Page images
PDF
EPUB

While these the combat's direful arts display,60
And share the bloody fortunes of the day,
Each hero sat, revolving in his soul

The various means that might his foe controul;
Conquest and glory each proud bosom warms,
When, lo! the herald summons them to arms.

THE GYMNASIAD.
BOOK IL

ARGUMENT.

Stephenson enters the lists; a description of his
figure; an encomium on his abilities, with
respect to the character of a coachman.
Broughton advances; his reverend form des-
cribed; his superior skill in the management
of the lighter and wherry displayed; his tri-
umph of the badge celebrated; his speech;
his former victories recounted; the prepara-
tions for the combat, and the horrour of the
spectators.!

FIRST, to the fight, advanc'd the charioteer:
High hopes of glory on his brow appear;
Terrour vindictive flashes from his eye,
(To one the fates the visual ray deny ;)
Fierce glow'd his looks, which spoke his inward

rage;

He leaps the bar, and bounds upon the stage.
The roofs re-eccho with exulting cries,
And all behold him with admiring eyes.
Ill-fated youth! what rash desires could warm
Thy manly heart, to dare the Triton's arm? 10
Ah! too unequal to these martial deeds,
Though none more skill'd to rule the foaming
The coursers, still obedient to thy rein, [steeds.
Now urge their flight, or now their flight restrain.
Had mighty Diomed provok'd the race,
Thou far had'st left the Grecian in disgrace.
Where-e'er you drove, each inn confess'd your
[hay.
Maids brought the dram, and ostlers flew with
But know, though skill'd to guide the rapid car,
None wages like thy foe the manual war. 20

sway,

author here intended to celebrate a lamp-lighter, or a link-boy; but as there are heroes of both capacities at present in the school of honour, it is difficult to determine, whether the poet al Judes to a Wells, or a Buckhorse.

[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small]

Then thus indignant he accosts the foe, (While high disdain sat prideful on his brow :) "Long has the laurel-wreath victorious spread Its sacred honours round this hoary head; The prize of conquest in each doubtful fray, And dear reward of many a dire fought day. 40 Now youth's cold wane the vig'rous pulse has chas'd,

[name!

Froze all my blood, and ev'ry nerve unbrac'd;
Now, from these temples shall the spoils be torn,
In scornful triumph by my foe be worn?
What then avail my various deeds in arms,
If this proud crest thy feeble force disarms ?
Lost be my glories to recording fame,
When, foil'd by thee, the coward blasts my
I, who e'er manhood my young joints had knit,
First taught the fierce Grettonius to submit; 50
While, drench'd in blood, he prostrate press'd
the floor,

And inly groan'd the fatal words-'no more.'
Allenius too, who ev'ry heart dismay'd,

thor inculcates a 'fine moral, by showing how apt men are to mistake their talents; but were men only to act in their proper spheres, how often should we see the parson in the pew of the peasant, the author in the character of his hawker, or a beau in the livery of his footman! &c.

V. 34. the badge its due.] A prize given by Mr. Dogget, to be annually contested on the first of August.-As among the ancients, games and sports were celebrated on mournful as well as joyful events, there has been some controversy, whether our loyal comedian meant the compliment to the setting or rising monarch of 1 Argument.] It was doubtless in obedience that day; but, as the plate has a horse for its to custom, and the example of other great poets, device, I am induced to impute it to the latter; that our author has thought proper to prefix an and, doubtless, he prudently considered, that, argument to each book, being minded that noas a living dog is better than a dead lion, the thing should be wanting in the usual parapher-living horse had, at least, an equal title to the nalia of works of this kind.--For my own part, I am at a loss to account for the use of them, unless it be to swell a volume, or, like bills of fare, to advertise the reader what he is to expect; that, if it contains nothing likely to suit his taste, he may preserve his appetite for the next course. V. 6, 7. He leaps the bar, &c. See the desThe roofs re-echo

riptions of Dares in Virgil.

}

Nec mora, continuo vastis cum viribus effert
Ora Dares, magnoque virum se murmure tollit.
V. 19. But know, though skill'd] Here our au-

same preference.

