Through pathless wastes and woods, unconscious
Of other tenants than melodious birds,
Or harmless flocks, is hazardous and bold. Lamented change! to which full many a cause Inveterate, hopeless of a cure, conspires. The course of human things from good to ill, From ill to worse, is fatal, never fails. Increase of power begets increase of wealth; Wealth luxury, and luxury excess ; Excess, the scrofulous and itchy plague, That seizes first the opulent, descends To the next rank contagious, and in time Taints downward all the graduated scale Of order, from the chariot to the plough. The rich, and they, that have an arm to check The licence of the lowest in degree,
Desert their office; and themselves, intent On pleasure, haunt the capital, and thus
To all the violence of lawless hands
Resign the scenes, their present might protect. Authority herself not seldom sleeps,
Though resident, and witness of the wrong. The plump convivial parson often bears The magisterial sword in vain, and lays His reverence and his worship both to rest On the same cushion of habitual sloth..
Perhaps timidity restrains his arm;
When he should strike he trembles, and sets free, Himself enslaved by terror of the band,
The audacious convict, whom he dares not bind. Perhaps, though by profession ghostly pure, He too may have his vice, and sometimes prove Less dainty than becomes his grave outside In lucrative concerns. Examine well
His milk-white hand; the palm is hardly clean- But here and there an ugly smutch appears. Foh! 'twas a bribe that left it: he has touched Corruption. Whoso seeks an audit here Propitious, pays his tribute, game or fish, Wild fowl or venison; and his errand speeds. But faster far, and more than all the rest, A noble cause, which none, who bears a spark Of public virtue, ever wished removed, Works the deplored and mischievous effect. 'Tis universal soldiership has stabbed The heart of merit in the meaner class. Arms, through the vanity and brainless rage Of those that bear them, in whatever cause, Seem most at variance with all moral good, And incompatible with serious thought. The clown, the child of nature, without guile, Blest with an infant's ignorance of all
But his own simple pleasures; now and then
A wrestling match, a foot-race, or a fair; Is balloted, and trembles at the news: Sheepish he doffs his hat, and mumbling swears A bible-oath to be whatever they please,
To do he knows not what. The task performed, That instant he becomes the serjeant's care, His pupil, and his torment, and his jest. His awkward gait, his introverted toes, Bent knees, round shoulders, and dejected looks, Procure him many a curse. By slow degrees, Unapt to learn, and formed of stubborn stuff, He yet by slow degrees puts off himself, Grows conscious of a change, and likes it well: He stands erect; his slouch becomes a walk; He steps right onward, martial in his air, His form, and movement; is as smart above As meal and larded locks can make him; wears His hat, or his plumed helmet, with a grace; And, his three years of heroship expired, Returns indignant to the slighted plough. He hates the field, in which no fife or drum Attends him; drives his cattle to a march; And sighs for the smart comrades he has left. "Twere well if his exterior change were all- But with his clumsy port the wretch has lost His ignorance and harmless manners too. To swear, to game, to drink ; to show at home
By lewdness, idleness, and sabbath-breach, The great proficiency he made abroad; To astonish and to grieve his gazing friends; To break some maiden's and his mother's heart; To be a pest where he was useful once; Are his sole aim, and all his glory, now. Man in society is like a flower
Blown in its native bed: 'tis there alone His faculties, expanded in full bloom, Shine out; there only reach their proper use. But man, associated and leagued with man By regal warrant, or self-joined by bond For interest-sake, or swarming into clans Beneath one head for purposes of war,
Like flowers selected from the rest, and bound And bundled close to fill some crowded vase, Fades rapidly, and by compression marred Contracts defilement not to be endured. Hence chartered boroughs are such public plagues; And burghers, men immaculate perhaps In all their private functions, once combined, Become a loathsome body, only fit
For dissolution, hurtful to the main. Hence merchants, unimpeachable of sin Against the charities of domestic life, Incorporated seem at once to lose
Their nature; and disclaiming all regard
For mercy and the common rights of man, Build factories with blood, conducting trade At the sword's point, and dyeing the white robe Of innocent commercial justice' red.
Hence too the field of glory, as the world Misdeems it, dazzled by its bright array, With all its majesty of thundering pomp, Enchanting music and immortal wreaths, Is but a school, where thoughtlessness is taught On principle, where foppery atones For folly, gallaħtry for every vice.
But slighted as it is, and by the great Abandoned, and, which still I more regret, Infected with the manners and the modes, It knew not once, the country wins me still. I never framed a wish, or formed a plan, That flattered me with hopes of earthly bliss, But there I laid the scene. There early strayed My fancy, ere yet liberty of choice
Had found me, or the hope of being free. My very dreams were rural; rural too The first-born efforts of my youthful muse, Sportive and jingling her poetic bells,
Ere yet her ear was mistress of their powers. No bard could please me but whose lyre was tuned To Nature's praises. Heroes and their feats Fatigued me, never weary of the pipe
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