POETIC IMPRESSIONS Entered at Stationers" Hall. POETIC IMPRESSIONS. WITH SCRAPS AND MEMORANDUMS. Including the Washing Day, Ironing Dayj Brewing Day ; Quarter Day j And Saturday. BY HENRY LEE, Author of Dath, a Tale ; Caleb Qjuotem; <$•<:. LONDON: PBIVTEO FOR SHERWOOD, NEELY, AND JONES, PATERNOSTER ROW. 1817- Syle, Printer, Barnstaple. ADVERTISEMENT. SOME of the following Pieces have already appeared, and been honored with the indulgence of the Public ; they are now presented in an amended state, accompanied with a considerable portion of original matter. H.L. 822183 PREFACE POETIQUE. "Impressions! JPocfcet "Book ! and Scraps ! What may these words impart? Examine, and they'll prove, perhaps, The Tablet of the Heart. The heart was once, as C lipid taught, The lover's only carej And each fond Scrap of happy thought Was memorandum' d there ! But modern swains to interest look — They scan Love's page, hut mock itj The heart with them — a clasp'd blank hook, And merely for — the Pocket! CONTENTS. Page Advertisement Hi Preface Poetique v Poetic Impressions 1 Epigram 3 The Jewel 4 Laura 5 Marianne 7 Revenge 9 Dick and his Lordship 10 Celina 11 The Lover 13 Epigram 16 Vlll CONTENTS. Page Love and Beauty 17 Argument 18 Canto 1st 19 Lecture 21 Canto 2d 31 Argument 32 Observation 46 Tribulation [VVasbing Day] 53 Problem and Answer 56 Sea Side Reflection 57 The Insult 59 Refinement 60 Supposed Reply 6l A Wish 62 The Fop and Echo 63 Fair Play 63 Aggravation [Ironing Day] 69 A Short Apology 74 Faith, Hope, and Charity f5 The Music of this Ode has been recently, published by the Composer Mr. J. LACY, W. M. of the Lodge of Five Orders, Salisbury, and dedicated by permission to His Royal Highness the DUKE OF SUSSEX, Grand Master of the United Lodges of England, and sung at Freemasons' Hall, before His Royal Highness, at his express command, and has since been frequently sung at Provincial Meetings by BROTHER HARRINGTON. CONTENTS. IX Page All's Right .,,,,.. 78 Life ....... 79 Choice Reading .,. 80 Inconstancy . .- 84 Chcsterfieldism 85 Something .... 87 Gambling 88 Vexation [Brewing Day] 89 The Excuse 92 Jockey 93 Epigram gy Sound versus Sense 98 Rose of the Vale 99 Bo-peep 102 Liberality 103 The Will 104 Trepidation [Quarter Day] 105 Marriage Ill Inexperience '. 112 The Smile 113 Evening Sea Side 115 Friendship . t 121 Belles Lettres ] Tl Provocation [Saturday] 123 X CONTENTS, Page Roses . . 149 Paradox 150 Jolly Topers 151 Simplicity 154 Fable 155 Candour 159 Occasional Prologue l6l Epitaph 164 Orphan Mary 1 65 Sympathy 1 66 Phoebe Rowe 167 Little Old Woman 170 Beauty 1/3 The Wife 174 Making Love 1 75 Extra Lines on Candour 177 Geraldine 1 79 Taste 181 Punch 183 Delusion 1 85 3 iiJocfcct ISooft of LOVE. POETIC IMPRESSIONS. WHAT magic power a Lover's fancy warms He nature culls to paint a favorite's charms : Sunshine and shade he in her face can view ; The tear a shower, the lip carnation dew! B POETIC IMPRESSIONS. On violet beds with ber he can repose, Each smile a jonquille, and her breath a rose! Ye Genii of the Shades— Ye ruling powers, What groups of fragrant shrubs ! what beauteous flowers ! Plere tender lilies all their charms display, Coy minionettes with balmy breezes play ! In sweet idea pinks and daisies spread, The crocus blooms, the snow-drop rears its head : Tulips with all the rainbow's colours dyed, And hoary Winter boasts a Summer's pride : The sun awhile withdraws his cheerful ray, Yet love's own sweet-briar feels eternal day ! E'en when December sends his chilling snow, The jessamine of love more fresh will glow ! Where budding sympathies of soul prevail, Affection's woodbines perfume eveiy gale ; EPIGRAM With sacred rites the playful tendrils twine, Sweet matchless evergreens at Beauty's shrine ; In Hymen's fane they hang with grace profound, And scatter fragrance o'er the hallow'd ground ! EPIGRAM. Once at tea with some Ladies, a Newmarket 'Squire Rose to hand round the toast which was placed at the fire — But the touch burnt his fingers — he stamp'd and he swore, And then quitting his hold, dropt the whole on the floor : All the company titter' d — young Turf cried, elate, 'Well — the Heat I have gain'd, tho' it seems lost the Plate ! " POCKET BOOK THE JEWEL. J. he brightest gems but cloud that face Where Love a spotless heaven can trace I For how should art, or borrow'd rays, Add splendor to the solar blaze i One jewel only Love can prize — Tis — Pity's pearl in Beauty's eyes ! ECONOMY. LAURA. K^vTiD, tho' blind, yet prone to kill, Oft shot his darts at random ; Venus took from her dove a quill, And wrote this jWemorantrunn Son, waste not quivers as of old, For know — and this the fact is — Since modern darts are tipt with gold, Expensive is the practice. When I'm not by, thou shoot' st astray ; I've mark'd and oft deplored it. Waste not, my son, our stock in play ; Indeed we can't afford it. POETIC IMPRESSIONS. "This scroll then take — [her boy she kiss'd] " Tis for thy good I wrote it; {t Wear it a bracelet on thy wrist, " And in my absence note it." ' A droll conceit — [the urchin laugh'd] • This hint tho' may suffice; * If I'm too blind to guide a shaft, * How read your quaint device ? • Yet, mother I'll your humour suit; 1 My plan your drift ensures, ' Henceforth with Laura's eyes I'll shoot, f For, mother, they are youk's! ' SONG. MARIANNE. X ho' the Poets, for ages, in numbers harmonious Have sung of the beauties of Greece and of Rome, Now to prove all their tine flowing praises erroneous, A far greater beauty I'll show you at home ! With impatience you'll ask of what beauty I'm telling— Her name I'll pronounce, and then match her who can ! 'Tis not Laura, or Hero, or Dido, or Helen, But a name more inviting — 'tis sweet Marianne ! As to what has been said of the beauties celestial, Old poets were dunces, or else told us lies : Could they see Marianne, tho' we call her terrestrial, They'd thiuk her an angel just dropt from the skies ! POCKET BOOK With this damsel compared, fair Diana's a gipsy, Minerva, so masculine, looks like a man j Madam Juno from envy I'm sure would get tipsy, And Venus turn pale, could they see Marianne ! Marianne with a sweet fascination can charm you ; Such magical influence lurks in her eye, No dark spirit of evil has pow'r to alarm you, No baneful event can approach when she's nigh. Marianne is a name, too, so sweet in the sounding, All nature appears to have join'd in the plan, And aloud in her praise, from Earth's summits rebounding, Fond Echo repeats— Marianne ! Marianne! EPIGRAM. REVENGE; OB, FATHERLY KINDNESS. A vixen Wife, who felt the horsewhip's smart, Ran to her Father — begg'd he'd take her part. " What was your fault ? (said he) come, state the case." *I threw some coffee in my husband's face, 'For which he beat me ! ' — "Beat you, did he? — S'lifc ! "He beat my Daughter ! — then I'll beat his Wife! "If, for such faults, he gives my dear Child pain, " Come but bis Wife, I'll flog her home again ! " This said, most amply he revenged his daughter, And stopt domestic squabbles ever after ! 10 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. DICK AND HIS LORDSHIP. " Bless your Honor!" cried Dick, thus addressing a Lord, " Will your Honor vouchsafe just to grant me a word? — '* Be your Honor a King? " — ' Me, a King ! — no, nor Queen !' •* You don't look like an Ace ! "—'Pshaw ! you dunce, what d'ye mean?* ** Why, as how you're an Hbwor— which he it, I crave ? "Neither King, Queen, nor Ace!-— then you must be a Knave!" IURTH DAY. 11 CELINA. Addressed to a young Lady, who was born at SUN-RISE, and near the time of the VERNAL EQUINOX. 1 he fair C elina, charming, loveliest maid, Offspring of bliss, of pure and spotless mould ! The happy moment she our earth illumed, Mark'd and proclaim'd her favorite of the skies ! For with the morn, the vernal sun, she came, And threw a radiance on each distant pole. When first the ethereal vital spark was given, Nature, enamour'd of the being form'd, Attentive gazed awhile and gave it sex ! And now thro' oriental chambers straight 12 POCKET BOOK. i .. . '. The new created fair was fondly borne, In shadows cloath'd, by quick pulsations warm'd, With nurture infantive and seeds of thought ! A cherub brightness soon her form attain' d As toward the starry threshold of the sky She by excursive flight essay' d her powers! The golden portal raised, alert she sprung, And on the downy pinions of the air, Thro' azure fields, 'mid countless orbs of fire, With lightning's speed she wing'd her devious course. Just as she reach'd the precincts of our spheres, And ere yet poised upon this globe terrene, To glad men's hearts and grace her natal hour, The heavens in kindness oped their sacred vase, And pour'd broad day light o'er the dark half world. MAN. 13 THE LOVER FauUclantl. " What! happy and I away '—Every mirthful moment iii absence, is a treason to love." Sheridan. Jtlow capricious are men, as the lords of the earth, Every thought, every action will prove j But the strangest of beings that ever had birth, Is the man who is really in love ! He'd his idol engross, — nay, in social despite, Hold her pent as in circumscribed zone j Could he even fix bounds to the orbit of sight, She would gladden no eyes but his own ! 14 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. He oft wounds her with doubts, yet will kneel and adore — Opes her letter— it glows with her sigh ! And what pleases him most are some words blotted o'er By a tear-drop that fell from her eye. Youth and beauty, 'tis said, the fierce tygers respect, But a lover less clemency knows j E'en the freshness of youth he deems passion's neglect, And to coldness ascribes beauty's rose ! Yes ! he likes the wan cheek where soft sorrow's exprest- Tis the paleness of love's anxious fear j Views the faint languid eye — it bespeaks want of rest— • And exults at the heart-distill'd tear ! THE LOVER. 15 E'en her thoughts he'd restrain with despotic control ; Not content with her beauties alone ; He would fetter each nerve, nay, imprison her soul, To enrapture, enfranchise his own ! To the altar he leads her — the torch Hymen lights ; There the lover his bondage applies ; There his victim is bound, while he joins in the rites., Mid the perfume, the incense of sighs ! 16 POCKET BOOK, EPIGRAM. A. fop oft strutted through a farmer's yard, Nor paid the owner e'en the least regard : "Stop,mun, (cried Hodge) dostknowme?"—' Know you, boor? ' I never saw your ugly face before ! ' "But I've seen thine (said Hodge) this month, I swear." ' A month, you clown ! I've been but nine days here!' " Nine days ! not see? ah, now the cause I find — " Puppies (quoth Hodge) be always nine days blind." LOVE AND BEAUTY; OR, ECONOMY IN THE CLOUDS. IK TWO CANTOS. CANTO I. 3tgunuttt« Venus addresses her son Capid : — [t is not said exactly where, but certainly not on Earth!]— * On Albion's coast, within a trice, * A royal pair may share it.' * Here Cupid turn'd a cup to rince; Venus sipp'd vie Napthalic, Took of Idalian dust a pinch, As we take smift' cephalic ! •This, at the time it was spoken, inifrbt have been regarded as prophecy ; now it appears mure like matter of faet, though it is uot certain what Royal personages ant Eluded '•• 28 POCKET BOOK. A vapour-mirror seem'd to rise She view'd herself within it, Reclined her head and closed her eyes For very near a minute I But sleep ethereal is so pure, Has such refreshing powers, One minute more fatigue can cure Than e'en whole nights of ours! Tis at these times, the artist's sight At heavenly objects peeping, Can give by nature's tints delight, And show us Venus sleeping. No mortal eye could e'er withstand The blaze of waking beauty, So, while she sleeps, the trembling hand Performs this sacred duty. REPOSE. 