V. 42. Froze all my blood,] See Virgil.
-Sed enim gelidus tardante senecta
Sanguis hebet, frigentque effoetæ in corpore
vires.

V. 50. Fierce Grettonius to submit ;] Gretton, the most famous Athleta in his days, over whom our hero obtained his maiden prize.

V. 53. Allenius too, &c.] Vulgarly known by the plebeian name of Pipes, which a learned critic will have to be derived from the art and mystery of pipe-making, in which it is affirmed this here

[blocks in formation]
[ocr errors]

A description of the battle; Stephenson is van-
quished; the manner of his body being car-
ried off by his friends; Broughton claims the
prize, and takes his final leave of the stage.
FULL in the centre now they fix in form,
Eye meeting eye, and arm oppos'd to arm;
With wily feints each other now provoke,
And cautious meditate th' impending stroke.
Th' impatient youth, inspir'd by hopes of fame,
First sped his arm, unfaithful to its aim;
The wary warrior, watchful of his foe,
Bends back, and 'scapes the death-designing blow;
With erring glance it sounded by his ear,

was an adept.-As he was the delicium pugnacis generis, our author, with marvellous judgment, represents the ring weeping at his defeat.

V. 54. Whose blows, like hail, &c.] Virgil.
-quam multa grandine nimbi

Culminibus crepitant.

V. 57. Then fell the swain,] Jeoffrey Birch, who, in several encounters, served only to augment the number of our hero's triumphs.

V. 59. Next the bold youth] As this champion is still living, and even disputes the palm of manhood with our hero himself, I shall leave him to be the subject of immortality in some future Gymnasiad, should the superiority of his prowess ever justify his title to the corona pugnea. V. 63. This said, &c,] Virgil.

tum :

Hæc fatus, duplicem ex humeris rejecit amic[tosque Et magnos membrorum artus, magna ossa lacerExuit.

[blocks in formation]

10

And whizzing, spent its idle force in air.
Then quick advancing on th' unguarded head,
A dreadful show'r of thunderbolts he shed:
As when a whirlwind, from some cavern broke,
With furious blasts assaults the monarch oak,
This way and that its lofty top it bends.
And the fierce storm the crackling branches
rends;

20

So wav'd the head, and now to left and right
Rebounding flies, and crash'd beneath the weight.
Like the young lion wounded by a dart,
Whose fury kindles at the galling smart;
The hero rouses with redoubled rage,
Flies on the foe, and foams upon the stage.
Now grappling, both in close contention join,
Legs lock in legs, and arms in arms entwine:
They sweat, they heave, each tugging nerve they
strain;

Both, fix'd as oaks, their sturdy trunks sustain.
At length the chief his wily art display'd,
Pois'd on his hip the hapless youth he laid;
Aloft in air his quiv'ring limbs he throw'd, [load
Then on the ground down dash'd the pond'rous
So some vast ruin on a mountain's brow,
Which tott'ring hangs, and dreadful nods below,
When the fierce tempest the foundation rends,
Whirl'd though the air with horrid crush des-
cends.

31

40

[ocr errors]

Bold and undaunted up the hero rose, Fiercer his bosom for the combat glows; Shame stung his manly heart, and fiery rage New steel'd each nerve, redoubled war to wage. Swift to revenge the dire disgrace he flies, Again suspended on the hip he lies; Dash'd on the ground, again had fatal fell, Haply the barrier caught his flying heel; There fast it hung, th' imprison'd head gave way, And the strong arm defrauded of its prey. Vain strove the chief to whirl the mountain o'er; It slipt-he headlong rattles on the floor. V. 10. its idle force in air.] Virgil

-vires in ventum effudit.

V. 19. Like the young lion] It may be ob served, that our author has treated the reader. but with one simile throughout the two foregoing books; but, in order to make him ample amends, bas given him no less than six in this. Doubtless this was in imitation of Homer, and artfully action, as well as our admiration, towards the intended to heighten the dignity of the main conclusion of his work.-Finis coronat opus. V. 24. Arms in arms entwine ;] Virgil. Immiscentque manus manibus, pugnamque

lacessunt.

