamaliel and Critis were their names;
But soon 's they had our British Homer seen,
With face unruffled, waiting on the queen,
Envious hate their surly bosoms fir'd,
Their colour chang'd, they from the porch retir'd;
Backward they went, reflecting with much rage
On the bad taste and humour of the age,
Which paid so much respect to nat'ral parts,
While they were starving graduates of arts.
The goddess fell a-laughing at the fools,
And sent them packing to their grammar-schools;
Or in some garret elevate to dwell,
There, with Sisyphian toil, to teach young beaux to spell.

Now, all this while, a gale of eastern wind
And cloudy skies opprest the human mind;
The wind set west; back'd with the radiant beams
Which warm'd the air, and danc'd upon the streams,
Exhal'd the spleen, and sooth'd a world of souls,
Who crowded now the avenue in shoals.
Numbers in black, of widowers, relicts, heirs;
Of new-wed lovers many handsome pairs;
Men landed from abroad, from camps and seas;
Others got through some dangerous disease;
A train of belles adorn'd with something new;
And e'en of ancient prudes there were a few,
Who were refresh'd with scandal and with tea,
Which, for a time, set them from vapours free;
Here from their cups, the lower species flockt;
And knaves with bribes and cheating methods stockt.

The Pow'r survey'd the troop, and gave command,
They should no longer in the entry stand,
But be convey'd into chimera's tow'r,
There to attend her pleasure for an hour.

Soon as they enter'd, apprehension shook
The fabric; fear was fixt on ev'ry look;
Old age and poverty, disease, disgrace,
With horrid grin, star'd full in ev'ry face,
Which made them, trembling at their unknown fate,
Issue in haste out by the postern gate.

None waited out their hour but only two,
Who had been wedded fifteen years ago:
The man had learn'd the world, and fix'd his mind;
His spouse was cheerful, beautiful, and kind;
She neither fear'd the shock, nor phantom's stare;
She thought her husband wise, and knew that he was there.

Now while the court was sitting, my fair guide
Into a fine Elysium me convey'd:
I saw, or thought I saw, the spacious fields
Adorn'd with all prolific nature yields,
Profusely rich with her most valu'd store:
But as m' enchanted fancy wander'd o'er
The happy plain, new beauties seem'd to rise,
The fields were fled, and all was painted skies.
Pleas'd for a while, I wish'd the former scene;
Straight all return'd, and eas'd me of my pain.
Again the flow'ry meadows disappear,
And hills and groves their stately summits rear:
These sink again, and rapid rivers flow;
Next from the rivers cities seem to grow.

Some time the fleeting scene I had forgot,
In busy thought entranc'd: with pain I sought
To know the hidden charm: straight all was fled,
And boundless heav'ns o'er boundless oceans spread.
Impatient, I obtest my noble guide,
" Reveal this wond'rous secret? " She reply'd:

" We carry'd on what greatly we design'd,
" When all these human follies you resign'd,
" Ambition, lux'ry, and a cov'tous mind:
" Yet think not true content can thus be bought,
" There's wanting still a train of virtuous thought.

" When me your leader prudently you chuse,
" And, list'ning to my counsel, did refuse
" Fantastic joys, your soul was thus prepar'd
" For true content: and thus I do reward
" Your gen'rous toil. Observe this wond'rous
" clime;
" Of nature's blessings here are hid the prime:
" But wise and virtuous thought, in constant
" course,
" Must draw these beauties from their hidden
" source;
" The smallest intermissions will transform
" The pleasant scene, and spoil each perfect charm.
" 'Tis ugly vice will rob you of content,
" And to your view all hellish woes present:
" Nor grudge the care in virtue you employ,
" Your present toil will prove your future joy. "
Then smil'd she heav'nly sweet, and parting said,
" Hold fast your virtuous mind, of nothing be
" afraid. "

A while the charming voice so fill'd my ears,
I griev'd the divine form no more appears:
Then to confirm my yet unsteady mind,
Under a lonely shadow I reclin'd,
To try the virtues of the clime I sought;
Then straight call'd up a train of hideous thought;
Famine, and blood, and pestilence appear,
Wild shrieks and loud laments disturb mine ear;
New woes and horrors did my sight alarm,
Envy and hate composed the wretched charm.

Soon as I saw, I dropt the hateful view,
And thus I sought past pleasures to renew.
To heav'nly love my thoughts I next compose,
Then quick as thought the foll'wing sights disclose:
Streams, meadows, grottos, groves, birds carrolling;
Calmness, and temp'rate warmth, and endless spring:
A perfect transcript of these upper bow'rs,
The habitation of th' immortal pow'rs.

Back to the palace ravished I went,
Resolved to reside with blest content;
Where all my special friends methought I met,
In order 'mongst the best of mankind set.
My soul, with too much pleasure, overcharg'd,
The captiv'd senses to their post enlarg'd.
Lifting mine eyes, I view'd declining day,
Sprang from the green, and homeward bent my way;
Reflecting on that hurry, pain, and strife,
Which flow from false and real ills of life.