Ethics and Morality

From The Parish: A Satire

I

In politics and politicians' lies
The modern farmer waxes wondrous wise;
Opinionates with wisdom all compact,
And een could tell a nation how to act;
Throws light on darkness with excessive skill,
Knows who acts well and whose designs are ill,
Proves half the members nought but bribery's tools,
And calls the past a dull dark age of fools.


As wise as Solomon they read the news,
Not with their blind forefathers' simple views,
Who read of wars, and wished that wars would cease,
And blessed the King, and wished his country peace;
Who marked the weight of each fat sheep and ox,
The price of grain and rise and fall of stocks;
Who thought it learning how to buy and sell,
And him a wise man who could manage well.
No, not with such old-fashioned, idle views
Do these newsmongers traffic with the news.
They read of politics and not of grain,
And speechify and comment and explain,
And know so much of Parliament and state
You'd think they're members when you heard them prate;
And know so little of their farms the while
They can but urge a wiser man to smile.


II


A thing all consequence here takes the lead,
Reigning knight-errant oer this dirty breed--
A bailiff he, and who so great to brag
Of law and all its terrors as Bumtagg;
Fawning a puppy at his master's side
And frowning like a wolf on all beside;
Who fattens best where sorrow worst appears
And feeds on sad misfortune's bitterest tears?
Such is Bumtagg the bailiff to a hair,
The worshipper and demon of despair,
Who waits and hopes and wishes for success
At every nod and signal of distress,
Happy at heart, when storms begin to boil,
To seek the shipwreck and to share the spoil.
Brave is this Bumtagg, match him if you can;
For there's none like him living--save his man.


As every animal assists his kind
Just so are these in blood and business joined;
Yet both in different colours hide their art,
And each as suits his ends transacts his part.
One keeps the heart-bred villain full in sight,



The other cants and acts the hypocrite,
Smoothing the deed where law sharks set their gin
Like a coy dog to draw misfortune in.
But both will chuckle oer their prisoners' sighs
And are as blest as spiders over flies.
Such is Bumtagg, whose history I resign,
As other knaves wait room to stink and shine;
And, as the meanest knave a dog can brag,
Such is the lurcher that assists Bumtagg.

Farewell And Defiance To Love

Love and thy vain employs, away
From this too oft deluded breast!
No longer will I court thy stay,
To be my bosom's teazing guest.
Thou treacherous medicine, reckoned pure,
Thou quackery of the harassed heart,
That kills what it pretends to cure,
Life's mountebank thou art.


With nostrums vain of boasted powers,
That, ta'en, a worse disorder leave;
An asp hid in a group of flowers,
That bites and stings when few perceive;
Thou mock-truce to the troubled mind,
Leading it more in sorrow's way,
Freedom, that leaves us more confined,
I bid thee hence away.


Dost taunt, and deem thy power beyond
The resolution reason gave?
Tut! Falsity hath snapt each bond,
That kept me once thy quiet slave,
And made thy snare a spider's thread,
Which een my breath can break in twain;
Nor will I be, like Sampson, led
To trust thy wiles again.


I took thee as my staff to guide
Me on the road I did pursue,
And when my weakness most relied
Upon its strength it broke in two.
I took thee as my friendly host
That counsel might in dangers show,
But when I needed thee the most
I found thou wert my foe.


Tempt me no more with rosy cheeks,
Nor daze my reason with bright eyes;
I'm wearied with thy painted freaks,
And sicken at such vanities:
Be roses fine as eer they will,
They, with the meanest, fade and die,
And eyes, though thronged with darts to kill,
Share like mortality.
Feed the young bard, that madly sips
His nectar-draughts from folly's flowers,
Bright eyes, fair cheeks, and ruby lips,
Till muses melt to honey showers;
Lure him to thrum thy empty lays,
While flattery listens to the chimes,
Till words themselves grow sick with praise
And stop for want of rhymes.



Let such be still thy paramours,
And chaunt love's old and idle tune,
Robbing the spring of all its flowers,
And heaven of all her stars and moon,
To gild with dazzling similes
Blind folly's vain and empty lay:
I'm sobered from such phantasies,
So get thee hence away.