29 But hush — for silence now is best, Or Sommus oaths may rap out j Let Cupid take a moment's rest, And Venus have her nap out. End of Canto I. LOVE AND BEAUTY j OR, ECONOMY IN THE CLOUDS. CANTO II. CANTO II. argument. After a short pause, Cupid and Venus enter again into conversation: they talk of Poetry, then gossip a little. Venus resumes her lecture— gives a most affecting account of etherial difficulties and celestial state embarrassments, which ought to reconcile mortals to their fate, whenever they feel inclined to grumble at a few trifles of this sort that may occasionally happen to afflict them ! The Queen of Beauty seems to apprehend (groundlessly we will hope) a crisis when she and her Mind son, the God of Love, will be reduced to the most abject state of penury ! She concludes with a very serious admonition to economy, andso appropriately addresses her arguments to the seat of understanding, that they strike the reader with irresistible force, and furnish an observation that is at once natural, weighty, and conclusive! LOVE AND BEAUTY j OR, ECONOMY IN THE CLOUDS! CANTO II. V enus and son — awhile suppose That she her boy caress'd ; The urchin, sweetly smiling, rose, And thus the daine addressed. o 34 POCKET BOOK. ' Ah ! who is that, in murky cloak, 'Fast striding 'cross th' Equator?'* " I saw him, child, before you spoke— " It is the poet Satyr." * The God of Love hav ing always been represented blin d, making him thus perceire an object at a distance, may be thought an oversight. But it must be understood that this heart-piercing personage, though blind on certain occa- sions, is on others quite the reverse. He has the power of unloosing his fabulatory bandage, and assuming an appear- ance as unique as his faculties are extraordinary : — At pleasure he becomes endowed with the ears of Echo and the eyes of Argus, frequently hearing what was never uttered, and seeing things that never existed ! He knows them by sympathetic intuition, or rather by what is termed ♦poetical second-sight.' In short, Love, like Genius, is blind (absolutely and positively blind) only in one parti- cular — namely, blind to his ovm interest! SAGACITY. 35 r Has he been at his wonted tricks ' And caught at last a tripping } ' *' O, no! he treads on politics, " And is afraid of slipping I " A varying, ticklish path to keep— " I once blamed his temerity : u He said, his readers soon would sleep, " Without the lash severity. 94 Unless (he argued) wit came pat, " He could not keep from starving) " But as to party this or that, " He did not care a farthing. '*' The 7ns and Outs he thought the same, " Tho' different plans they hinted ; u The eyes that now look'd right towards fame, u Sometimes look'd left, or squinted." 36 POCKET BOOK. * He states (cried Cupid) what's untrue,- ' Lampooning me and you, ma, — ' That we Endymion's secret knew, ' His tete-a-tete with Luna. * By paths (he says) We seek, and plot ' That love-yokes may'nt be worn j ' Then leave the road by Hymen's cot, • And turn for old Cape Horn!' " Pshaw! let the fellow run his course " To earn himself a dinner, w For day by day, as things get worse, " His visage will get thinner ! " Hunger breeds megrims in the head, " Increasing with the times ; " But soon his readers, wan-ting bread, " Will buy no more his rhymes. REMONSTRANCE. 37 " Besides, tho' not obliged to Satyr, '* Most poets serve our ends, " For those who simply follow nature " Are Love and Beauty's friends. " Tis thought indeed if not for verse, " Men are so selfish grown, " They would not e'en our names rehearse j " We scarcely should be known. • " Some plodding wits are reasons giving " To prove our actions wrong : " In fact, we're dead amongst the living, " And only live in song ! f* But stay ! I'll now my theme pursue—. " To which you have attended ; " — • Oh, what your Jlecture, ma ? pray do ; ' I wish to hear it ended ! * 38 POCKET BOOK. " List, then, my child, I've nearly done, "The sum of all — Be prudent: '* We folks above are so hard run, " We can t get old or new rent : " For since the gods the use decreed n Of casji at all their portals, f* The times are very had indeed, * As bad with us, as mortals! *' Tis strange but true, (too well known how) •* By tax and rate progressions "A man may soon be ruin'd now, u In having large possessions ! " Peace smiles not yet, tho' nations woo hex, " She still looks war, or war-ishj " Few parishes maintain their poor, • Their poor are all tbe parish ! EMBARRASSMENT. 39 " At sea, tho' moored each hostile prow, " Commerce ne'er hoists her pennant ; " On land, the landlord holds the plough, " In jail the recent tenant. " All Ceres' crops, ere out of ground, " Are sold with next year's vintage t " The state regalia can't be found, " No bullion in the mintage ! • f Fortune, adrift, her fat» bemoans, "Lest threatening storms should wreck her j " High pilotage and heavy loans " Have draiu'd the sky-exchequer. " E'en Atlas' arm can't hold up stocks— " Old Boreas puffs unmeasurely ; " Mercury has pick'd all Vulcan's locks, u And piundcr'd Plutus' treasury ! 40 POCKET BOOK. "But where were all the clerks, you'll say, "The sentry, too, on guard? '* Oh — they were gone to see the play — "The Droll* in Palace-yard: " A donkey- race and pig-run-catch, " With skipping-rope elastic ; " Sly Momus had a grinning-match, " And ^Egon games gymnastic ! * Commentators do not perfectly agree as to what was once the exact meaning of this word : whether " The Droll" signified the name of the performance or Ihe place of representation, or whether it designated some particular favorite performer; as we now say — "The Siddons^"— "The Kemble,"— i«The Kean," &c — It is conjectured, however, that the mystery on this point greatly heightened the amusement, for it sometimes happens, that the less a thing is understood', the more certain it is of being generally entertaining. ALARM. 41 " Doubtless such princely sports to see,* " For clerks there some excuse was,- " And during these — by Mercury " The robbery and abuse was. " Tho' hue and cry flew round next day, " All ended as begun here ; " For Mercury is, at times, some say, " Ethereal Bow-street runner! . \ \ * The games alluded to, though perhaps little known to vulgar mortals, are highly celebrated and esteemed in the upper circles! Exhibitors in the "grinning match" are elegantly ornamented with a horse-collar; and in the ** pig-run," the aspiriug candidate is honorably rewarded with a delicate pretty porker, provided he can — cafe* it. 42 POCKET BOOK. u And hence he kept all fair in show, " With knavery close connected ;* " He even managed matters so, " As not to be suspected ! " You, son, I know, the theft can prove, "But like not the commission; "Mercury himself could ne'er cheat Love, "For Love is all suspicion ! * Something like this has since taken place amongst the light-footed gentlemen attached to the Police Offices in London.— There is no inconsiderable analogy between what has been ascribed to Mercury (the " swift-wing'd" herald of the gods) and some of the modern characteristics of a Bow-street runner. Homer and other potts deno- minate Mercury as "swift-wing'd" and "light-footed," but in the present ease it certainly would be better to say light-Jingcred .' BAD TIMES. 43 " But trick and cheat — I'll now go on, " As I've in part related— "Tricks are forgot as soon as done, • Things get so complicated. " E'en amorous Jove, as wont of old " And prone to frolic caper, u Can't tempt his Danaes now with gold— " He courts in showers of paper ! u Yet here again his pleasure's lopp'd, •* His bills but few will discount j " And since old Midas' bank has stopt, • No one will credit his 'count ! " In floating mediums we've had sharks • O'er waves of paper curling ; *' E'en Croesus' bond for forty marks " Is not worth one pound sterling! 44 POCKET BOOK. "Dame Fortune's wheel has ta'en such rounds " Not one secure in ten is ; " Banks coin no more waste paper pounds, " We've saving banks for pennies ! * * Great mistakes Lave often arisen from the smallest typographical errors. In a lately printed document on Economy, entitled " An excellent SAVING PLAN," an intrusive Y had usurped the place of V, so that the sentence stood "An excellent SAYING PLAN."— The parties to whom the words were addressed, more attentive to the letter than to the spirit of the design, not perceiving the error, most assiduously employed them- selves for several weeks in writing and saying all they could devise, but without saving even a single penny! and tis feared the mistake has become general — that the SAYing idea has superseded the SAVing one, and that there is more economy in talk than in reality. / SAVING PLAN. 4u5 " Therefore, dear son, be careful, do; " I prythee:take a peg in; " Tis fear'd, else, Love, and Beauty too, ** Must shortly go a begging. *' One saving plan I can impart, " Load all thy shafts with lead ; " Shoot thou no longer at the heart, ** But point blank at the head ! " For why should darts of gold be used " To feed a selfish passion > " No, let each brain with lead be bruised, "Till truth's again in fashion." Here Venus loos'd her doves in air — " My son, the point we'll settle — " I beg you'll down to earth repair, " In search of grosser metal." 46 POCKET BOOK. Of what events have happen'd since No one can give narration : Conjecture may in part evince, By way of ®6$erfcatfotn Both high and low have caught the hint, ' Retrench ! Retrench !' resounding j On every side — at least in print, Economy abounding ! Mars on half pay retires with gracej Old Neptune's hands are pure j Minerva strikes out every place That's deem'd a sinecure ! DISCRETION. 47 The pruning knife omits no spot, No shade that's overgrown, The brambles that surround the cot Or cedars near the throne. Tis not retrenchment when we say To clerk, his spare meal carving, Your chief retires — but on full pay— And you — without a farthing. Not so the case — at least of late j By regular gradation The pressure bears with equal weight On every rank and statiou. Discretion's office, vacant long, Has all the rest supplanted ; There, without bribe, tho' numbers throng, Each application's granted. 48 POCKET BOOR. The state machine, through mire and ruts Long jogging, 'gan to reel: To keep it going, each one puts His shoulder -to the wheel. And hence, tho* great its width and length, Tis now from danger freed, For Ajax adds his mighty strength, And Atalanta speed. Toil now has lost of shame the sting And yet preserved the honey ! Affection quaffs Castalia's spring, Nor rakes the bank for money. The body politic, twas said, Could not her wounds endure, But -(Esculapius lends his aid And promises a cure. REFORM. 49 Through all Elysium joys abound, Each bard sings Io Pcean; At Dian's sports Hygeia's found, A hunting with Actaeon. Arcadians tune their native lay With rustic pipe and tabor; Apollo re-assumes his play, And Hercules his labour. The discontented lose their cares— On Lethe's bank their fate is ; Bluff Charon plies at Styx' old stairs, And ferries over gratis. True Wisdom guides the public voice, None need a bint from Mentor j In full employ all ranks rejoice, " And laugh as loud as Steutor. E £0 POCKET BOOK, Passion respects Decorum' s bound, Tho' shunning dull formality; And striqt Economy walks round Where strutted Prodigality. The golden apple, Paris' prize, On Ida stored for years, Is sold, instead of fresh supplies, To pay off old arrears. Pallas, who late a pension bore, Her country's good supine in ; Proves she deserves her pension more By readily resigning. Some few there are (deny't who can) That won't give way the least ; The Cyclops cling ; so does old Pan,- But Pan is half a beast ! BETTER TIMES. .51 ,, ' * " . ' ' ■ T- , — , — Sweet Flora trims each wasteful branch Where gay exotics flirt, Pomona spares the chine and haunch, And dines on the dessert. Bacchus resolves less bowls to quaff, His toping train dismissal ; Mars lops off half his former staff, And Jove his civil list. Dame Juno sticks to household cares, Nor Argus pays for peeping j Bellona quits her state affairs, Nor sets the world a weeping. Doctors and lawyers give up fees, Votes are no longer bought j Statesmen renounce their salaries, And do their work for nought. J2 POCKET BOOK. High rank and state drop coach parade. No more their tradesmen balk} Rather than leave a bill unpaid The truly Great now walk. So strong the economic fit, No needless speech is spoke, The Muse grows sparing of her wit, And Momus saves his joke. Hence Cupid, as we've seen of late, The " saving plan " maintains, And hence, in many a swain's didl pate Is found more lead than brains ! End of Poem. TRIBULATION. Is there a day within the circling year That shakes the nerves and fills the heart with fear, Destroys all comfort and distracts the head, In short, what husbands deem a day of dread ? Yes, there is one — that one of dire dismay, The dismal, doleful, woeful WASHING-DAY ! 