V. 35. Bold and undaunted, &c.] Virgil.
At non tardatus casu, neque territus heros,
Acrior ad puguam redit, & vim suscitat ira
Tum pudor incendit vires-

V. 42. Haply the barrier, &c.] Our author, like Homer himself, is no less to be admired in the character of an historian than in that of a poet: we see him here faithfully reciting the most minute incidents of the battle, and informing us, that the youthful hero, being on the lock, must again inevitably have come to the ground, had not is heel catched the bar; and that his antagonist, by the violence of his straining, slipt

Around the ring loud peals of thunder rise, And shouts exultant echo to the skies.

51

Uplifted now inanimate he seems,
Forth from his nostrils gush the purple streams;
Gasping for breath, and impotent of hand,
The youth beheld his rival stagg'ring stand:
But he, alas! had felt th' unnerving blow,
And gaz'd, unable to assault the foc.

As when two monarchs of the brindled breed
Dispute the proud dominion of the mead,
They fight, they foam, then weary'd in the fray,
Aloof retreat, and low'ring stand at bay;
So stood the heroes, and indignant glar'd,
While grim with blood their rueful fronts were
smear'd;
60

Till with returning strength new rage returns, Again their arms are steel'd, again each busom burns.

Incessant now their hollow sides they pound, Loud on each breast the bounding bangs resound;

Their flying fists around the temples glow,
And the jaws crackle with the massy blow.
The raging combat ev'ry eye appals, [falls.
Strokes following strokes, and falls succeeding
Now droop'd the youth, yet, urging all his might,
With feeble arm still vindicates the fight,

70

Dragging its limbs, they bear the body forth, Mash'd teeth and clotted blood came issuing from his mouth.

Thus then the victor-" O celestial pow'r!
Who gave this arm to boast one triumph more;
Now grey in glory, let my labours cease,
My blood-stain'd laurel wed the branch of peace ;
Lur'd by the lustre of the golden prize,

No more in combat this proud crest shall rise;
To future heroes future deeds belong,
Be mine the theme of some immortal song." 90
This said he seiz'd the prize, while round
the ring,

High soar'd applause on acclamation's wing.

V. 88. No more in combat, &c.] Virgil.
hic victor cæstus, artem que repono.

[blocks in formation]

Till on the part where heav'd the panting breath,"LOAD, load the pallet, boy!" hark! Hogarth

A fatal blow impress'd the seal of death.
Down dropt the hero, welt'ring in his gore,
And his stretch'd limbs lay quiv'ring on the floor.
So, when a falcon skims the airy way,
Stoops from the clouds, and pounces on his prey;
Dash'd on the earth the feather'd victim lies,
Expands its feeble wings, and, flutt'ring, dies.
His faithful friends their dying hero rear'd,
O'er his broad shoulders dangling hung his
head;

80

his arm over his head, and by that means received the fall he intended the enemy.-I thought it incumbent on me as a commentator to say thus much, to illustrate the meaning of our author, which might seem a little obscure to those who are unacquainted with conflicts of this kind.

V. 48. echo to the skies, &c.] Virgil.

It clamor cœlo

The learned reader will perceive our author's frequent allusions to Virgil; and whether he intended them as translations or imitations of the Roman poet, must give us pause: but as, in our modern productions, we find imitations are generally nothing more than bad translations, and translations nothing more than bad imitations; it would equally, I suppose, satisfy the gall of the critic, should these unluckily fall within either description.

V. 63. Incessant now, &c.] Virgil. Multa viri nequicquam inter se vulnera jactant: Multa cavo lateri ingeminant, & pectore vastos Dant sonitus, erratque aures & tempora circum Crebra manus: duro crepitant sub vulnere malæ.

V. 79. His faithful friends] Virgil.

At illum fidi æquales, genua ægra trahentem, Jactantemque utroque caput, crassumque cruo

rem

Ore rejectantem, mistosque in sanguine dentes, Ducunt ad naves.

cries,

"Fast as I paint, fresh swarms of fools arise! Groups rise on groups, and mock the pencil's pow'r,

To catch each new-blown folly of the hour." While hum'rous Hogarth paints each fully dead,

Shall vice triumphant rear its hydra head?
At satire's sov'reign nod disdain to shrink?
New reams of paper, and fresh floods of ink!
On then, my Muse! Herculean labours dare,
And wage with virtue's foes eternal war;
Range through the town in search of ev'ry ill,
And cleanse th' Augean stable with thy quill.