Nor bid me sigh for mine own cost,
Nor count its loss, for mine annoy,
Nor say my stubbornness hath lost
A paradise of dainty joy:
I'll not believe thee, till I know
That sober reason turns an ape,
And acts the harlequin, to show
That cares in every shape,


Heart-achings, sighs, and grief-wrung tears,
Shame-blushes at betrayed distress,
Dissembled smiles, and jealous fears,
Are nought but real happiness:
Then will I mourn what now I brave,
And suffer Celia's quirks to be
(Like a poor fate-bewilder'd slave,)
The rulers of my destiny.


I'll weep and sigh wheneer she wills
To frown, and when she deigns to smile
It shall be cure for all my ills,
And, foolish still, I'll laugh the while;
But till that comes, I'll bless the rules
Experience taught, and deem it wise
To hold thee as the game of fools,
And all thy tricks despise.

Braggart


With careful step to keep his balance up
He reels on warily along the street,
Slabbering at mouth and with a staggering stoop
Mutters an angry look at all he meets.
Bumptious and vain and proud he shoulders up
And would be something if he knew but how;
To any man on earth he will not stoop
But cracks of work, of horses and of plough.
Proud of the foolish talk, the ale he quaffs,
He never heeds the insult loud that laughs:
With rosy maid he tries to joke and play,--
Who shrugs and nettles deep his pomp and pride.
And calls him 'drunken beast' and runs away--
King to himself and fool to all beside.

Bonny Lassie O!

O the evening's for the fair, bonny lassie O!
To meet the cooler air and walk an angel there,
With the dark dishevelled hair,
Bonny lassie O!


The bloom's on the brere, bonny lassie O!
Oak apples on the tree; and wilt thou gang to see
The shed I've made for thee,
Bonny lassie O!


Tis agen the running brook, bonny lassie O!
In a grassy nook hard by, with a little patch of sky,
And a bush to keep us dry,
Bonny lassie O!


There's the daisy all the year, bonny lassie O!
There's the king-cup bright as gold, and the speedwell never cold,
And the arum leaves unrolled,
Bonny lassie O!


O meet me at the shed, bonny lassie O!
With a woodbine peeping in, and the roses like thy skin
Blushing, thy praise to win,
Bonny lassie O!


I will meet thee there at e'en, bonny lassie O!
When the bee sips in the bean, and grey willow branches lean,
And the moonbeam looks between,
Bonny lassie O!

A World For Love

Oh, the world is all too rude for thee, with much ado and care;
Oh, this world is but a rude world, and hurts a thing so fair;
Was there a nook in which the world had never been to sear,
That place would prove a paradise when thou and Love were near.


And there to pluck the blackberry, and there to reach the sloe,
How joyously and happily would Love thy partner go;
Then rest when weary on a bank, where not a grassy blade
Had eer been bent by Trouble's feet, and Love thy pillow made.


For Summer would be ever green, though sloes were in their prime,
And Winter smile his frowns to Spring, in beauty's happy clime;
And months would come, and months would go, and all in sunny mood,
And everything inspired by thee grow beautifully good.


And there to make a cot unknown to any care and pain,
And there to shut the door alone on singing wind and rain--
Far, far away from all the world, more rude than rain or wind,
Oh, who could wish a sweeter home, or better place to find?


Than thus to love and live with thee, thou beautiful delight!
Than thus to live and love with thee the summer day and night!
The Earth itself, where thou hadst rest, would surely smile to see
Herself grow Eden once again, possest of Love and thee

With A Painted Ribbon

LITTLE leaves and flow'rets too,

Scatter we with gentle hand,
Kind young spring-gods to the view,
Sporting on an airy band.
Zephyr, bear it on the wing,
Twine it round my loved one's dress;


To her glass then let her spring,
Full of eager joyousness.
Roses round her let her see,
She herself a youthful rose.


Grant, dear life, one look to me!
'Twill repay me all my woes,
What this bosom feels, feel thou.
Freely offer me thy hand;


Let the band that joins us now
Be no fragile rosy band!

Valediction


I ONCE was fond of fools,

And bid them come each day;
Then each one brought his tools
The carpenter to play;


The roof to strip first choosing,


Another to supply,
The wood as trestles using,
To move it by-and-by,


While here and there they ran,


And knock'd against each other;
To fret I soon began,
My anger could not smother,


So cried, "Get out, ye fools!"


At this they were offended
Then each one took his tools,
And so our friendship ended.
Since that, I've wiser been,
And sit beside my door;


When one of them is seen,


I cry, "Appear no more!"
"Hence, stupid knave!" I bellow:
At this he's angry too:


"You impudent old fellow!


And pray, sir, who are you?
Along the streets we riot,
And revel at the fair;


But yet we're pretty quiet,
And folks revile us ne'er.