54 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. Imagine, then, young Sally and her mistress, Up to their elbows soused in suds and business. " How, Sal ! two sheets dy'e want? (said Mrs. Pother) "Pshaw ! make a shift with one, and wash the other." Sally, who's head on finery was dreaming, A curtsey dropt, well pleased, and thankful seeming. 'Mid froth and fume she now drudged on in haste, Too anxious e'en a moment's time to waste ; All day she rubb'd, yet still kept up her spirits, Her hands and wrists as red as eyes of ferrets ! But heedless Salj nor did she once complain, Till all was washd and wrung, or hung to drain. At night, up stairs she march' & — but not to bed, ''Making a shift" still running in her head; — To work she went — cut out a shift and sew'd it ; Wishing it smart, she frill'd and furbelow'd it. Next morn her mistress chanced the shift to see, She scolded — storm'd 1 — Poor Sal replied, ' Dear me ! RETORT. $5 —BB S: ■ . ■• ■ f— " ,■..-.-.-»>., fa. ■ Have I offended, ma'am ? how know your drift ? ' You said I must with one sheet make a shift. * Tis done \ and with the other, if I'm right, 'I'll try to make another shift to-night.' ** Zounds, what ! (exclaim' d the mistress) steal my goods ! (Her anger foaming like the hot soap suds) " Quick, jade, and fetch the sheet from off your bed, " With rug and blanket make a shift instead: " I won't with shifty trieks like this agree ; " Make-shift excuses will not do for me." (This said, she bounced and bluster'd — toss'd her nose, Her frame and features rumpling like her cloaths) ■ Well then, (cried Sul) if thus you scold and flout me, ' Your place I lcave-*-so make a shift without m< 56 POCKET BOOR. PROBLEM. J3y "poetic comparison give definition Of — a man truly brave — and — a deep Politician. ANSWER. True courage, like poem heroic, is wont To bear all its argument boldly in front ; While Policy's drift does to epigram tend, Seeking only to carry its point — in the end. EVENING. 57 A SEA-SIDE REFLECTION. Written at LYME, Dorset. X>usY, bustling Sea, give o'er Idly beating 'gainst the shore ! Why this seeming senseless rage Foaming on from age to age ? Would thy waters quit the main, Straight they hurry back again ! Useless must this haste appear, Still recurring as they were. £8 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. Swelling now, with boisterous din Wave o'er wave still tumbling in, Advancing and retreating each Rake to and fro the pebbled beach j The billows that first touch the coast Recede and are in others lost, Which, rolling, pressing toward the land, Break furious and assail the strand ! So, in the ocean of the mind We busy boisterous passions find ; Our hopes and fears alternate roll And rush tempestuous o'er the soul ! Love's rising billows touch the beart, And thence repell'd, they break apart J Recursive still from boundaries sought . They rake the nervous beach of thought j EPIGRAM. 59 While urged by Apprehension's gale, As Fancy's high spring tides prevail, Hope foams with joy and mounts in air Or dashes on the rock Despair ! HIE INSULT. IN ed, cries a fopliug — could you it suppose ? Old Surly says, he'll take nie by the nose ! What shall I do? — What do ! says Ned, displeased — Why, always mind — to keep your nose well greased. 60 POCKET BOOK REFINEMENT. Hearts most refined and souls most pure The best sensations know ; But do they not at times endure A greater share of woe ? The fairest flowers are first annoy' d And soonest feel decay ; So fairest maids are first decoy' d And soonest fade away ! The sweetest hours the fleetest are ; Sad moments slowly move. The shortest joys are happiest far ; Ah, witness those of lov« ! AFFECTION. 61 SUPPOSED REPLY To the foregoing. 1 he Muse perhaps in these remarks is erring — Short joys, tho' sweet, are not the happiest known j Each heart can witness what I'm now averring — Regret too oft succeeds when joy is flown ! Protracted joy augments a lovers blisses; His hopes and his felicities increase When joy is multiplied by added kisses, Which sweeten life, till life itself doth cease. 62 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. A WISH. C/OULD the rapt Muse accomplish her desire, From earth she'd dart, through water, air, and fire ! Aloft with eagle wing would proudly soar, And shape a flight, unseen, unsought before J Imagination's wildest boundaries range, And " airy nothing's " local confines change ! She'd scan thro' nature, fathom depths unknown. And with gigantic grasp make all her own ! From Poesy divine would borrow grace, The mystic labyrinths of Science trace, Then skim Creation's realms, and fly to endless space ! A MODERN MULE. 63 THE FOP AND ECHO. When cits on horseback take the air, And wits to Rotten Row repair, Saddles to mules compared have been, As placed a horse and ass between ; And others think the Fribble no man, But something man between and woman. Abroad Sir Fopling chanced to stray, Tis said (tbo' in the month of May) The sun forbore to shine that day, Or else abroad he had not wander'd, But in some shady spot Philander'dj— 64 POCKET BOOK. (Vile, naughty sun! enough to vex one; Thou foe to delicate complexion!) Or, 'mused himself all day within doors, Before a glass placed 'tween two windows, In which more earnestly he'd look, And thrice as oft as in a book ; Unless that book should treat of watches, Chains, seals, and rings — cosmetics, patches ! Within a grove, unseen, unheard, Except by Echo, who each word Promptly received, and then for sport Return'd the same with shrewd retort. Oft as he sigh'd " Sweet Venus ! Cupid ! " Echo replied Between us — stupid ! VANITY. G5 Now on a fish-pond's bank he stood, His image viewing in the flood, Awhile he look'd, the silly elf Pretended not to know himself : "That beauteous face (said he) and shape, To whom can they belong ? " Echo An Ape ' " One of the graces, by the look ! "Or else the goddess of the brook ! "O form divine! indulge a hope "That thou wilt clasp my neck" Echo A Rope ! "All mortal maids shall wear the willow ! "Thou best wilt suit these arms — " Echo A Pillow > And now a fish that lurk'd hard by, Sportive arose to catch a fly; p 66 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. The ruffled waves, in circles flowing, Obscure the shade, — tis — going — going! A lesson to the foppish race, It shews how wrinkles spoil a face ! But far averse to thoughts like these, His own dear form too much could please ! His hand he placed upon his breast, Where hearts (if fops have any) rest, And still indulging in his pride, Of self-importance full, he cried r( Why, e'en the graces lack my shapes ! "Assume my features ! " Echo Jack a napes ! " Thousands of damsels have caress'd me, " Nay, every one I see — " Echo Detest thee ! CONCEIT. 67 "Girls on me look and doat, yet doubt ! "Ah, pretty Bell ! you sigh — " Echo Get out ! "The greatest beauties fain would choose me, "Not one on earth but would — " Echo Refuse thee ! "All smiling sweet ! what tempting flocks conic !" Echo. All vile conceit — thou empty coxcoml! 68 POCKET BOOK FAIR PLAY. Sophy is fair — has /airly caught my mind! But is it fair that she should be unkind ? My thoughts I /airly state — as clear as day j Then /airly ask for her's — 'tis but fair play. Her smiles I /airly court, she frowns despair ! I look, and love, in vain — does this seem fair? I once gave Sophy kisses — 'twas in fun — I now those kisses claim — I even dun — But she — can it be fair? — won't give me one ! AGGRAVATION. One day of dread is o'er — but ills are double, Now conies the IRONING-DAY— -all toil and trouble ! An ironing-day's an iron age to rue — Too sad a truth, altho' tis irony ! A thousand ills ray heated frame environ, Whene'er I'm ruffled by a smoothhig iron! 70 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. My pen I snatch and try to write plain prose, Some burning tag-rag stuff offends ray nose; For purer air I'm each apartment seeking, But noxious vapours every where are reeking ! Put to strange shifts, and numerous shifts while trying, I'm shivering wet, when all things round are drying. Tis worse, far worse, than standing with bare feet At Christmas, doing penance in a sheet ! I pace the garden, heavy as a sledge, " Linen (as Falstaff says) on every hedge." There fringed curtains waft like clouds in air, Each ruffled shirt's "a ravell'd sleeve of care." Vainly I muse on poesy divine, A dismal gloom is thrown o'er every line. Winds as they blow, long trains of terror spread, Frill'd caps and gown-tails flapping 'gainst my head ! My path-way's stopt — to find the track is puzzling — I'm clasp'd by calicoe, or wrapt in muslin ! DISMAY. 71 Walking, 1 stoop to 'scape the flying evils, Where long-prong'd sticks stand up like forked devils ! Each holly-hush, tall shruh, or painted post, A pallid spectre seems or green-eyed ghost ! From houghs suspended, bodied gowns I see, As if a Bateman hung on every tree ! * * The ever memorable Mr. Bateman — a pattern to all tine lovers — suspended himself from the bough of a tree, in the garden belonging to the young lady who was the object of his passion.— —Mr- Bateman's biographers differ iu one respect: Some say that he committed the rash aet at the chamber door of his mistress, and others, that he hung himself on a cherry- free! now a third party (the commentators) start an idea, which is probably the truth, a> it reconciles both the former .o count--, and which is, That the unfortunate Mr. Bateman hung himself twice; once at the chamber door, and secondly on an apple-tree! — They go so far as to add (but whether true or not we cannot say) that the particular tree on which he hung himself, bore that species of fruit called the Apple-John; and that it derived its name from this circumstance ; for on con- 72 POCKET BOOR. My house once more I enter — all annoys, Throwing, as 'twere, wet blankets o'er my joys: ' suiting the parish register, it is found that his christian name was John, the son of Joannes Bateman. Thus it appears, that to the fate of Mr. John Bateman we owe the denomination of that delicious fruit called the Ap\>]e-John .' a fruit, of which the lady in question was very fond. But to proceed : In the first instance, when Mr. Bateman suspended himself at the chamber door, the noise very naturally alarmed the lady, who, coming out in time, cut him down with her scissars, which she happened just then to be using, her left hand being thrust into a silk stocking, with a new Whitechapel needle stuck therein. — This peculiar incident was categorically noticed at the coroner's inquest, and considered of very material consequence : — The lady however not relaxing in her cruelty, Mr. Bateman's "tragic job" was the next day completed in the orchard! There is no doubt but the account here given is the true one; and the reason why it has been hitherto suppressed, is, because it reflects hard upon the lady; and perhaps is the only part of her conduct that is reprehensible; for say what we will, if she did not mean to give his passion a suitable return, why did she TORMENT. 