-- -- Sing, Heavenly Muse,Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhime,A Shilling, Breeches, and Chimera's Dire.
HAPPY the Man, who void of Cares and Strife,In Silken, or in Leathern Purse retainsA Splendid Shilling: He nor hears with PainNew Oysters cry'd, nor sighs for chearful Ale;But with his Friends, when nightly Mists arise,To Juniper's, Magpye, or Town-Hall repairs:Where, mindful of the Nymph, whose wanton EyeTransfix'd his Soul, and kindled Amorous Flames,Chloe, or Phillis; he each Circling GlassWisheth her Health, and Joy, and equal Love.Mean while he smoaks, and laughs at merry Tale,Or Pun ambiguous, or Conundrum quaint.But I, whom griping Penury surrounds,And Hunger, sure Attendant upon Want,With scanty Offals, and small acid Tiff(Wretched Repast!) my meagre Corps sustain:Then Solitary walk, or doze at homeIn Garret vile, and with a warming puffRegale chill'd Fingers; or from Tube as blackAs Winter-Chimney, or well-polish'd Jet,Exhale Mundungus, ill-perfuming Scent:Not blacker Tube, nor of a shorter SizeSmoaks Cambro-Britain (vers'd in Pedigree,Sprung from Cadwalader and Arthur, KingsFull famous in Romantic tale) when heO'er many a craggy Hill, and barren Cliff,Upon a Cargo of fam'd Cestrian Cheese,High over-shadowing rides, with a designTo vend his Wares, or at th' Arvonian Mart,Or Maridunum, or the ancient TownEclip'd Brechinia, or where Vaga's StreamEncircles Ariconium, fruitful Soil,Whence flow Nectareous Wines, that well may vyeWith Massic, Setin, or renown'd Falern.
Thus while my joyless Minutes tedious flowWith Looks demure, and silent Pace, a Dunn,Horrible Monster! hated by Gods and Men,To my aerial Citadel ascends;With Vocal Heel thrice thund'ring at my Gates,With hideous Accent thrice he calls; I knowThe Voice ill-boding, and the solemn Sound.What shou'd I do? or whither turn? amaz'd,Confounded, to the dark Recess I flyOf Woodhole; strait my bristling Hairs erectThrô sudden Fear; a chilly Sweat bedewsMy shud'ring Limbs, and (wonderful to tell!)My Tongue forgets her Faculty of Speech;So horrible he seems! his faded BrowEntrench'd with many a Frown, and Conic Beard,And spreading Band, admir'd by Modern Saints,Disastrous Acts forebode; in his Right HandLong Scrolls of Paper solemnly he waves,With Characters, and Figures dire inscrib'dGrievous to mortal Eyes; (ye Gods avertSuch Plagues from righteous Men!) behind him stalksAnother Monster, not unlike himself,Sullen of Aspect, by the Vulgar call'dA Catchpole, whose polluted Hands the GodsWith Force incredible, and Magick CharmsErst have indu'd, if he his ample PalmShould haply on ill-fated Shoulder layOf Debtor, strait his Body, to the TouchObsequious, (as whilom Knights were wont)To some enchanted Castle is convey'd,Where Gates impregnable, and coercive ChainsIn Durance strict detain him, 'till in formOf Mony, Pallas sets the Captive free.
Beware, ye Debtors, when ye walk beware,Be circumspect; oft with insidious KenThis Caitif eyes your Steps aloof, and oftLies perdue in a Nook or gloomy Cave,Prompt to enchant some inadvertent wretchWith his unhallow'd Touch. So (Poets sing)Grimalkin to Domestick Vermin swornAn everlasting Foe, with watchful Eye,Lyes nightly brooding o'er a chinky gap,Protending her fell Claws, to thoughtless MiceSure Ruin. So her disembowell'd WebArachne in a Hall, or Kitchin spreads,Obvious to vagrant Flies: She secret standsWithin her woven Cell; the Humming Prey,Regardless of their Fate, rush on the toilsInextricable, nor will aught availTheir Arts, nor Arms, nor Shapes of lovely Hue;The Wasp insidious, and the buzzing Drone,And Butterfly proud of expanded wingsDistinct with Gold, entangled in her Snares,Useless Resistance make: With eager strides,She tow'ring flies to her expected Spoils;Then with envenom'd Jaws the vital BloodDrinks of reluctant Foes, and to her CaveTheir bulky Carcasses triumphant drags.
So pass my Days. But when Nocturnal ShadesThis World invelop, and th' inclement AirPersuades Men to repel benumming Frosts,With pleasant Wines, and crackling blaze of Wood;Me Lonely sitting, nor the glimmering LightOf Make-weight Candle, nor the joyous TalkOf loving Friend delights; distress'd, forlorn,Amidst the horrors of the tedious Night,Darkling I sigh, and feed with dismal ThoughtsMy anxious Mind; or sometimes mournful VerseIndite, and sing of Groves and Myrtle Shades,Or desperate Lady near a purling Stream,Or Lover pendent on a Willow-Tree:Mean while I Labour with eternal Drought,And restless Wish, and Rave; my parched ThroatFinds no Relief, nor heavy Eyes Repose:But if a Slumber haply does InvadeMy weary Limbs, my Fancy's still awake,Thoughtful of Drink, and Eager in a Dream,Tipples Imaginary Pots of Ale;In Vain; awake, I find the settled ThirstStill gnawing, and the pleasant Phantom curse.
Thus do I live from Pleasure quite debarr'd,Nor taste the Fruits that the Sun's genial RaysMature, John-Apple, nor the downy Peach,Nor Walnut in rough-furrow'd Coat secure,Nor Medlar, Fruit delicious in decay;Afflictions Great! yet Greater still remain:My Galligaskins that have long withstoodThe Winter's Fury, and Encroaching Frosts,By Time subdu'd, (what will not Time subdue!)An horrid Chasm disclose, with OrificeWide, Discontinuous; at which the WindsEurus and Auster, and the dreadful ForceOf Boreas, that congeals the Cronian Waves,Tumultuous enter with dire chilling Blasts,Portending Agues. Thus a well-fraught ShipLong sail'd secure, or thrô th' Ægean Deep,Or the Ionian, 'till Cruising nearThe Lilybean Shoar, with hideous CrushOn Scylla, or Charybdis (dang'rous Rocks)She strikes rebounding, whence the shatter'd Oak,So fierce a Shock unable to withstand,Admits the Sea; in at the gaping SideThe crouding Waves Gush with impetuous Rage,Resistless, Overwhelming; Horrors seizeThe Mariners, Death in their Eyes appears,They stare, they lave, they pump, they swear, they pray:(Vain Efforts!) still the battering Waves rush inImplacable, 'till delug'd by the Foam,The Ship sinks found'ring in the vast Abyss.
FINIS.