Don't call us names, then, please!"--
At length I meet with ease,
For now they leave my door-


'Tis better than before!

To The Husbandman

SMOOTHLY and lightly the golden seed by the furrow is cover'd;

Yet will a deeper one, friend, cover thy bones at the last.
Joyously plough'd and sow'd! Here food all living is budding,
E'en from the side of the tomb Hope will not vanish away.

Three Palinodias - 03 Rain And Rainbow

DURING a heavy storm it chanced
That from his room a cockney glanced
At the fierce tempest as it broke,
While to his neighbour thus he spoke:
"The thunder has our awe inspired,
Our barns by lightning have been fired,--
Our sins to punish, I suppose;
But in return, to soothe our woes,
See how the rain in torrents fell,
Making the harvest promise well!
But it's a rainbow that I spy
Extending o'er the dark-grey sky?
With it I'm sure we may dispense,
The colour'd cheat! The vain pretence!"
Dame Iris straightway thus replied:
"Dost dare my beauty to deride?
In realms of space God station'd me
A type of better worlds to be
To eyes that from life's sorrows rove
In cheerful hope to Heav'n above,
And, through the mists that hover here
God and his precepts blest revere.
Do thou, then, grovel like the swine,
And to the ground thy snout confine,
But suffer the enlighten'd eye
To feast upon my majesty."

Three Palinodias - 01

"Incense is hut a tribute for the gods,--
To mortals 'tis but poison."

THE smoke that from thine altar blows,
Can it the gods offend?
For I observe thou hold'st thy nose--


Pray what does this portend?


Mankind deem incense to excel
Each other earthly thing,
So he that cannot bear its smell,


No incense e'er should bring.
With unmoved face by thee at least
To dolls is homage given;


If not obstructed by the priest,
The scent mounts up to heaven.

Thoughts On Jesus Christ's Decent Into Hell

WHAT wondrous noise is heard around!
Through heaven exulting voices sound,


A mighty army marches on
By thousand millions follow'd, lo,
To yon dark place makes haste to go


God's Son, descending from His throne!
He goes--the tempests round Him break,


As Judge and Hero cometh He;
He goes--the constellations quake,
The sun, the world quake fearfully.


I see Him in His victor-car,
On fiery axles borne afar,


Who on the cross for us expired.
The triumph to yon realms He shows,--
Remote from earth, where star ne'er glows,


The triumph He for us acquired.
He cometh, Hell to extirpate,


Whom He, by dying, wellnigh kill'd;
He shall pronounce her fearful fate
Hark! now the curse is straight fulfill'd.


Hell sees the victor come at last,
She feels that now her reign is past,


She quakes and fears to meet His sight;
She knows His thunders' terrors dread,
In vain she seeks to hide her head,


Attempts to fly, but vain is flight;
Vainly she hastes to 'scape pursuit


And to avoid her Judge's eye;
The Lord's fierce wrath restrains her foot
Like brazen chains,--she cannot fly.


Here lies the Dragon, trampled down,
He lies, and feels God's angry frown,


He feels, and grinneth hideously;
He feels Hell's speechless agonies,
A thousand times he howls and sighs:


"Oh, burning flames! quick, swallow me!"
There lies he in the fiery waves,



By torments rack'd and pangs infernal,
Instant annihilation craves,
And hears, those pangs will be eternal.


Those mighty squadrons, too, are here,
The partners of his cursed career,


Yet far less bad than he were they.
Here lies the countless throng combined,
In black and fearful crowds entwined,


While round him fiery tempests play;
He sees how they the Judge avoid,


He sees the storm upon them feed,
Yet is not at the sight o'erjoy'd,
Because his pangs e'en theirs exceed.


The Son of Man in triumph passes
Down to Hell's wild and black morasses,


And there unfolds His majesty.
Hell cannot bear the bright array,
For, since her first created day.


Darkness alone e'er govern'd she.
She lay remote from ev'ry light


With torments fill'd in Chaos here;
God turn'd for ever from her sight
His radiant features' glory clear.


Within the realms she calls her own,
She sees the splendour of the Son,


His dreaded glories shining forth;
She sees Him clad in rolling thunder,
She sees the rocks all quake with wonder,


When God before her stands in wrath.
She sees He comes her Judge to be,


She feels the awful pangs inside her,
Herself to slay endeavours she,
But e'en this comfort is denied her.