73 I dare not speak — am told the work it hinders — To lend a hand were but to burn my fingers. Tormented thus, of life itself I tire, Plagued with so many irons in the fire ! feed liira with hopes even to the last? — for was not this feeding him with hopes? — false hopes!— Let any lover imagine himself hung up in the same manner and thus cut down by the fair hand of his mistress! — on reviving, would not hope be the first thiug he would catch hold of ?~would not he naturally say to himself, Ah! she wishes me to live! — she has indeed saved my life! and consequently means to make me happy '.—Alas! alas ! Mr.Bateman (like most lovers) argued wrongly ! Poor dear man ! He remains a memorable example of ill-fated love, and his mistress a remark- able instance of implacable cruelty ! — Mr. Bateman was not a frivolous every-duy lover; but such a one as all moderate minded young ladies would wish for! His was real affection! no mimicking make-believe counterfeit passion; but downright doleful deep despondiug pensive pining poring solemn sighing sobbing serious sentimentality!! " lie who hangs or knocks out Vs brains, 44 The devil's in him if he feigns ! n 74 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. A SHORT APOLOGY. Addressed to a little lover who had been rejected, and a taller one preferred. In cases like your's, what is stature to prove ? Tho' a pigmy in size, you're a giant in love ! Could mind be embodied, and thought take a form, You'd b 86 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. Politeness bids me give a friend attention ; He, in return, may friendly actions show : — In seeming friends there's nought claims reprehension; If harm, it lies in our not being so. Let honest principles direct the heart, On truth and nature's genuine precepts feeding; Kind actions then will banish tinsel'd art, And render useless— lessons on good breeding ! A QUESTION. 87 SOMETHING. Is there not something, heavenly bright. Beyond all others in delight, A pulse, so exquisitely nice, It ne'er was known to vibrate twice ; But felt, it soothes pain's keenest smart, And warms to ecstacy the heart; Lost while we glean the joys of sense, What Wisdom's self can't recompense; Not life's best treasure, a good name, Nor that more dazzliug object, fame 1 — 88 POCKET BOOK. The smile of those who're great and wise, This somethings place but ill supplies! Grant all we've wish'd, from first to last, We still lament this something past ! Mysterious' void ! — tho' memory feigns, This joy but as a dream remains ! Say, Youth, can'st thou this something prove ? Thou can'st — if thou hast felt true love. GAMBLING. -A euin'd Gamester once foul play had shown, And, from a second-story-window thrown, Ask'd Will's advice!— The case, said Will, is plain; Observe this rule — don't play so high again ! VEXATION. An ancient Sage (we're told), in dire dismay And grief of heart, exclaim'd " I've lost a day ! " But there's a day that's really worse than lost, A day with thousands of vexations crost : I mean the day in which good housewives BREW, When all is one grand mess, one general stew ! 90 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. Ere drowsy watchmen bawl " Past two o'clock," The whole house trembles by a thundering knock. From tranquil sleep I'm roused to noisy cares, By servants clattering up and down the stairs '. Dozing I dream— then out of bed I jump, Waked by the creaks and jerkings of the pump ! Vain all attempts to rest, so down I trot, Bowls, bungs, and buckets laid in every spot ! Now looking round — as I the process watch The copper flue is choak'd — it fires the thatch; All is alarm, and fright! — a general halt! Three hours are lost before they mash the malt. While at my breakfast, in the servant pops — " Sir! Bob the hrewer says he wants more hops." 1 Well, get them, then ! ' Now, in tall Betty stalks ; " A barrel leaks, sir, and we're short of corks." HURRY. 91 ' Zounds, buy a gross ! and bid the cooper's man ' Repair the barrel — manage how you can.' The prospect thickens, all with bustle teems, My parlour's fill'd with suffocating steams ! The cooper hums psalm tunes while hooping staves, Bob blows like Boreas o'er the "yesty waves!" " Life's balm" is miss'd, while mist and barm are shower' d, And all life's sweets, by making sweet-wort, sour'd ! Tho' grains remain, no grains of comfort stay, And through the sieves my patience runs away ! While beer is bitter'd, bitter pain begins, I, o'er a scuttle stumbling, break my shins ! Thus maim'd, thus irritated — tcazed by fools, With rage I'm boiling, while the liquor cools. All, all my servants, negligent as Turks, Like idlers stand, while every vessel works ! In vain I preach of loss, in vain 1 rail, Stared in the face by baukruptcy and jail. 92 POCKET BOOK. A day like this would e'en a saint provoke, Midst fretting, fumeing, frothing, fire, and smoke ! Such scouring, scalding, scratching, scrapes, andscruhs! I'm stunn'd with rollings, joltings, thumps, and rubs, Coals, coppers, coolers, beer-barrels, and tubs ! THE EXCUSE. J ane ! where have you loiter'd, and why did you stay ? Hftw long on an errand you've tarried ! Why, I've been to the Church, ma'am; — a round-a-bout way; But, still, 'tis — the way to get married! SPORTING. 93 THE JOCKEY. An Occasional Address, spoken at the Theatre Royal, Bath. .Hoicks ! Hoicks ! — hark forward ! here I am, good sirs, Spank from Newmarket; twig my boots and spurs! I've won the plate! — my match too! — touch'd the cash! The knowing-ones and green-horns — knock'd up ! — smash ! At starting, odds against me — took 'em — done ! Knew well my bottom — push'd — I smoked their fun — Pull'd in, till top'd the hill — then came the run— 94 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. Whiz ! — Go it, beauty ! — right and left — now for't! Dart by 'em — double distanced — that's your sort ! Hold hard — of this enough ! — I'll check the rein, And take a turn in moralizing strain. The world's a rugged course — Time's race will show it ; We all are on the turf, till laid below it. A noted Wit, with truly comic force Has pranced and gallop'd on a hobby-horse ; Suppose I mount and in a canter keep, Just try the ground, but take a different sweep? Mankind I'll treat as joekies — think it true; Actors may also joekies seem to you. In varied dress the Drama's course they run, Give many a spur and cut — but all in fun. DEAD HEATS. 95 Since our Spring Meeting here, wc proudly say Running love-matches, you have seen fair play. Warm work this week — four heats— all run in sight ; Fine sport! and, see! a. crowded course to-night ! With some professions jockeyship's the plan; All jockey one another — when they can. Lawyers and Doctors oft together hustle, Run dev'lish hard, and even cross and jostle. In legal training, clients hands are bound, And Doctors run their patients — under ground ! Some Politicians without bridle ride, And, neck or nothing, gallop side by side ! But should their jades e'er kick, each rider's lost; He's blown — done up — and flung, wrong side the post ! Well mounted on her cliff, or warlike strand, Britannia's views to Freedom's goal expand; She holds the reins of empire in her hand ! 96 POCKET BOOK. Sees a proud navy foremost in the course, To glory train d, resistless in its force, While from its foaming sides, mid thunders hurl'd, A race is rode triumphant o'er the world ! The Ladies, single or in manied state, Will sometimes jockey — at a pretty rate : The gay Cocmette with Cupid's feather starts — Gallops in stile, full speed, in search of hearts. Some fair ones spur admirers by their wit — The fortune-hunter's turn'd by— touch o iK bit : Miss Restiff bolts, when lovers disappoint her — Widows go best, when saddled with a jointure ! The Stage itself 's a course— the coursers we j You in the Manager, head-jockey seej Our Prompter is the groom ; the Critics frown A hard-horn'd curry-comb that scrubs us down ; TRUTH. $7 'Tis you who hold the reins which guide the steed, And your approving hands that cheer his" speed. The race once o'er — the Jockey then withdraws. Proud of that glorious sweepstakes, your applause. EPIGRAM. 1 he world is deceitful ;—at which some have wonder'dj "Not one honest man (exclaims Gripe) in a hundred!" If so, replies Tom, such the practice in vogue, 'Tis a hundred to one, Gripe, hut you are a rogue! u * 98 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. SOUND versus SENSE; A verbal promise not so good as a written one. J. said, when young George, my first Beau, came to woe No Beau will I have, if that Beau be untrue ; And George, may I ever depend upon you? "O yes!" answer'd George: — You'll to church then repaii May I fully rely, George, on having you there ? Again he said "Yes !" — Still I'm left in the lurch, For he writes " — 'Having you,' meant the Yew near the chu "A Yew-tree there stands ; and the 'Beau' not 'untrue — ' "Meant, that Archers for Bows most 'depended' on Yew ! VIRTUE. 99 ROSE OF THE VALE. A Ballad. While Bacchanals boast their gay moments of pleasure, And Misers exult o'er full coffers of treasure, While Heroes contend for the bubble of glory, Let the maid, lovely Rose of the Vale, be my story. Sweet Rose ! lovely Rose ! the fair Rose of the Vale. 'Twas Virtue's bright beam, like the beam of the morning, lUumin'd the village this maiden was born in: If the heart felt a glowing, there vice had no name, For no impulse but love raised the spark to a flame. Sweet Rose ! 102 POETIC IMPRESSIONS, BO-PEEP. lid ach vain admirer fancies he espies Himself reflected in Lauretta's eyes ! So I, presumptuous gazing, smiled to see What seeru'd two flattering <( miniatures of me ! ' Delusive thought ! my heart is now aware Those miniatures are Cupids lurking there, Who daily 'mid the roses of each cheek In frolic gamhol sport at Hide-and-seek j Now laugh, or now in archery delight, Or revel in their hoodwink games at night. E'en as Lauretta dreams in gentle sleep, The Loves and Graces sweetly play Bo-peep. AN ORIGINAL. 103 LIBERALITY. By the world I've oft been told, Very oft indeed, that gold Is the choicest of all hlessings — a treasure ! But to roe, I must declare Tis a burthen, tis a care, Yes, a burthen — a care beyond measure. I consider gold as dross! If I've none then, wbere's the loss ? I am happiest when 1 least think about it : As the fashion goes, tis true Without money folks look blue, And an honest msn can't well do without it. 102 POETIC IMPRESSIONS, BO-PEEP. Ji*ACH vain admirer fancies he espies Himself reflected in Lauretta's eyes ! So I, presumptuous gazing, smiled to see What seem'd two flattering " miniatures of me ! " Delusive thought ! my heart is now aware Those miniatures are Cupids lurking there, Who daily 'mid the roses of each cheek In frolic gambol sport at Hide-and-seek \ Now laugh, or now in archery delight, Or revel in their hoodwink games at night. E'en as Lauretta dreams in gentle sleep, The Loves and Graces sweetly play Bo-peep. AN ORIGINAL. 103 LIBERALITY. J3y the world I've oft been told, Very oft indeed, that gold Is the choicest of all hlessings — a treasure ! But to me, I must declare Tis a burthen, tis a care, Yes, a burthen — a care beyond measure. I consider gold as dross! If I've none then, where' s the loss ? I am happiest when I least think, about it : As the fashion goes, tis true Without money folks look blue, And an honest man can't well do without it. 104 POCKET BOOK. Oh, could I c«in my heart, All around should have a part, For of joy I partake with another; Then what need of gold myself ? With my friends I share the pelf, And every man regard as a brother. THE WILL. Old Dolt, who, when a boy, detested school, Was, yet, (if money makes the man) no fool ! He, near his death, did thus his will declare, ' T give, bequeath, and make my Son a hare!" — His friends all stood amazed, — and thought it shame, That he, while dying, should be making game ! TREPIDATION. In battle's heat, amid ensanguin'd slaughter, E'en Victory's course is stopt by " Quarter! Quarter! " This magic word, with talismanic fear, And awful dread, arrests th' uplifted spear. The only dread that gives the brave renown — ■ The dread, the scorn — to strike a man when down ! 