Herald lend the Muse an answer,
From his atavus and grandsire;
This was dextrous at his trowel,
That was bred to kill a cow well:
Hence the greasy clumsy mein
In his dress and figure seen;
Hence that mean and sordid soul,
Like his body rank and foul;
Hence that wild suspicious peep,
Like a rogue that steals a sheep;
Hence he learn'd the butcher's guile,
How to cut a throat and smile;
Like a butcher doom'd for life
In his mouth to wear his knife;
Hence he draws his daily food
From his tenant's vital blood.
Lastly, let his gifts be tried,
Borrow'd from the mason side.
Some perhaps may think him able
In the state to build a Babel,
Could we place him in a station
To destroy the old foundation;
True indeed I should be gladder,
Could he learn to mount a ladder :
May he, at his latter end,
Mount alive and dead descend.
In him tell me which prevail,
Female vices most or male?
What produc'd them can you tell,
Human race, or imp of hell?-
WRITTEN UNDER A FIT OF THE GOUT.
'Magni magna patrant, nos non nisi ludicra-
Podagra hæc otia fecit.'
HAN, ancient book! most venerable code!
Learning's first cradle and its last abode!
The huge unnumber'd volumes which we see,
By lazy plagiaries are stolen from thee;
Yet future times to thy sufficient store
Shall ne'er presume to add one letter more.
Thee will I sing in comely wainscot bound,
And golden verge enclosing thee around,
The faithful Horn before, from age to age
Preserving thy invaluable page;
Behind thy patron saint in armour shines,
With sword and lance to guard thy sacred lines;
Beneath his courser's feet the dragon lies
Transfix'd; his blood thy scarlet cover dies;
The' instructive handle's at the bottom fixt,
Lest wrangling critics should pervert the text.
Or if to gingerbread thou shalt descend,
And liquorish learning to thy babes extend;
Or sugar'd plane, o'erspread with beaten gold,
Does the sweet treasure of thy letters hold,
Thou still shalt be my song.-Apollo's choir
I scorn to' invoke; Cadmus! my verse inspire:
'Twas Cadmus who the first materials brought
Of all the learning which has since been taught,
Soon made complete! for mortals ne'er shall know
More than contain❜d of old the Christ-cross row;
What masters dictate or what doctors preach,
Wise matrons hence e'en to our children teach.
But as the name of every plant and flow'r
(So common that each peasant knows its pow'r)
Physicians in mysterious cant express
To' amuse the patient, and enhance their fees,
So, from the letters of our native tongue
Put in Greek scrawls, a mystery too is sprung;
Schools are erected, puzzling grammars made,
And artful men strike out a gainful trade;
Strange characters adorn the learned gate,
And heedless youth catch at the shining bait;
The pregnant boys the noisy charms declare,
And Taus and Deltas* make their mothers stare;
The uncommon sounds amaze the vulgar ear,
And what's uncommon never costs too dear;
Yet in all tongues the Hornbook is the same,
Taught by the Grecian master or the English dame.
But how shall I thy endless virtues tell,
In which thou dost all other books excel?
No greasy thumbs thy spotless leaf can soil,
Nor crooked dogs-ears thy smooth corners spoil;
In idle pages no errata stand,
To tell the blunders of the printer's hand;
No fulsome dedication here is writ,
Nor flattering verse, to praise the author's wit;
*The Greek letters, T, A.
The margin with no tedious notes is vext,
Nor various readings, to confound the text;
All parties in thy literal sense agree,
Thou perfect centre of concordancy!
Search we the records of an ancient date,
Or read what modern histories relate,
They all proclaim what wonders have been done
By the plain letters taken as they run:
**Too high the floods of passion us❜d to roll,
And rend the Roman youth's impatient soul;
His hasty anger furnish'd scenes of blood,
And frequent deaths of worthy men ensued;
In vain were all the weaker methods tried,
None could suffice to stem the furious tide;
Thy sacred line he did but once repeat,
And laid the storm, and cool'd the raging heat.'
Thy heavenly notes like angels' music cheer
Departing souls, and sooth the dying ear.
An aged peasant, on his latest bed,
Wish'd for a friend some godly book to read;
The pious grandson thy known handle takes,
And (eyes lift up) this savoury lecture makes.
Great A he gravely read; the' important sound
The empty walls and hollow roof rebound;
The' expiring ancient rear'd his drooping head,
And thank'd his stars that Hodge had learn'd to read.
Great B, the younker bawls; 'O heavenly breath!
What ghostly comforts in the hour of death!
What hopes I feel! Great C, pronounc'd the boy!
The grandsire dies with ecstasy of joy.
*The advice given to Augustus by the Stoic philosopher Atheno. dorus, who desired the emperor neither to say nor to do any thing till he had first said over the alphabet, as the observance of this rule would moderate his passion, and prevent rash words and ac
Yet in some lands such ignorance abounds,
Whole parishes scarce know thy useful sounds:
Of Essex-Hundreds Fame gives this report,
But Fame, I ween, says many things in sport:
Scarce lives the man to whom thou'rt quite unknown,
Though few the' extent of thy vast empire own.
Whatever wonders magic spells can do
On earth, in air, in sea, in shades below;
What words, profound and dark, wise Mah'met
When his old cow an angel's figure took; [spoke
What strong enchantments sage Canidia knew,
Or Horace sung fierce monsters to subdue,
O mighty Book! are all contain❜d in you:
All human arts and every science meet
Within the limits of thy single sheet:
From thy vast roof all Learning's branches grow,
And all her streams from thy deep fountain flow.
And lo! while thus thy wonders I indite,
Inspir'd, I feel the power of which I write;
The gentler gout his former rage forgets,
Less frequent now and less severe the fits;
Loose grow the chains which bound my useless feet,
Stiffness and pain from every joint retreat,
Surprising strength comes every moment on;
I stand, I step, I walk, and now I run.
Here let me cease, my hobbling numbers stop,
And at thy handle* hang my crutches up.
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