Now looks she back, with pains untold,
Upon those happy times of old,


When those glories gave her joy;
When yet her heart revered the truth,
When her glad soul, in endless youth



And rapture dwelt, without alloy.
She calls to mind with madden'd thought


How over man her wiles prevail'd;
To take revenge on God she sought,
And feels the vengeance it entail'd.


God was made man, and came to earth.
Then Satan cried with fearful mirth:


"E'en He my victim now shall be!"
He sought to slay the Lord Most High,
The world's Creator now must die;


But, Satan, endless woe to thee!
Thou thought'st to overcome Him then,


Rejoicing in His suffering;
But he in triumph comes again
To bind thee: Death! where is thy sting?


Speak, Hell! where is thy victory?
Thy power destroy'd and scatter'd see!


Know'st thou not now the Highest's might?
See, Satan, see thy rule o'erthrown!


By thousand-varying pangs weigh'd down,
Thou dwell'st in dark and endless night.


As though by lightning struck thou liest,
No gleam of rapture far or wide;


In vain! no hope thou there decriest,--
For me alone Messiah died!


A howling rises through the air,
A trembling fills each dark vault there,


When Christ to Hell is seen to come.
She snarls with rage, but needs must cower
Before our mighty hero's power;


He signs--and Hell is straightway dumb.
Before his voice the thunders break,


On high His victor-banner blows;
E'en angels at His fury quake,
When Christ to the dread judgment goes.


Now speaks He, and His voice is thunder,



He speaks, the rocks are rent in sunder,


His breath is like devouring flames.
Thus speaks He: "Tremble, ye accurs'd!
He who from Eden hurl'd you erst,


Your kingdom's overthrow proclaims.
Look up! My children once were ye,


Your arms against Me then ye turn'd,
Ye fell, that ye might sinners be,
Ye've now the wages that ye earn'd.


"My greatest foeman from that day,
Ye led my dearest friends astray,--


As ye had fallen, man must fall.
To kill him evermore ye sought,
'They all shall die the death,' ye thought;


But howl! for Me I won them all.
For them alone did I descend,


For them pray'd, suffer'd, perish'd I.
Ye ne'er shall gain your wicked end;
Who trusts in Me shall never die.


"In endless chains here lie ye now,
Nothing can save you from the slough.


Not boldness, not regret for crime.
Lie, then, and writhe in brimstone fire!
'Twas ye yourselves drew down Mine ire,


Lie and lament throughout all time!
And also ye, whom I selected,


E'en ye forever I disown,
For ye My saving grace rejected
Ye murmur? blame yourselves alone!


"Ye might have lived with Me in bliss,
For I of yore had promis'd this;


Ye sinn'd, and all My precepts slighted
Wrapp'd in the sleep of sin ye dwelt,
Now is My fearful judgment felt,


By a just doom your guilt requited."--
Thus spake He, and a fearful storm


From Him proceeds, the lightnings glow,



The thunders seize each wicked form,
And hurl them in the gulf below.


The God-man closeth Hell's sad doors,
In all His majesty He soars


From those dark regions back to light.
He sitteth at the Father's side;
Oh, friends, what joy doth this betide!


For us, for us He still will fight!
The angels sacred quire around


Rejoice before the mighty Lord,
So that all creatures hear the sound:
"Zebaoth's God be aye ador'd!"

The Reckoning

LEADER.
LET no cares now hover o'er us
Let the wine unsparing run!


Wilt thou swell our merry chorus?
Hast thou all thy duty done?
SOLO.
Two young folks--the thing is curious--
Loved each other; yesterday


Both quite mild, to-day quite furious,


Next day, quite the deuce to pay!
If her neck she there was stooping,
He must here needs pull his hair.

I revived their spirits drooping,
And they're now a happy pair.
CHORUS.
Surely we for wine may languish!
Let the bumper then go round!


For all sighs and groans of anguish
Thou to-day in joy hast drown'd.
SOLO.
Why, young orphan, all this wailing?
"Would to heaven that I were dead!


For my guardian's craft prevailing


Soon will make me beg my bread."
Knowing well the rascal genus,
Into court I dragg'd the knave;

Fair the judges were between us,
And the maiden's wealth did save.
CHORUS.
Surely we for wine may languish!



Let the bumper then go round!
For all sighs and groans of anguish
Thou to-day in joy hast drown'd.
SOLO.

To a little fellow, quiet,
Unpretending and subdued,
Has a big clown, running riot,

Been to-day extremely rude.