106 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. Since such the influence of a simple sound, That raises whole battalions from the ground, Snatches the hero from an early grave, And rescues e'en what valour could not save — Frightful indeed must he the scene, the hour, When this word "Quarter" nerves the arm of power! When it no conflict stays, but swells it higher, And draws accumulating terrors nigher, Adding, as 'twere, fresh fuel to the fire ! Such time there is ; a time of high control, That damps the noblest energies of soul ! A day of import, too well understood, Far more terrific than the field of blood ! A time when cry of "Quarter" brings dismay, Intestine war, domestic broil and fray, The cry— th' unwelcome cry of— QUARTER DAY ! A THREAT. 107 Tis then, grim catcbpoles stalk throughout the land ! Then legions of blue devils daring stand !— Ha! Who is that, in wig of formal cut ? — Oh — Mr. Teazum! — pray walk in, sir — but ' But, what ? — I hope you are prepared to pay ; * I need not tell you this is Quarter Day ! 1 Folks must be punctual ; — if you'll settle, so— ' If not — can't call again-«^shall send John Doe.' Now shiverings come, and horrid dreams affright ! Shocking by day, most horrible by night ! " (2TQ tUlt," — the worst wit that a man can deal in — And hark! what thundering knock is that now pealing? 'A tradesman, sir, that with you fain would speak j'— I'm not at home, nor shall I be this week. Eh! what? — a BILL of Sale? — my things appraised? Ha ! who is that, as in a pulpit raised ? 108 POCKET BOOK. The chairs and tables move, the china rattles j A going, going — all my goods and chattels ! My wife's choice silks walk off— a bedgown's brought her ; My wine binns all at once seem fill'd with water! The bed-curtains, and bed-posts too, withdraw, And swan-down- feather beds are stuff'd with straw! In our kind neighbour, Mrs. Curious, drops, Prying and pertness in her eyes and chops : 'Dear me ! good lack ! — alarm'd at such a clatter, 'I've just stepp'd in: Do tell me — What's the matter V Matter! (says I) and from her turn away, Matter enough, I think — 'tis Quarter Day ! While in my parlour to and fro I'm bouncing, A messenger arrives, this news announcing — ' Gripus sends word — since you indulgence claim, ' He'll stay proceedings, if a day you'll name.' PERIL. 109 - A day ! — The day of judgment then, I roar, And, as released from peril, slam the door !— Off gallops he, but leaves a bailiff's jobber, A fellow whom I loath — a knave, a robber! Again the herald comes ! — speaks louder — faster— 'The day of judgment will not suit my master. • Besides, he says, he shall that day be busy, ' The very thought of judgment makes him dizzy !' Zounds ! — (with an oath, thus making worse the matter) If not that day — why call then — the day after! Now, on my shoulder, taps I feel, each minute, — My wife ejaculates ' There's nothing in it.' Nothing ! — see there! the bailiff and his writ! The frightful parchment !_' Pshaw, tisbutabit — ' A bit! — 'of cambric, in which work I wrap; ' The writ you see's the pattern of a cap ! ' 110 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. Still Quarter Day keeps running in my pate, And every sound of quarter now I hate. My friend the Colonel — dare not see his face — He's at head quarters, and I shun the place. Lamb is a dish I choose, whene'er I meet it, But now, if cut in quarters, 1 can't eat it. Whate'er reminds of quarter I dislike ; 1 curse the clock because 'twill quarters strike. Nay, e'en at quartern loaves I sometimes start, And faint at beer if brought in hy the quart. Small canes, as quar ter- staffs, my fancy goad, Forming huge toll-gates on my life's high road. AH avenues they cross — I see them must, And read, on every bar, the words — no trust. Throughout Moore's almanack, no evil signs That rule o'er man — his head, feet, back, and loins; Trine, Sextile, Quartile, Saturn, Sol, Aquarius, Mars, Leo, Virgo, Scorpio, Sagittarius - , LOVE. Ill With Capricorn, and all the Zodiac, Enough to make a reader's jaw- hones crack ; Not all, in hieroglyphical array, Bring such dark hodings, such dire ills pourtiay, So ominously black— as QUARTER DAY! MARRIAGE. JVIankind are Misers! — this their actions prove! Denial, oft, is avarice of Love ! But pure affection counteracts the plan, Scorning the holts and bars of selfish man ! In vain are padlocks hung at every door, 'Tis only ffiecMock guards Love's sacred store ! 112 k POCKET BOOK. INEXPERIENCE. X he vernal shoots of early date In April suns delight, Unconscious of impending fate That comes in clouded night. But trees robust, of kindlier birth, In age and strength mature, Well rooted in their native earth, The tempest's rage endure. So mental buds, of blooming youth, Are chill'd in adverse hour, The hardier stems of ripen d truth Defy e'en Time's rude power. LOVELINESS. H3 THE SMILE. As Maria walks forth, the gay circles adorning, What love-fraught refulgence appears in her eye ! Not the sun's orient splendour, or dew-drops of morning, Diffuse such a warmth, so illumine the sky! The aged flock round, proud of doing her favors, And love-stricken youths fain her heart would beguile; She cancels the deht of eternal endeavours With a heam of delight — her benevolent smile! Unreserve, affability, mildness, good-nature, Are softly pourtrayed thro' each scene of her lifej And the candour which sweetly adorns the maid's feature Will ripen to friendship and love, in the wife ! 114 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. The relative tie of parental affection, A duty she ne'er can neglect or revile 5 Dependence e'en loses the thought of subjection; Employ seeks no other reward than her smile ! Her frankness is mark'd by a freedom of feature, Ill-temper or spleen would that freedom remove ; And her sigh, when she views a distress'd fellow-creature, Proves her bosom responsive to pity and love : The laugh that bursts forth at the impulse of feeling Announces a heart, foe to falsehood and guile, But the type that's most perfect, her virtues revealing, Is that beam of delight — her benevolent smile ! MOONLIGHT. U& EVENING SEA-SIDE THOUGHTS. Lyme, Dorset. Vide page 57. 1 he Ocean! — view the vast expanse, O'er which the vivid moon-beams dance! What numerous recollections press ! What fond associations bless ! Sweet Solitude! come, stand thou by; And, Contemplation! bover nigh: Awhile let calm Reflection pause On Nature and on Nature's laws. 116 POCKET BOOK. The World — its cares I throw aside : Imagination, be my guide! Let Genius smile — let Fancy gaze— My soul's entranced, in wild amaze ! Who knows but that swoln wave I see, That billow, rolling on towards me, May be the wave (in Thought's full range, By Season's elemental change) The wave, which, on a day of yore, Ill-fated Monmouth hither bore? Here first he trod* — his high command Acknowledged by a patriot band. Onward he led, with hope elate, Till adverse fortune mark'd his fate. *The Duke landed at Lyme, I0S5. PROBABILITY. 117 The wounded spirit ponders here, And Freedom, sighing, drops a tear! This wave — the very wave, we'll say, High-swelling, foaming on this way, May be the wave (rich then its load) Whereon the gallant hero rode! Imagine it the very same ! It must — it shall that honor claim. Why not? — 'tis possible ! 'tis plain Whate'er has heen may be again. So, latent atoms, wliether closed In bodied mass, or decomposed ; — The particles which water form, The tempest brewings of the storm, Howe'cr dispersed, howe'er conceal'd, By vapour raised, in ice congeal'd, 118 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. Whether in skies or oceans toss'd, Through centuries changing, never lost, (For centuries here seem but as hours) The same associating powers, The same pi-oportions and degrees, Repulsions and affinities, Still may — altho' to us occult- Produce, in time, the same result. Thus may the wave of which we speak — The wave that on this strand will break, Be that which Monmouth buoy'd;— nay still, The wave that erst bore Norman Will ; * And (giving ampler scope to thought) That which immortal Cesar brought, * William the Conqueror arrived from Normandy in the year 1066. TIME. 119 When first his veteran conquering host Rome's standard rear'd on Albion's coast ! * Momentous wave ! — Important day ! Ages since then have roll'd away ! Hither, perhaps, from distant climes This wave has roll'd a million times ! And millions more it may return, While globes exist and suns shall burn For millions we like units- see In Time's account — Etehnity ! Vainly I say, then, " Sea give o'er, 'Thus idly beating 'gainst the shore! " * Julius Caesar invaded Britain about 55 years before the Christian era. 120 POCKET BOOK. The Primal Order still it keeps, And never by inaction sleeps. 'Tis here! — 'tis gone! — yet comes again; The impulse given, it must maintain; And thus it will for ever roll. Unless great Nature thwart the pole, Or, by her vast volcanic thunder, Earth, Sky, and Ocean burst asunder ! PERCEPTION. 12L FRIENDSHIP. Youth's first impressions are so bright, They dazzle and betray j Opinions early form'd, are light, Mere bubbles of a day ! Such tints Life's jocund morn displays, ' Tis heaven to be deceived ; Ripened by Truth's meridian blaze, We wonder we've helieved ! The first-felt impulse is divine That Love's fond votaries know ! While Friendship's beams less brilliant shine, But give more constant glow ! 122 POETIC IMPRESSIONS, BELLES LETTRES. -LiOVELY Jemima is a book of bliss — Her word a page! — a volume in her kiss! Her look the frontispiece — (a proof impression)- Her wit the preface, void of vague digression. Her smile a literal beauty. When she's vex'd, Her frown — a pointed note upon the text. By Hymen bound, I prize the precious lore, Peruse it daily — every leaf turn o'er. The more I read, more loath I from it part, Resolved the whole contents to get by heart ! Catching its spirit, charm'd with its address, I hail, with joy, the freedom of the press ! PROVOCATION. v^hange, gentle Muse, the wonted tuneful strain, For how should you, E'en had you nothing else to do, Describe a motley lot of pain In notes of pleasure ? The theme I would rehearse Transcends the shackled powers Of dull pedantic verse, Composed in academic bowers ; 124 POCKET BOOK. Or trope bombastical, And metaphor fantastical, Oft said or sung by full-fed bards at leisure. It claims a free, a frolicksome display, Unfetter'd numbers, circumambient lay, Beyond all doggerel bounds of sing-song measure. In glowing terms I would the day indite, (Its morn, its noon, its afternoon, and night) The busiest day throughout the week — the latter day; A day whereon odd matters are made even; The dirtiest — cleanest too — of all the seven ; The scouring — pail, pan, plate and platter day : A day of general note and notability, A plague to gentlefolks And prim gentility, E'en to the highest ranks — nobility ! And yet a day — (barring all jokts) Of great utility, Both to the rich as well as the mobility. THE DISMALS. 125 A day of din— of clack — a clatter day : For all, howe'er they mince the matter, say, The day they dread, (A day with hippish, feverish frenzy fed) Is that grand day of fuss and bustle, SATURDAY ! Strange omens fill the sky ! They're drawing nigh! The dawn is overcast With blight and blast ; The morning lowers, And heavily with clouds brings on sad hours ; Sad hours that show An overflow, Not of electric flame or drenching showers, But ills that glow 'With flic-side woe — Oh, all ye household gods, sustain my powers ! 