"But what avails the poignance of the song, Since all," you cry, "still persevere in wrong. Would courtly crimes to Mulgrave's' muse sub. mit?

Or blush'd the monarch though a Wilmot writ?
Still pandar peers disgrac'd the rooms of state,
Still Cæsar's bed sustain'd a foreign weight;
Slaves worshipp'd still the golden calf of pow'r,
And bishops, bowing, bless'd the scarlet whore.
Shall then thy verse the guilty great reclaim,
Though fraught with Dryden's heav'n-descended
flame?

Will harpy Heathcote, from his mould'ring store,
Drag forth one cheering drachma to the poor?
Or Harrington, unfaithful to the seal,
Throw in one suffrage for the public weal?
Pointless all satire, and misplac'd its aim,
To wound the bosom, that's obdur'd to shame:
The callous heart ne'er feels the goad within;
Few dread the censure, who can dare the sin."
Though on the culprit's cheek no blush should

glow,

Still let me mark him to mankind a foe:

'Translator of Horace's Art of Poetry, and afterwards duke of Buckingham.

• Earl of Rochester.

Strike but the deer, however slight the wound,
It serves at least to drive him from the sound.
Shall reptile sinners frowning justice fear,
And pageant titles privilege the peer?
So falls the humbler game in common fields,
While the branch'd beast the royal forest shields.
On, Satire, then! pursue thy gen'rous plan,
And wind the vice, regardless of the man.
Rouse, rouse! th' ennobled herd for public sport,
And hunt them through the covert of a court.
Just as the play'r the mimic portrait draws,
All claim a right of censure or applause:
What guards the place-man from an equal fate,
Who mounts but actor on the stage of state?
Subject alike to each man's praise and blame,
Each critic voice the fiat of his fame;
Though to the private some respect we pay,
All public characters are public prey:
Pelham and Garrick, let the verse forbear
What sanctifies the treasurer or play'r.

Great in her laurel'd sages Athens see,
Free flow'd her satire while her sons were free:
Then purpled guilt was dragg'd to public shame,
And each offence stood fragrant with a name;
Polluted ermine no respect could win,
No hallow'd lawn could sanctify a sin;
'Till tyrant pow'r usurp'd a lawless rule:
Then sacred grew the titled knave and fool;
Then penal statutes aw'd the poignant song,
And slaves were taught, that kings could do no
wrong.

Guilt still is guilt, to me, in slave or king, Fetter'd in cells, or garter'd in the ring: And yet behold how various the reward, Wild falls a felon, Walpole3 mounts a lord! The little knave the law's last tribute pays, While crowns around the great one's chariot

blaze.

Blaze meteors, blaze! to me is still the same The cart of justice, or the coach of shame. Say, what's nobility, ye gilded train! Does nature give it, or can guilt sustain ? Blooms the form fairer, if the birth be high? Or takes the vital stream a richer dye; What! though a long patrician line ye claim, Are noble souls entail'd upon a name? Anstis may ermine out the lordly earth, Virtue's the herald that proclaims its worth. Hence mark the radiance of a Stanhope's star, And glow-worm glitter of thine, D***r: Ignoble splendour! that but shines to all, The humble badge of a court hospital. Let lofty L**r wave his nodding plume, Boast all the blushing honours of the loom, Resplendent bondage no regard can bring, 'Tis Methuen's heart must dignify the string. Vice levels all, however high or low; And all the diff'rence but consists in show. Who asks an alms, or supplicates a place, Alike is beggar, though in rags or lace; Alike his country's scandal and its curse, Who vends a vote, or who purloins a purse; Thy gamblers, Bridewell, and St James's bites, The rooks of Mordington's, and sharks at White's.

3 Though the person here meant has indeed paid the debt of nature, yet, as he has left that of justice unsatisfied, the author apprehends that the public are indisputably entitled to the assets of his reputation.