I bethought me of my duty,
And my courage swell'd apace,
So I spoil'd the rascal's beauty,

Slashing him across the face.
CHORUS.
Surely we for wine may languish!
Let the bumper then go round!


For all sighs and groans of anguish
Thou to-day in joy hast drown'd.
SOLO.
Brief must be my explanation,
For I really have done nought.


Free from trouble and vexation,


I a landlord's business bought.
There I've done, with all due ardour,
All that duty order'd me;

Each one ask'd me for the larder,
And there was no scarcity.
CHORUS.
Surely we for wine may languish!
Let the bumper then go round!


For all sighs and groans of anguish
Thou to-day in joy hast drown'd.



LEADER.
Each should thus make proclamation
Of what he did well to-day!


That's the match whose conflagration


Should inflame our tuneful lay.
Let it be our precept ever
To admit no waverer here!


For to act the good endeavour,
None but rascals meek appear.
CHORUS.
Surely we for wine may languish!
Let the bumper then go round!


For all sighs and groans of anguish
We have now in rapture drown'd.
TRIO.
Let each merry minstrel enter,
He's right welcome to our hall!


'Tis but with the selfÄtormentor
That we are not liberal;
For we fear that his caprices,
That his eye-brows dark and sad,


That his grief that never ceases
Hide an empty heart, or bad.
CHORUS.
No one now for wine shall languish!
Here no minstrel shall be found,


Who all sighs and groans of anguish,
Has not first in rapture drown'd!

The Maid Of The Mill's Treachery

WHENCE comes our friend so hastily,

When scarce the Eastern sky is grey?
Hath he just ceased, though cold it be,
In yonder holy spot to pray?


The brook appears to hem his path,


Would he barefooted o'er it go?
Why curse his orisons in wrath,
Across those heights beclad with snow?
Alas! his warm bed he bath left,
Where he had look'd for bliss, I ween;


And if his cloak too, had been reft,


How fearful his disgrace had been!
By yonder villain sorely press'd,
His wallet from him has been torn;


Our hapless friend has been undress'd,
Left well nigh naked as when born.
The reason why he came this road,
Is that he sought a pair of eyes,


Which, at the mill, as brightly glow'd


As those that are in Paradise.
He will not soon again be there;
From out the house he quickly hied,


And when he gain'd the open air,
Thus bitterly and loudly cried
'Within her gaze, so dazzling bright,
No word of treachery I could read;


She seem'd to see me with delight,


Yet plann'd e'en then this cruel deed!
Could I, when basking in her smile,
Dream of the treason in her breast?


She bade kind Cupid stay awhile,
And he was there, to make us blest.



'To taste of love's sweet ecstasy


Throughout the night, that endless seem'd,
And for her mother's help to cry
Only when morning sunlight beam'd!


A dozen of her kith and kin,


A very human flood, in-press'd
Her cousins came, her aunts peer'd in,
And uncles, brothers, and the rest.
'Then what a tumult, fierce and loud!
Each seem'd a beast of prey to be;


The maiden's honour all the crowd,


With fearful shout, demand of me.
Why should they, madmen-like, begin
To fall upon a guiltless youth?


For he who such a prize would win,
Far nimbler needs must be, in truth.
'The way to follow up with skill
His freaks, by love betimes is known:


He ne'er will leave, within a mill,


Sweet flowers for sixteen years alone.-
They stole my clothes away,-yes, all!
And tried my cloak besides to steal.

How strange that any house so small
So many rascals could conceal!
'Then I sprang up, and raved, and swore,
To force a passage through them there.


I saw the treacherous maid once more,


And she was still, alas, so fair
They all gave way before my wrath,
Wild outcries flew about pell-mell;


At length I managed to rush forth,
With voice of thunder, from that hell.


'As maidens of the town we fly,


We'll shun you maidens of the village;
Leave it to those of quality
Their humble worshippers to pillage.


Yet if ye are of practised skill,


And of all tender ties afraid,
Exchange your lovers, if ye will,
But never let them be betray'd.'
Thus sings he in the winter-night,
While not a blade of grass was green.


I laugh'd to see his piteous plight,


For it was well-deserved, I ween.
And may this be the fate of all,
Who treat by day their true loves ill,


And, with foolhardy daring, crawl
By night to Cupid's treacherous mill!

The Godlike

NOBLE be man,
Helpful and good!
For that alone
Distinguisheth him
From all the beings
Unto us known.