126 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. Waked from a dream, I hear a scream, A sharp, shrill mandate — "Clear and clean the rooms T I know the sound — 'Tis echoing round — A mort of mental misery it dooms 3 And see a throng — a host appears, Arm'd cap-a-pee — Plague's pioneers 1— Cooks, scullions, kitchen maids, and helpmate grooms. The hour is come, in black array, The time, the great, th' important day, Big with the freight of buckets and of brooms ! No more the Muse Can subject choose; Her fine-spun themes And cobweb schemes Are brush'd off with the spider's ; APPREHENSION. 127 For on this day, so rugged is the track, The harrass'd tit (an ever willing hack) Is jaded, blown, and sorely gall'd her back, Her spirit broken, too, as is her rider's ! With woeful face I mope — I pensive sigh, And, driven from place to place, Half frantic, ciy For heaven's sake spare my papers ! Should they be torn, or thrown together, I know not whether I should sicken Like a chicken, Or have the doldrums, fidgets, blues, or vapours.* * These terms (the Doldrums, Fidgets, Blues, and Vapours) are by some writers considered synonymous, being expressive 128 POCKET BOOK. At my alarm The servants slily titter ; The simple souls intend, perhaps, no harm- But they and all good housewives hate a litter ; of the same ideas ; but, in a poetical sense, they are classed as beings possessing similar properties and propensities. Their only distinction is, a difference in colour, namely, black or blue, white, grey, red, and purple. Formerly all devils were supposed black, and the only hint on record of a contrary opinion, is from the proverb " Don't paint the Devil blacker than he is." The Europeans adhered, for a long time, to the opinion that he was jet black ; while the Asiatics maintained a doctrine directly opposite — that the Devil was milk white! but 'tis supposed that this celebrated personage has, with his usual policy, endeavoured to accommodate both parties, and changed his colour with the change of times and circumstances; for we now seldom hear of any devils but blue ones ! 'Tis thought, too, that this complexional diversity has been in con- sequence of the invention of the art of Printing, and by way of PARTICULARITY. 129 All — on the Saturday — are cross and snubbish, At seeing what they fancy heaps of rubbish : Heaps which, perhaps, a prudent man, with care Has just assorted, parcell'd here and there. contradistinction to printers' devils, who are necessarily black from the nature of their employ. 'Tis therefore conjectured that their Satanic Majesties were somewhat piqued at these typographical sublunary imps taking upon themselves the same denomination. But to show their superior importance, they occa- sionally assume a different complexion. Another reason may be. advanced. Devils were, in former times, described as having enor- mously large eyes, surcharged with sulphurous blue flame; and it is probable that from this circumstance the Bluet derive their appellation, being frequently occasioned by an overstrained visual perception of things that never did or ever will occur. '1 lu Vapours have their origin from the languor of cold lethargic habits or the smotherings of a clouded understanding; hence their appropriate title, and their distinctive complexion of grey, or smoaky drab-colour. With respect to the Fidgets — they, on the contrary, arise from a threefold operation — The fretful worriting* of impatience, K 130 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. Nothing so much a thrifty lass delights, As rummaging and putting things to rights. But, pray observe — [allow it, too, in song] Putting to rights is putting all things wrong ! inflammatory temper, and overheated imagination: hence they are sometimes tri-coloured, most frequently red; but, like a lute- string, they vary in appearance according to the refracted rays of distorted vision, occasioned by an irritable, over sanguinated pertinacity. The Doldrums are, by some writers, supposed to be the illegimate offspring of the Blues and Fidgets. According to the custom of the family, they retain the privilege of having their patronymic appellation abbreviated; and, as we often read BLUES for Blue Devils, so are we allowed to say DOLS instead of Doldrums. What confirms the opinion of their extraction and consanguinity, is their similarity of temper and deportment 5 the DOLS partaking of the natural fretfulness of the Fidgets, and resembling the BLUES in their gaping, gazing, gloomy, sombre osity! The Dismals, Megrims, and Tantrims are of the same extraction, and therefore will not require to be particularised. MISCELLANIES. 131 I mean such things as letters — Polite things from one's betters, Amusing things, Or billets-doux, which love oft bringsj (Whether in earnest or in joke We cordially may kiss 'em :) To lose or miss 'em Would e'en a grave philosopher provoke ! Shakcspear (who is a great authority in these cases) has tohl us that there are * black spirits and white, red spirits and grey," ' but from his silence respecting the BLUES, we may con- clude that they rank not among spirits, but are fiends mure terrific and powerful; — they probably bring the others with them as auxiliaries, and are to all under their influence iiii.-i vupoui \>U\y fidgeting, doldrum mically dismal, and diabolically infernal! In short, so mark'd, so various the brood, "1'is but by being felt they're understood. 132 POCKET BOOK. As for such trash as tradesmen's bills— (By some called pills ! ) Cast up, examined, but as yet un cross d (That is — unpaid), To bave them lost or carelessly mislaid Is scarcely worth a thought, Or moment's sorrow; Day after day, bills may again be brought, Or tradesmen call " to-morrow and to-morrow." Nay, were all bills, all duns, for ever gone, As if Old Nick had got 'em every one, Who'd care a pin? — but, even grin; For duns too oft, impertinently throng, Their bills (like snipe's or woodcock's) devilish long ! Things void of sense, Pounds, shillings, pence; Hang their dull totals! — Cocker drive 'em hence! TROUBLE. 133 Scrawls figurative, uncouth, and emblematic; Lines underlined, and (understood) emphatic; Grates, gridirons, trivets, crane-bars hydrostatic; Euclid deciphers not such ciphering signs ; Each crank, by hook or crook, the brain unfixes. Great Cocker! while thy art the thread untwines, Dash, scratch, and blot out all the pot-hook nines, Or turn 'em, topsy-turvy, into sixes ! To have these cancell'd, burnt, or lost, or torn, Would not aggrieve a debtor over much, For well he knows, tho' ills, they're such As with a little patience may be home. Tho' vulgar souls May tear their polls, Which, if they thump, No brains they bump. 134 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. But like a tree, or log Of green mahog- any, Or a big lump of clay, fall plump, Or heedless jog And headlong jump Into the bog Of fathomless despair; The truly wise will spare their sighs, And, unconcern'd, The truly learn' d Will learn such trifling things to bear. But valued writings thrown about, Our grand ideas turn'd the inside out, The happiest thoughts and choicest flights- " Heroic cantos on Gas Lights," CROAKING. 135 New "Odes sublime on Coke and Tars" "Sonnets and pastoral Poems on Bazaars" "A copious Glossary on the text/' With "Logical and shrewd Remarks" annex'd; "Events historical/' "Hints metaphorical," "Proofs categorical," ''Tracts, Extracts, Episodes, and Emendations, "Outlines, Additions, Sketches, Illustrations," With "Transpositions and Abbreviations," And luminous "Explanatory Notes" affix 'd. To have such 'valued' papers tumbled, mix'd, Is shocking ! One's finest feelings mocking! Such ill "Puzzles the will," And, by soliloquizing, By sombre reasoning, or by ill advising, 136 POJKET BOOK. We often moan And groan, Life's irksome, heavy "fardel "-load to bear} A "bodkin" or a halter seize, And, in a fit, with one of these, We shrink, Or blink And wink, And give a sort of lullaby to care! If 'tis the rope, (And there is ample scope) As with a wing, Like truant good-for-nothing boys we swing. But if the "bodkin" 'tis we take, And, grasping it, like cowards shake, We stare and gape, not knowing why, And without saying e'en • Good bye,' A snug "quietus" quietly we make. MEDLEY. 137 For thus — from Fancy's scrutiny The spirits mutiny ; Like — (in comparison) To fort or garrison Or barrack schism j In frantic paroxysm We puff and blow by a Mongrel hydraphobia ; Then trill a song or chaunt a catch, A fife or flute, or fiddle, snatch, And play (Perhaps for pay) God save the King, the Prince, and Vicar of Bray; Or else we prance Saint Vitus's famed dance, Or skip and caper, By rush light, chandeleir, or farthing taper, A waltz, an Irish jig, or Scottish air; 138 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. Frolic all day, — Nay, Keep it up all night, to take some pelf; With such neat tunes, we'll say, As David Hunter Blair, Robin Adair, And Go to the devil and shake yourself! Yet, still, the mind (Tho' Fate's unkind And Fortune blind) At Time's deep gulph, Oblivion, spurns ; The bourne from whence (Whate'er his sense) No poet, gay or solemn, e'er returns ! Nor is it here this scene terrific ends ; A hideous hodge-podge source of woe attends, And every moment mightier mischief blends ! RAGE. 139 ' ■ One room is damp, Another quite a flood ! I feel the cramp— And storm and stamp, Fly! — fetch old doctor Bolus! — quick, decamp!— The doctor!- still I cry, in surly mood! My wife exclaims (and movingly enough) — The doctor! — me no doctors — stuff! I can't abide old Bolus — never cou'd ; — Some water-gruel, dear, will do more good. But lo ! with cane [gold-headed] Bolus comes j He feels my pulse — then pauses — haws and hums j And, squinting at his watch at least a minute, He shakes his head — [his cane's] As if some sense there really was within it ! And now most gravely feigns To look as if he something understood, Prescribing thus — '* Sir, you must lose some blood." 140 POCKET BOOK. 'Sblood ! but I wont ! I loudly bawl, And feel (as if recovered in a trice) Quite well, — (but not by bis advice) As well as if be ne'er bad come at all : And saying this, I own, is saying much, For Bolus — supple, smooth to all around him, A patient's pulse, and fee, can seldom touch, And leave that patient well, as first he found him. As out of door my head I pop, Full in my face the servant twirls a mop I The circling sprinkUng spurt Of dirt Flies In my eyes, All o'er my hat, Cravat, My waistcoat and my shirt ! MISHAP. 141 My hand I raise and sideways rush — Trip o'er a brush, (Not noting where the heedless wench had stuck it,) And grumbling, Stumbling, Kick the bucket ! An upset pail of puddled water My boots and hose, And eke small clothes, Besmear, bespot, besplash, bespatter ! My coat, too, best of all my suits, And Cobourg boots, No polish, gloss, or jetty lustre lacking ! Made in the Strand, Just come to hand, Japann'd With Day and Martin's brilliant patent blacking! 142 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. At this I'd not demur, if this were all, But evils multiply, confound, appal ; Tho' fast approaching, others press on faster j Evils for which no doctor finds a plaister, No balsam e'er can cure, Or mortal long endure — My scampering vassals, heedless of their master, Deaf to complaint, and mocking my disaster, Push me about, nor pay the least regard; My grooms and footmen, Black as soot-men, Banging and beating carpets in the yard ! — Glancing aside With mouth stretch'd wide And in a piteous taking, I now behold, in stultified amazement, From balcony, veranda, open casement, Quilts, blankets, bedside matts, and bolsters shaking ! DILEMMA. 