[blocks in formation]

Affords the town no sins but sins of state?
Perches vice only on the court's high hill? ́
Or yields life's vale no quarry for the quill?"
Manners, like fashions,still from courts descend,
And what the great begin, the vulgar end.
If vicious then the mode, correct it here;
He saves the peasant, who reforms the peer.
What Hounslow knight would stray from ho
nour's path,

If guided by a brother of the Bath?

Honour's a mistress all mankind pursue; Yet most mistake the false one for the true: Lur'd by the trappings, dazzled by the paint, We worship oft the idol for the saint. Courted by all, by few the fair is won; Those lose who seek her, and those gain who shun; Naked she flies to merit in distress,

And leaves to courts the garnish of her dress.

The million'd merchant seeks her in his gold; In schools the pedant, and in camps the bold: The courtier views her, with admiring eyes, Flutter in ribbons, or in titles rise: Sir Epicene enjoys her in his plume; Mead, in the learned wainscot of a room: By various ways all woo the modest maid; Yet lose the substance, grasping at the shade. Who, smiling, sees not with what various

strife

Man blindly runs the giddy maze of life?
To the same end still diffrent means employs;
This builds a church, a temple that destroys;
Both anxious to obtain a deathless name,
Yet, erring, both mistake report for fame.

Report, though vulture-like the name it bear,
Drags but the carrion carcass through the air;
While fame, Jove's nobler bird, superior flies,
And, soaring, mounts the mortal to the skies.
So Richard's name to distant ages borne,
Unhappy Richard still is Britain's scorn:
Be Edward's wafted on fame's eagle wing,
Each patriot mourns the long-departed king;
Yet thine, O Edward! shall to George's yield,
And Dettingen eclipse a Cressy's field.

Through life's wild ocean, who would safely

roam,

And bring the golden fleece of glory home,
Must, heedful, shun the barking Scylla's rʊar,
And fell Charybdis' all-devouring shore;
With steady helm an equal course support,
'Twixt faction's rocks, and quicksands of a court;
By virtue's beacon still direct his aim,,
Through honour's channel, to the port of fame.

Yet, on this sea, how all mankind are tost! For one that's sav'd, what multitudes are lost! Misguided by ambition's treach'rous light, Through want of skill, few make the harbour right.

Hence mark what wrecks of virtue, friendship, fame,

For four dead letters added to a name !
Whence dwells such Syren music in a word,
Or sounds not Brutus noble as my lord?
Though crownets, Pult'ney, blazon on thy plate,
Adds the base mark one scruple to its weight?
Though sounds patrician swell thy name, O
Stretches one acre thy plebeian lands? [Sandys!
4 Richard the Second.

George the Second.

Say, the proud title meant to plume the son,
Why gain by guilt, what virtue might have won ?
Vain shall the son his herald honours trace,
Whose parent peer 's but patriot in disgrace.
Vain, on the solemn head of hoary age,
Totters the mitre, if ambition's rage
To mammon pow'r the hallow'd heart incline,
And titles only mark the priest divine.
Blest race! to whom the golden age remains,
Ease without care, and plenty without pains:
For you the earth unlabour'd treasure yields,
And the rich sheaves spontaneous crown the
fields;

No toilsome dews pollute the rev'rend brow,
Each holy hand unharden'd by the plough;
Still burst the sacred garners with their store,
And flails, unceasing, thunder on the floor.

O bounteous Heav'n! yet Heav'n how seldom shares

The titheful tribute of the prelate's pray'rs !
Lost to the stall, in senates still they nod,
And all the monarch steals them from the God:
Thy praises, Brunswick, every breast inspire,
The throne their altar, and the court their choir;
Here earliest incense they devoutly bring,
Here everlasting hallelujah's sing:
Thou! only thou! almighty to-translate,
Thou their great golden deity of state.

Who seeks on merit's stock to graft success,
In vain invokes the ray of pow'r to bless;
The stem, too stubborn for the courtly soil,
With barren branches mocks the virtuous toil.
More pliant plants the royal regions suit,
Where knowledge still is held forbidden fruit;
'Tis these alone the kindly nurture share,
And all Hesperia's golden treasures bear.