Hail to the beings,
Unknown and glorious,
Whom we forebode!
From his example
Learn we to know them!


For unfeeling
Nature is ever:
On bad and on good
The sun alike shineth;
And on the wicked,
As on the best,
The moon and stars gleam.


Tempest and torrent,
Thunder and hail,
Roar on their path,
Seizing the while,
As they haste onward,
One after another.


Even so, fortune
Gropes 'mid the throng--
Innocent boyhood's
Curly head seizing,--
Seizing the hoary
Head of the sinner.


After laws mighty,
Brazen, eternal,
Must all we mortals
Finish the circuit
Of our existence.


Man, and man only
Can do the impossible;
He 'tis distinguisheth,
Chooseth and judgeth;
He to the moment
Endurance can lend.


He and he only
The good can reward,
The bad can he punish,
Can heal and can save;



All that wanders and strays
Can usefully blend.
And we pay homage
To the immortals
As though they were men,
And did in the great,
What the best, in the small,
Does or might do.


Be the man that is noble,
Both helpful and good.
Unweariedly forming
The right and the useful,
A type of those beings
Our mind hath foreshadow'd!

The Garlands

KLOPSTOCK would lead us away from Pindus; no longer for laurel
May we be eager--the homely acorn alone must content us;
Yet he himself his more-than-epic crusade is conducting
High on Golgotha's summit, that foreign gods he may honour!
Yet, on what hill he prefers, let him gather the angels together,
Suffer deserted disciples to weep o'er the grave of the just one:
There where a hero and saint hath died, where a bard breath'd his numbers,
Both for our life and our death an ensample of courage resplendent
And of the loftiest human worth to bequeath,--ev'ry nation
There will joyously kneel in devotion ecstatic, revering
Thorn and laurel garland, and all its charms and its tortures.

The Fox And The Crane

ONCE two persons uninvited

Came to join my dinner table;
For the nonce they lived united,
Fox and crane yclept in fable.
Civil greetings pass'd between us
Then I pluck'd some pigeons tender


For the fox of jackal-genius,
Adding grapes in full-grown splendour.
Long-neck'd flasks I put as dishes
For the crane, without delaying,


Fill'd with gold and silver fishes,
In the limpid water playing.
Had ye witness'd Reynard planted
At his flat plate, all demurely,


Ye with envy must have granted:
"Ne'er was such a gourmand, surely!"
While the bird with circumspection
On one foot, as usual, cradled,


From the flasks his fish-refection
With his bill and long neck ladled.
One the pigeons praised,--the other,
As they went, extoll'd the fishes,


Each one scoffing at his brother
For preferring vulgar dishes.


*
If thou wouldst preserve thy credit,
When thou askest folks to guzzle

At thy hoard, take care to spread it
Suited both for bill and muzzle.

The Dilettante And The Critic

A BOY a pigeon once possess'd,
In gay and brilliant plumage dress'd;
He loved it well, and in boyish sport
Its food to take from his mouth he taught,
And in his pigeon he took such pride,
That his joy to others he needs must confide.


An aged fox near the place chanc'd to dwell,
Talkative, clever, and learned as well;
The boy his society used to prize,
Hearing with pleasure his wonders and lies.


"My friend the fox my pigeon must see
He ran, and stretch'd 'mongst the bushes lay he
"Look, fox, at my pigeon, my pigeon so fair!
His equal I'm sure thou hast look'd upon ne'er!"


"Let's see!"--The boy gave it.--"'Tis really not bad;
And yet, it is far from complete, I must add.
The feathers, for, instance, how short! 'Tis absurd!"
So he set to work straightway to pluck the poor bird.


The boy screamed.--"Thou must now stronger pinions supply,
Or else 'twill be ugly, unable to fly."--
Soon 'twas stripp'd--oh, the villain!--and torn all to pieces.
The boy was heart-broken,--and so my tale ceases.


He who sees in the boy shadow'd forth his own case,
Should be on his guard 'gainst the fox's whole race.

The Country Schoolmaster

I.
A MASTER of a country school
Jump'd up one day from off his stool,
Inspired with firm resolve to try
To gain the best society;
So to the nearest baths he walk'd,
And into the saloon he stalk'd.
He felt quite. startled at the door,
Ne'er having seen the like before.
To the first stranger made he now
A very low and graceful bow,
But quite forgot to bear in mind
That people also stood behind;
His left-hand neighbor's paunch he struck
A grievous blow, by great ill luck;
Pardon for this he first entreated,
And then in haste his bow repeated.
His right hand neighbor next he hit,
And begg'd him, too, to pardon it;
But on his granting his petition,
Another was in like condition;
These compliments he paid to all,
Behind, before, across the hall;
At length one who could stand no more,
Show'd him impatiently the door.