143 Must more, still more be borne ? — Indeed there must! Where, then, is biding good ? Here I'm in mud, And, hurrying hence, I shou'd Be smotherd, suffocated, choak'd with dust! But more than dust now loads the siroc wind, Worse, worse by far than Egypt's plagues I share; Feathers and down, like clouds of locusts, blind, And, 'mid the general deluge of such care, O where shall I an ark of safety find ? Whither, ah whither shall I flee to? Without is full as bad as 'tis within doors! My household mind not if my head they douse j They absolutely turn my house, And me too, Out, as it were, at windows ! 144 POCKET BOOK. High rage my bosom fills, Distracts my sconce; And sooner far than bear such ills I would of all get rid at once, And live alone, Unknown, Unsought, unheard of, or unseen, Where biped man ne*er walk'd nor ran, Nor quadruped e'er lurk'd in leafy screen; On mountain drear, or in a desert wild, Where neither cat nor kitten, chick nor child, Nor any thing in shape of human kind had been. Rather than, week by week, endure such trouble — (Double) Such over-thrifty dames — so nice a wife, I'd drown or hang myself, and end the strife; Or, living, would live single all my life: DETERMINATION. 145 Really single ! Never mingle, Or individually, or in the lump j However I might suffer for *t, or catch ill, or Die of the spleen — be calTd a frump, A fretful, formal, finical, old batchclor! Zounds ! I'd do any thing, However bold! I'd even — buy a ring And wed a scold ! A furious termagant To all who bear a rant, A very Zantippe, Of spirit mean, Brimful of spleen, And gloomy cold misanthropy, 146 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. Without a bit Of affability or wit, To soothe, console, condole, or brighten one ; But with a tongue Most glibly hung, And visage— lank, and sour enough to frighten one ! Sooner than bear this latter day's, This Saturday's Incessant scrubbing, Eternal brushing, and infernal rubbing, I'd be— tho' all the world should know it, A half clad, Half mad, Half fed, Ifo-read Poet! INCONGRUITY. 147 Nay, I'll say more — Admitting I had ne'er before Been, as I ought, be-wived; I'd yield up every comfort thence derived j All the endearments that man's life could bless, Love's cheering smile and Beauty's kind caress: Or, if I married, it should be in spite, Heedless of every social dear delight. Rather than live amid so much turmoiling, Such mopping, slopping, tidyness, and toiling, I'd wed, In Beauty's stead, A half- starved, Ill-carred, Lazy, Crazy, Slip-shod slattern— (Hci dress and ph'u — the fifteenth century's pattern !) 148 POCKET BOOK. Altho' to me she were the raumps and phthisic, And I to her eternal fits and physic ', And each, alternately, of wits the hut ; Apart, or when together, quizz'd or cut 5 Not even nodded to— deserted; Talk'd of but little, and bemoan'd still less; With tempers so perverted, As if but form'd to growl and disagree ; Each other's worst antipathy's excess ; I, in poetic climax of distress, And she A mumbling, grumbling, Grubstreet Poetew. UNISON. 149 ROSES. OupiD once crept where Flora lay, And slyly bore a kiss away; Then, blushing at the theft, he chose Concealment in an opening rose; This rose, obtain'd by Love's fair mother, Produced another, and another! A sweet abode then Flora made, And round it form'd a woodbine shade: There Love with Beauty still reposes; There kisses multiply with roses j And during passion's pleasant weather, The rose and woodbine twine together ! 150 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. PARADOX. Bail is a Lawyer; poor; his practice great; Pinch has no practice, but a large estate. A greater problem in this case involved Than Locke ere reason'd on, or Euclid solved ! The man that's poor, the law the most respects ; And he that's rich, law totally rejects j Effects no causes here, — there causes no effects ! ir^j »>, ^m l2s 2 THE JOLLY TOPERS. A Song. Jolly Topers attend, as you sit in full quorum, Hear what Bacchus decrees, and then fill every jorum : 1 All your customs to sanction and save them from sinking, ' You must precedents find in the annals of drinking!' Briskly push round the glass, then — let this he the chorus, u We are true jolly Topers and drink all before us! " 154 POETIC IMPRESSIONS, SIMPLICITY. J. ell me, says Sue, why Love is drawn a boy? ''Because, my dear, he's innocent and coy! " And why an archer? — "Ah, need that reply, "E'en while his shafts are darting from thine eye? " Wherefore unrobed? — " Nay, Sue, can that surprise ? "Love scorns deceit, and dress he deems disguise ! " But why with wings ? — " Because he's airy — gay— " Here with a thought ! and, slighted, flies away ! "Love has so pure, so excpiisite a sense, "He can't endure the shadow of offence!" « But tell me, for what reason pictured blind? "Because Love shuns the light to speak his mind, "And, even then, oft blushes to be kind." AMBITION. 155 FABLE. One, who had read light essays of the age, While of Truth's lore he'd scarcely skimm'd a page, Could why and where, from what and whence infer, In short a flippant, vain Philosopher! Who, reasoning on effects without their cause, A gross perversion form'd of Nature's laws j Then shunning the results his weakness fear'd, A shallow fancied superstructure rcar'd; In Error's labyrinth deem'd man a clod, And doubted e'en the existence of a GOD! This Sceptic, who possess'd an Artists' skill, Erected, on a most ingenious plan, a Mill] 154 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. SIMPLICITY. J. ell me, says Sue, why Love is drawn a boy? ''Because, my dear, he's innocent and coy! " And why an archer? — "Ah, need that reply, "E'en while his shafts are darting from thine eye? " Wherefore unrobed ? — ** Nay, Sue, can that surprise ? " Love scorns deceit, and dress he deems disguise ! " But why with wings ? — f * Because he's airy — gay— " Here with a thought ! and, slighted, flies away ! "Love has so pure, so exrprisite a sense, "He can't endure the shadow of offence!" But tell me, for what reason pictured blind? "Because Love shuns the light to speak his mind, "And, even then, oft blushes to be kind." AMBITION. 155 FABLE. One, who had read light essays of the age. While of Truth's lore he'd scarcely skiram'd a page, Could wfiy and where, from what and whence infer, In short a flippant, vain Philosopher! Who, reasoning on effects without their cause, A gross perversion form'd of Nature's laws; Then shunning the results his weakness fear'd, A shallow fancied superstructure rear'd; In Error's labyrinth deem'd man a clod, And doubted e'en the existence of a GOD! This Sceptic, who possess'd an Artists' skill, Erected, on a most ingenious plan, a Millj 1-56 POCKET BOOK. Elated with the deed, he took his stand, And mark'd, well pleased, the labour of his hand. Extoll'd his great mechanic powers combined, And sought the admiration of mankind. A Grub, who in a corner lay unseen, Now forward crept — survey' d the vast machine. The insect ridiculed the boaster's art, As disproportionate in every part. This wheel turn'd that, for aught the Grub could see, Subservient every movement in degree. Besides he question' d where the mighty skill, And even doubted who 'twas made the mill! Vile worm! resumed the Artist, standing by, Dost thou pretend (with microscopic eye Which scarce exceeds the vision of a fly) IMPERFECTION. J£7 To doubt my talents, criticise my art, Condemn the whole, tho' viewing only part? ''Tis disproportionate !' How know tbou'rt right, When e'en proportion may impede thy sight? The whole construction thou would'st stamp as vain, Each movement as 'subservient' maintain. 'This wheel turns that,' thou sneeringly dost cry— Who made them? — mill? wheels? movements? — I, I, I ! And know, if thou art not perversely blind, The whole, thus made by me — is turn'd by wind ! Now, in a Peasant, spoke plain Common Sense. Unprefaced he began. Blind reasoner, hence! Those very arguments which aid your cause Have equal strength applied to Nature's laws j A strength that will apostacy confound — Each vagnc liypothesis then falls to ground! 160 POCKET BOOK. Think not that hence I Julia slight, Or hold dear woman's preference light. Ah no! — but if by ills aggrieved, Tis added pain to be deceived j And when by love and fortune crost, 'Tis nearest bliss to know the worst. Did Julia say she could not love, Twould still a mark of kindness prove. For candour, which the heart alarms, Adds greater worth to female charms 3 It notes a rectitude replete, A detestation of deceit. If man enslave the female mind, It only leans as he's inclined ; The difference, then, not wide would seem 'Twixt me and those who vainly dream: And thus the case — a few words show it — The mind's the same— but J best know it. OCCASIONAL PROLOGUE, Spoken at the THEATRE ROYAL, HAYMARKET. While dread Bellona spreads her gore-dyed shield, And legions, arm'd, indignant take the field j While o'er the quarter'd globe War's thunders roll, Explosive burst, and shake the farthest pole; Amid the cares which anxious Britons feel, The doom of conflict, and the nation's weal, 162 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. Say — shall the humhle Muse exert her power, To nourish sympathy or guile the hour? Can hearts, aroused to arras, estranged to fear, Expand hy jest, or soften at a tear ? Yes, Britons, yes ! 'tis your prescriptive right, Humanely hrave, to feel as well as fight ! And you, ye Belles, whose sweet hewitching charms Arouse to glory, animate to arms ; Your smiles the hoon, how many take the field, And fight the foe, in hope — the fair will yield. 'Tis thus your beauty aids the common cause, No force so powerful as your applause ; E'en cowards, trembling, combat fearful odds, And heroes, daring, emulate the Gods ! Your province 'tis to guide with soft control The mix'd emotions of the warrior's soul, RESULTS. 163 'Tis your's, as beams the lightning of your eye, Warm from the heart to draw the pitying sigh. Feeling and fire ! sweet mingled light and shade j Your bosoms melt, o'er wounds — your eyes have made! As such materials form the human mind, The Drama pleads the cause of all mankind ; It guards our rights, protects the nation's fame, And rouses apatby — to active flame. Souls unrefined, like trees of rudest form Unmoved remain, nor heed the passing storm j But plants, more sensitive, of culture high, Shrink at the breathings waft by Pity's sigh! The bosom by the drama's scenes imprest, Will promptly glow to succour the distrest. If gentle Sympathy's suspended tear On Beauty's lid, for fancied ills, appear, Then real woe will prove a stronger theme, And swell the glistening dew-drop to a stream ! 164 POCKET BOOK. EPITAPH On JAMES SHATFORD, Who died at Newport, Isle of Wight. If e'er the prescient eye of Genius caught, At one quick view, the wide extremes of thought; If e'er, at Memory's call, ideas sprung, Or fell in mended accent from the tongue; If genuine wit — a mind with knowledge stored, Or repartee, e'er crown'd the social board, With eloquence, that, under favoring star, Had graced the Senate, or illumed the Bar — Such gifts where thine. A host of friends appear, And sanction this faint record with a tear. Shatford farewell! — all who thy merits scan, Attest the Genius — Friend — and Honest Man. DANGER. 165 ORPHAN MARY. J. he ways of the world form a warren of cares, Deceitful and hollow, beset round with snares ; Tho' with pastimes inviting, sure ruin 's enclosed, And I sigh when I think to what ills I'm exposed. The persons of note, by our village revered, Whom in childhood I loved, while their chidings I fear'd, Oft, in levity's guise, have allurements disclosed, And 1 sigh when I think to what ills I'm exposed; E'en the clown, who scarce knows how to spell right his name, Too familiar with vice is, and heedless of shame ; At my ruin he'd laugh, tho' with woe it was closed, And I sigh when I think to what ills I'm exposed. 