Let folly still be fortune's fondling heir,
And science meet a step-dame in the fair.
Let courts, like fortune, disinherit sense,
And take the idiot charge from Providence.
The idiot head the cap and bells may fit,
But how disguise a Lyttelton and Pitt !

O! once-lov'd youths! Britannia's blooming hope,

Fair freedom's twins, and once the theme of Fope;
What wond'ring senates on your accents hung,
Ere flatt'ry's poison chill'd the patriot tongue!
Rome's sacred thunder awes no more the ear;
But Pelham smiles, who trembled once to hear.
Say, whence this change? less galling is the
chain,

Though Walpole, Carteret, or a Pelham reign?
If senates still the pois'nous bane imbibe,
And every palm grows callous with the bribe;
If sev'n long years mature the venal voice,
While freedom mourns her long-defrauded
choice;

If justice waves o'er fraud a lenient hand,
And the red locust rages through the land.

Sunk in these bonds, to Britain what avails, Who wields her sword, or balances her scales? Veer round the compass, change to change sucBy every son the mother now must bleed [ceed, Vain all her hosts, on foreign shores array'd, Though lost by Wentworth, or preserv'd by Wade. Fleets, once which spread through distant worlds her name!

Now ride inglorious trophies of her shame®;

6 Alluding to the ever-memorable no-fight in

While fading laurels shade her drooping head And mark her Burleighs, Blakes, and Marlbro's dead!

Such were thy sons, O happy isle! of old,
In counsel prudent, and in action bold:
Now view a Pelham puzzling o'er thy fate,
Lost in the maze of a perplex'd debate;
And sage Newcastle, with fraternal skill,
Guard the nice conduct of a nation's quill:
See truncheons trembling in the coward hand,
Though bold rebellion half subdue the land;
While ocean's god, indignant, wrests again
The long-deputed trident of the main7.

Sleep our last heroes in the silent tomb?
Why springs no future worthies from the womb?
Not nature sure, since nature's still the same,
But education bars the road to fame.
Who hopes for wisdom's crop, must till the soul,
And virtue's early lesson should control:
To the young breast who valour would impart,
Must plant it by example in the heart.

Ere Britain fell to mimic modes a prey, And took the foreign polish of our day, Train'd to the martial labours of the field, Our youth were taught the massy spear to wield; In halcyon peace, beneath whose downy wings The merchant smiles, and lab'ring peasant sings, With civil arts to guard their country's cause, Direct her counsels, and defend her laws: Hence a long race of ancient worthies rose, Adorn'd the land, and triumph'd o'er our foes. Ye sacred shades! who through th' Elysian

grove,

With Rome's fam'd chiefs, and Grecian sages rove,
Blush to behold what arts your offspring grace!
Each fopling heir now marks his sire's disgrace;
An embrio breed! of such a doubtful frame,
You scarce could know the sex but by the name:
Fraught with the native follies of his home,
Torn from the nurse, the babe of mirth must
roam;

Through foreign climes exotic vice explore,
And cull each weed, regardless of the flow'r,
Proud of thy spoils, O Italy and France!
The soft enervate strain, and cap'ring dance :
From Sequan's streams, and winding banks of Po,
He comes, ye gods' an all-accomplish'd beau!
Unhumaniz'd in dress, with cheeks so wan!
He mocks God's image in the mimic man;
Great judge of arts! o'er toilettes now presides,
Corrects our fashions, or an opera guides;
From tyrant Handel rends th' imperial bay,
And guards the Magna Charta of-Sol-fa.

Sick of a land where virtue dwells no more,
See Liberty prepar'd to quit our shore!
Pruning her pinions, on yon beacon'd height
The goddess stands, and meditates her flight;
Now spreads her wings, unwilling yet to fly,
Again o'er Britain casts a pitying eye;

the Mediterranean: as the nation was unluckily the only victim on that occasion, the lenity of our aquarian judicature has, I think, evidently proved, that a court-martial and a martial-court are by no means synonymous terms.

7 The reader will readily conclude these lines were written before our worthy admirals Anson and Warren had so eminently distinguished themselves in the service of their country.

« EelmineJätka »