May many, pond'ring on their crimes,
A moral draw from this betimes!


II.
As he proceeded on his way
He thought, "I was too weak to-day;
To bow I'll ne'er again be seen;
For goats will swallow what is green."
Across the fields he now must speed,
Not over stumps and stones, indeed,
But over meads and cornfields sweet,
Trampling down all with clumsy feet.
A farmer met him by-and-by,
And didn't ask him: how? or why?
But with his fist saluted him.


"I feel new life in every limb!"
Our traveller cried in ecstasy.
"Who art thou who thus gladden'st me?
May Heaven such blessings ever send!
Ne'er may I want a jovial friend!"

The Critic

I HAD a fellow as my guest,
Not knowing he was such a pest,
And gave him just my usual fare;
He ate his fill of what was there,


And for desert my best things swallow'd,
Soon as his meal was o'er, what follow'd?
Led by the Deuce, to a neighbour he went,
And talk'd of my food to his heart's content:
"The soup might surely have had more spice,
The meat was ill-brown'd, and the wine wasn't nice."
A thousand curses alight on his head!
'Tis a critic, I vow! Let the dog be struck dead!

Rules For Monarchs

IF men are never their thoughts to employ,
Take care to provide them a life full of joy;
But if to some profit and use thou wouldst bend them,
Take care to shear them, and then defend them.

Poetry


GOD to his untaught children sent

Law, order, knowledge, art, from high,
And ev'ry heav'nly favour lent,
The world's hard lot to qualify.


They knew not how they should behave,


For all from Heav'n stark-naked came;
But Poetry their garments gave,
And then not one had cause for shame.

Neither This Nor That

IF thou to be a slave shouldst will,
Thou'lt get no pity, but fare ill;
And if a master thou wouldst be,
The world will view it angrily;
And if in status quo thou stay,
That thou art but a fool, they'll say.

Legend


THERE lived in the desert a holy man

To whom a goat-footed Faun one day
Paid a visit, and thus began


To his surprise: 'I entreat thee to pray
That grace to me and my friends may be given,
That we may be able to mount to Heaven,
For great is our thirst for heav'nly bliss.'
The holy man made answer to this:
'Much danger is lurking in thy petition,
Nor will it be easy to gain admission;
Thou dost not come with an angel's salute;
For I see thou wearest a cloven foot.'
The wild man paused, and then answer'd he:
'What doth my goat's foot matter to thee?
Full many I've known into heaven to pass
Straight and with ease, with the head of an ass!'

Hermann And Dorothea - III. Thalia

THE BURGHERS.

THUS did the prudent son escape from the hot conversation,
But the father continued precisely as he had begun it
What is not in a man can never come out of him, surely!
Never, I fear, shall I see fulfill'd my dearest of wishes,
That my son should be unlike his father, but better.
What would be the fate of a house or a town, if its inmates
Did not all take pride in preserving, renewing, improving,
As we are taught by the age, and by the wisdom of strangers?
Man is not born to spring out of the ground, just like a mere mushroom,
And to rot away soon in the very place that produced him!
Leaving behind him no trace of what he has done in his lifetime.
One can judge by the look of a house of the taste of its master,
As on ent'ring a town, one can judge the authorities' fitness.
For where the towers and walls are falling, where in the ditches
Dirt is collected, and dirt in every street is seen lying,
Where the stones come out of their groove, and are not replaced there,
Where the beams are rotting, and vainly the houses are waiting
New supports; that town is sure to be wretchedly managed.
For where order and cleanliness reign not supreme in high places,
Then to dirt and delay the citizens soon get accustom'd,
Just as the beggar's accustom'd to wear his cloths full of tatters.
Therefore I often have wish'd that Hermann would start on his travels
Ere he's much older, and visit at any rate Strasburg and Frankfort,
And that pleasant town, Mannheim, so evenly built and so cheerful.
He who has seen such large and cleanly cities rests never
Till his own native town, however small, he sees better'd.
Do not all strangers who visit us praise our well-mended gateways,
And the well-whited tower, the church so neatly repair'd too?
Do not all praise our pavements? Our well-arranged cover'd-in conduits,
Always well furnish'd with water, utility blending with safety,
So that a fire, whenever it happens, is straightway extinguish'd,--
Is not this the result of that conflagration so dreadful?
Six times in Council I superintended the town's works, receiving
Hearty thanks and assistance from every well-disposed burgher.
How I design'd, follow'd up, and ensured the completion of measures
Worthy men had projected, and afterwards left all unfinish'd!
Finally, every man in the Council took pleasure in working.
All put forth their exertions, and now they have finally settled
That new highway to make, which will join our town with the main road.
But I am greatly afraid that the young generation won't act thus;
Some on the one hand think only of pleasure and trumpery dresses,
Others wont stir out of doors, and pass all their time by the fireside,
And our Hermann, I fear, will always be one of this last sort.'