166 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. But, should Charles, who possesses my heart, know deceit, 'Twou'd each hope and each life-cheering prospect defeat; Tho' his love is in language of honor disclosed, Yet I sigh when I think to what ills I'm exposed. SYMPATHY. Why blush, and sigh, sweet Bess?— Why think, and pause? "I blush (says she) that you should think there's cause !" You're not in love! — eh, what! — still blushing Bess?— "Pshaw! — now, I blush that you so wrongly guess!" Ha! do I so? — I guess'd you not in love; You say I'm wrong, and thus the secret prove. MILDNESS. 167 PHCEBE ROWE. JVxy Phoebe is the village pride, Sweet as the cowslips after rain, Fresh as the brook's green willow'd side, And graceful as the waving grain. The morning's breath o'er blossom'd spray, Soft breezes that thro' bean fields blow, The wild-rose bower where woodbines play Not half so sweet as Phoebe Rowe! 166 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. But, should Charles, who possesses my heart, know deceit, 'Twou'd each hope and each life-cheering prospect defeat; Tho' his love is in language of honor disclosed, Yet I sigh when I think to what ills I'm exposed. SYMPATHY. Why blush, and sigh, sweet Bess?— Why think, and pause? "I blush (says she) that you should think there's cause !" You're not in love! — eh, what! — still blushing Bess?— "Pshaw! — now, I blush that you so wrongly guess!" Ha! do I so? — I guess'd you woHn love; You say I'm wrong, and thus the secret prove. MILDNESS. 167 TIICEBE ItOWE. JVxy Pbcebe is the village pride, Sweet as the cowslips after rain, Fresh as the brook's green willow'd side, And graceful as the waving grain. Tbe morning's breath o'er blossoni'd spray, Soft breezes that thro' bean fields blow, The wild-rose bower where woodbines play Not half so sweet as l'hojbe Rowe ! 168 POCKET BOOK. On Sundays, oft, ere church began, Beneath the spreading yew-tree's shade, With some good moralizing man I've mused, while on the greensward laid; Talk'd of the dead, our friends of late, And, thus, anticipating woe, Have fear'd the hour, that, wing'd with fate; Should rob me of my Phcebe Rowe ! The bells now chime th' accustom'd round, — The ting-tang speaks the preacher near ; See, lightly tripping o'er the ground, The village maids and swains appear. In joyous haste they skip along, With honest looks and cheeks that glow : How leaps my heart, amidst the throng To see my pretty Phoebe Rowe ! ANXIETY. 169 The anthem's sung; — but, ere the text, The banns are read : — Some happy pair ! With eyes upon my Phoebe fixed, I fondly wish that ours were there! While looks devout I raise, e'en then My wayward heart still lurks below: Tho' with the clerk I say "Amen," My thoughts are fixed on Phcebe Rowe ! 170 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. THE LITTLE OLD WOMAN CUT SHORTER. A Comic Song, Sung at the Theatres London, $-c When I was a maid I was bashful and shy, To all rudeness I made much resistance j If a youth caught a glance, then I cast down my eye, 'Tvvas — "I beg, sir, you'll keep at a distance!" Tho' not very tall, yet I held myself high j For my beauty made all their mouths water, And now, as I pass, the folks titter and cry "There's the little old woman cut shorter!" NOTABILITY. 171 What, tho' I seem old, I've the spirit of youth j If they vex me, egad so they'll find too ! And tho' I oft frown, yet, to tell you the truth, I've a smile for the man I've a mind to. My face yet has charms, and so killing my eye, 'Mongst hearts still I make such a slaughter, That virgins, less handsome, thro* envy, oft cry "See, the little old woman cut shorter!" Six hushands I've had, but, poor souls ! they are gone; I shall soon wed a seventh, my cozen j Egad, if at this rate, I keep going on, Ere I die, I shall make up the dozen ! I cared not a pin for their humours and airs ; At a scolding I never gave quarter 5 If they kick'd up a dust, why I kick'd 'em down stairs, Tho' "A little old woman cut shorter ! " 172 POCKET BOOK. Three husbands I lost by the palsy and gout, I had two shovell'd off by a dropsy; My sixth was a tippler, for ever was out, — And turn'd ray affairs turvy topsy! So I'll marry again, just to set all things right; For I've match'd both my son and my daughter! At their weddings I danced, — at my own dance to-night- Like "A little old woman cut shorter !" ADMIRATION. 173 BEAUTY. Is that the soft reflex of Cynthia's night, Or the mild lustre of Aurora's light? No ! — 'Tis the radiance of fair Bertha's eye, Whose splendour emulates the orient sky ! A tint more brilliant than the tulip's streak Glows in the roseat hue of Bertha's cheek ! Seek you the fount where bees their treasures sip? O taste the honied dew of Bertha's lip ! Dear, matchless Bertha ! could I gain thy love, It would my joy, my bliss, my hybla prove! 174 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. THE WIFE. Happy the Fair, who, with a virtuous mind, Can in her husband every solace find ; Tho' not hy affluence cheer'd, in humhle life Proud of that hest of titles, faithful wife j The world's vain praise, or hlame, her least regard, Her husband's smile, her chief, her sole reward. For him she lives — in him alone confides, His wish — his will her every action guides ; The ray of pure affection warmly glows, And o'er her home eternal sunshine throws. • INQUIRY. 175 MAKING LOVE. What's making love? (says Jane) — What can it mean ? Pray, Charles, can you make love ? — I'm now sixteen ; Errors I make — make curtsies— make amends; Make samplars, tippets, and make bosom friends; But as to making love, I really doubt it ; At least, I know not how to set about it. Is love an art, or what men business call ? I've no idea how love's made at all ! Ah, charming girl (cries Charles), that kind confession Bespeaks a stock of love in your possession; No matter, therefore, whether craft or trade, For both of us have love already made.—. 176 POCKET BOOK. Love is no science, by no art is shown, But the most sweet profession ever known, "lis Life's great wealth! — Felicity's account! Cupid and Co. are rich beyond amount; Suppose we contract form — take credit thence, And as one firm a partnership commence. But Charles, suppose my folly raise a debt, And we're both bankrupted in Love's gazette? Nay, Jane, you're now too scrupulously nice ; As you're unskilled, rely on my advice. In Hymen's ledger I'll fair statement make you, And, formally, a sleeping partner take you. PRUDENCE. 177 EXTRA LINES ON CANDOUR. Vide page 159- 1k Love's domain, or on the throne, Homage springs not from fear alone. Freedom must first its rights secure, Or else allegiance is not pure. The timid fair-one ne'er discloses Beyond the rule her lord imposes : She waits till his opinion's told, Before she dare her thoughts unfold. n 178 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. Stopping at points which he deems wrong, Caution, restrictive, guides her tongue : Of conscious innocence possest, Yet Fear remains her trembling guest j And hence she every thought must measure, Or run the hazard of displeasure. Wrong, oft an arbitrary name : — Her words may change — her will's the same. She finds, howe'er in bondage wrought, That even slaves are free — in thought. Ah then, let thought have virtuous play, And language Love's regards obey; For grant, the tongue declare no love, A candid heart at least 'twill prove j And yield, at all events, to me, The soul's best boon — Sincerity! MOURNING. 179 GERALDINE. ELEGIAC LIKES To the 3femory of a much lamented young Lady. Hark! a distant solemn tolling — Poor Gerald ine ! Tis thy passing-bell, still knolling: Poor Geraltline ! Those who late with joy did view thee, All who valued, all who knew thee, Now fn woeful accents rue thee. Poor Gcraldinc ! 180 POCKET BOOK. On the morn thou shouldst have married — Poor Geraldine ! To thy grave we saw thee carried — Poor Geraldine ! Thus in bloom of beauty blighted ! Friends as bridal maids invited Hear thy funeral dirge recited : Poor Geraldine ! Village girls yet mourn for hours, Poor Geraldine ! Deck thy tomb with new-blown flowers, Poor Geraldine ! Bathed in tears from eve till morrow, Hope from poignant grief they borrow, Like lilies droop, and sigh in sorrow — Poor Geraldine ! OPINION. 181 TASTE. Ask Fashion's votaries, gaily dress'd, In what most taste is shown: You'll find, no matter how express'd, That each prefers his own. Some lovers boast, and others swear, Some sigh and weep alone : Which is the best ? — Consult the fair — And each prefers her own. Some like their swains all spirit — fire; While some, more frankly prone, The traits of modest worth admire, Yet each prefers her own. 182 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. Bawbles, of every kind, are toys At different ages shown : Ribbons please girls, and rattles boys, And each prefer their own. Are all men govern'd by one wish, Or by one standard known ? All palates suited by one dish ? No— each prefer their own ! ' Tis folly, argument to waste, Where wild caprice is shown j For when opinion rests on taste, All, all, prefer their own. PUNCH. ANACREONTIfiUE. I is not alone the sweets I find, Nor Wit's pure spirit— strength of mind- Nor liquid softness— squeeze refined Of juicy lip, and Beauty's rind, That drive me wildly gadding : 1S4 POCKET BOOK. These, singly, will the fancy move j But all in Woman found, they prove (Warm'd by ethereal fire above) The cup of life, the Punch of Love, And set my brain a madding ! Oh Jove ! expand my thirsty soul ! Fill yon blue sky-inverted bowl, Where lucid orbs in ether roll ; Nor let the Gods my joys control, Nor Juno bounce and hector ! Fill! fill! till with the rim it's even! Woman — the blessed banquet given ; Wit — the soul-inspiring leaven j Beauty — the beverage of heaven, And Punch of Love — the nectar! REMEMBRANCE. 185 SWEET DELUSION. How joyous was I, and bow blest, When witb Anna I pass'd tbe glad day; No care then o'ershadow'd my rest, Her smile was the sunshine of May. The hour we first met I could name When our bosoms felt sympathy's glow ; The moon often witness'd our flame — Twas as pure — twas as spotless as snow. o 186 POETIC IMPRESSIONS. In fancy, the paths T still range, Endearing to memory they prove. We knew not affection's soft change Till friendship had ripen'd to love. And should we have check'd Love's advance Had the urchin heen sooner perceived ? No ! The shaft he conveys by a glance Wounds the heart ere its force is believed. Hope entices with lineaments gay, As we throw a light veil over sorrow; The shadow of joy seems to-day More bright than the substance to-morrow. Twas fortune most adverse and drear That Anna and I drove atwain, And year may elapse after year Ere Anna and I meet again. FELICITY. 187 But should our endeavours succeed, Should the wish of our hearts be complete — Ah ! the thought is delusion indeed ! A delusion enchantingly sweet ! A delusion that sanctifies bliss, And shields us from heart-wounding strife. If love be delusion like this — O love! then delude me for life! FINIS Syle, l'rintiT, l»arn*Uple. ERRATA. Tage line 25 — 12, for celaret read cellaret. 28— 9, for etherial read ethereal. 36 — 5, By paths should be a compound word — By-paths. 54 — 3,ybr dy'e read d'ye. 76 — 2, for Mild Charity came, her best gifts to divide; read Mild Charity came, their associate and guide. 82 — 7 >t /br Samson read Sampson. 107 — lyfor catchpoles read catchpolls. 137 — 8, for hydraphobia read hydrophobia, ibid — 17, for chandeleir read chandelier. 150 — 4, for ere read e'er. 171- 10, for cozen read cousin. L 005 277 949 3 ^SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY AA 000 079153 3