Forthwith to him replied the excellent sensible mother
'Father, you're always unjust whenever you speak of your son, and
That is the least likely way to obtain your wishes' fulfillment,
For we cannot fashion our children after our fancy.
We must have them and love them, as God has given them to us,
Bring them up for the best, and let each do as he listeth.



One has one kind of gift, another possesses another,
Each one employs them, and each in turn in his separate fashion
Good and happy becomes. My Hermann shall not be upbraided,
For I know that he well deserves the wealth he'll inherit;
He'll be an excellent landlord, a pattern to burghers and peasants,
And, as I clearly foresee, by no means the last in the Council.
But with your blame and reproaches, you daily dishearten him sadly,
As you have done just now, and make the poor fellow unhappy.'


Then she left the apartment, and after her son hasten'd quickly,
Hoping somewhere to find him, and with her words of affection
Gladden his heart, for he, the excellent son, well deserved it.
Smilingly, when she had closed the door, continued the father
'What a wonderful race of people are women and children.
All of them fain would do whatever pleases their fancy,
And we're only alow'd to praise them and flatter them freely.
Once for all there's truth in the ancient proverb which tells us:
He who moves not forward, goes backward! a capital saying!'


Speaking with much circumspection, the druggist made answer as follows
'What you say, good neighbour, is certainly true, and my plan is
Always to think of improvement, provided tho' new, 'tis not costly.
But what avails it in truth, unless one has plenty of money,
Active and fussy to he, improving both inside and outside?
Sadly confined are the means of a burgher; e'en when he knows it,
Little that's good he is able to do, his purse is too narrow,
And the sum wanted too great; and so he is always prevented.
I have had plenty of schemes! but then I was terribly frighten'd
At the expense, especially during a time of such danger.
Long had my house smiled upon me, decked out in modish exterior,
Long had my windows with large panes of glass resplendently glitterd.
Who can compete with a merchant, however, who, rolling in riches,
Also knows the manner in which what is best can be purchased?
Only look at the house up yonder, the new one: how handsome
Looks the stucco of those white scrolls on the green-colour'd panels!
Large are the plates of the windows--how shining and brilliant the panes are,
Quite eclipsing the rest of the houses that stand in the market!
Yet at the time of the fire, our two were by far the most handsome,
Mine at the sign of the Angel, and yours at the old Golden Lion.
Then my garden was famous throughout the whole country, and strangers
Used to stop as they pass'd and peep through my red-colourd palings
At my beggars of stone, and at my dwarfs, which were painted,
He to whom I gave coffee inside my beautiful grotto,
Which, alas! is now cover'd with dust and tumbling to pieces,
Used to rejoice in the colour'd glimmering light of the mussels,
Ranged in natural order around it, and connoisseurs even
Used with dazzled eyes to gaze at the spars and the coral.
Then, in the drawing-room, people look'd with delight on the painting,
Where the prim ladies and gentlemen walked in the garden demurely,
And with pointed fingers presented the flowers, and held them.
Ah, if only such things were now to be seen! Little care I
Now to go out; for everything needs to be alter'd and tasteful,



As it is call'd; and white are the benches of wood and the palings;
All things are simple and plain; and neither carving not gilding
Now are employ'd, and foreign timber is now all the fashion.
I should be only too pleased to possess some novelty also,
So as to march with the times, and my household furniture alter.
But we all are afraid to make the least alteration,
For who is able to pay the present charges of workmen?
Lately a fancy possess'd me, the angel Michael, whose figure
Hangs up over my shop, to treat to a new coat of gilding,
And the terrible Dragon, who round his feet is entwining;
But I have left him all brown; as he is; for the cost quite alarm'd me.'