George Crabbe

“ She knows what Reason yields and dreads what Madness may.
Next with their Boy, a decent Couple came,
And call’d him Robert, ’twas his Father’s name;
Three Girls preceded, all by time endear’d,
And future Births were neither hop’d nor fear’d;
Blest in each other, but to no excess;
Health, quiet, comfort, form’d their happiness;
Love all made up of torture and delight,
Was but mere madness in this Couple’s sight:
Susan could think, though not without a sigh,
If she were gone, who should her place supply? ”

“ Guarded by Virtue from surrounding Foes;
Their Virtue lost, and of their Triumphs vain,
Lo! how they sunk to Slavery again!
Satiate with Power, of Fame and Wealth possest,
A Nation grows too glorious to be blest;
Conspicuous made, she stands the Mark of all,
And Foes join Foes to triumph in her Fall.
Thus speaks the Page that paints Ambition’s Race,
The Monarch’s Pride, his Glory, his Disgrace;
The headlong Course, that madd’ning Heroes run,
How soon triumphant, and how soon undone;
How Slaves, turn’d Tyrants, offer Crowns to sale,
And each fall’n Nation’s melancholy Tale. ”

“ Look’d on the Sick and was asham’d to speak.—
Slowly they bore, with solemn Step, the Dead;
When Grief grew loud and bitter Tears were shed:
My Part began; a Crowd drew near the Place,
Awe in each Eye, Alarm in every Face:
So swift the Ill! and of so fierce a kind,
That Fear with Pity, mingled in each Mind;
Friends with the Husband came their Griefs to blend;
For Good-man Frankford was to all a Friend.
The last-born Boy they held above the Bier,
He knew not Grief, but Cries express’d his Fear;
Each different Age and Sex reveal’d its pain,
In now a louder, now a lower Strain ”

“ What Age and Sickness for a Man so bold,
Had done, we know not;—none beheld him old:
By night as business urg’d, he sought the Wood,
The ditch was deep, the rain had caus’d a flood;
The foot-bridge fail’d, he plung’d beneath the Deep,
And slept, if truth were his, th’ eternal sleep.
These have we nam’d; on Life’s rough Sea they sail,
With many a prosperous, many an adverse gale!{67}
Where Passion soon, like powerful Winds, will rage,
While wearied Prudence with their Strength engage;
Then each, in aid, shall some Companion ask,
For Help or Comfort in the tedious task ”

“ The labour past, and toils to come explore;
See them alternate suns and showers engage,
And hoard up aches and anguish for their age;
Thro’ fens and marshy moors their steps pursue,
When their warm pores imbibe the evening dew;
Then own that labour may as fatal be
To these thy slaves, as thine excess to thee.
Amid this tribe too oft a manly pride
Strives in strong toil the fainting heart to hide;
There may you see the youth of slender frame
Contend with weakness, weariness, and shame;
Yet urg’d along, and proudly loth to yield,
He strives to join his fellows of the field ”

“ Far from Mankind and seeming far from Care;
Safe from all want and sound in every limb;
Yes! there was he and there was Care with him.
Unbound and heap’d these valued works beside,
Laid humbler works, the pedler’s pack supplied;
Yet these, long since, have all acquir’d a name;
The Wandering Jew has found his way to fame:
And fame, denied to many a labour’d song,
Crowns Thumb the great and Hickerthrift the strong.
There too is he, by wizard-power upheld,
Jack, by whose arm the giant-brood were quell’d;
His shoes of swiftness on his feet he plac’d ”

“ To soothe the Woes, they cannot feel;
Woman will strive to heal his Pains,
And weep for those, she cannot heal:
Hers is warm Pity’s sacred Glow;
From all her Stores, she bears a Part,
And bids the Spring of Hope re-flow,
That languish’d in the fainting Heart.
“What though so pale his haggard Face,
“So sunk and sad his Looks,”—she cries;
“And far unlike our nobler Race,
“With crisped Locks and rolling Eyes;
“Yet Misery marks him of our Kind,
“We see him lost, alone, afraid;
“And Pangs of Body, Griefs in Mind,
“Pronounce him Man and ask our Aid. ”

“ Tragedians all and well arrang’d in Black!
Who Nature, Feeling, Force, Expression lack;—
Who cause no Tear, but gloomily pass by,
And shake their Sables in the wearied Eye,
That turns disgusted from the pompous Scene,
Proud without Grandeur, with Profusion, mean!
The Tear for Kindness past Affection owes;
For Worth deceas’d the Sigh from Reason flows;
E’en well-feign’d Passion for our Sorrows call,
And real Tears for mimic Miseries fall:—
But this poor Farce has neither Truth nor Art,
To please the Fancy or to touch the Heart ”

“ Scornful he smil’d, but felt no more than Scorn;
For why, when Fortune plac’d her State so low,
In useless Spite his lofty Malice show?
Why in a Mischief of the meaner Kind,
Exhaust the Vigour of a rancorous Mind?
But soon as Fame the Fairy-gifts proclaim’d,
Quick-rising Wrath his ready Soul inflam’d;{200}
To swear by Vows, that ev’n the Wicked tie,
The Nymph should weep her varied Destiny;
That every Gift, that now appear’d to shine
In her fair Face and make her Smiles divine,
Should all, the Poison of his Magic prove,
And they should scorn her, whom she sought for Love. ”

“ Man’s common Good, who feels his common Care?
Because the Hope is his, that bids him fly
Night’s soft Repose and Sleep’s mild Power defy;
That After-ages may repeat his Praise,
And Fame’s fair Meed be his, for length of days.
Delightful Prospect! when we leave behind,
A worthy Offspring of the fruitful Mind!
Which, born and nurst through many an anxious day,
Shall all our Labour, all our Cares repay.
Yet all are not these Births of noble Kind,
Not all the Children of a vigorous Mind;{143}
But where the Wisest should alone preside,
The Weak would rule us and the Blind would guide ”

“ Fly Reason’s Power and shun the Light of Truth.
With Fiction then does real Joy reside,
And is our Reason the delusive Guide?{162}
Is it then right to dream the Syrens sing?
Or mount enraptur’d on the Dragon’s Wing?
No, ’tis the infant Mind, to Care unknown,
That makes th’ imagin’d Paradise its own;
Soon as Reflections in the Bosom rise,
Light Slumbers vanish from the clouded Eyes:
The Tear and Smile, that once together rose,
Are then divorc’d; the Head and Heart are foes;
Enchantment bows to Wisdom’s serious Plan,
And Pain and Prudence make and mar the Man. ”

“ That I was fated to sustain;
And add to all, without—within,
A Soul defil’d with every Stain,
That Man’s reflecting Mind can pain;
That Pride, Wrong, Rage, Despair can make;
In fact, they’d nearly touch’d my Brain,
And Reason on her Throne would shake.{234}
But Pity will the vilest seek,
If punish’d Guilt will not repine,—
I heard an heavenly Teacher speak,
And felt the Sun of Mercy shine:
I hail’d the Light! the Birth divine! ”

“ Till Want and deep Regret, those Charms destroy,
“That Time would spare, if Time were pass’d in joy?
“With him in varied Pains from morn till night,
“Your Hours shall pass; yourself a Ruffian’s right;
“Your softest Bed shall be the knotted Wool;
“Your purest Drink, the Waters of the Pool!
“Your sweetest Food will but your Life sustain;
“And your best Pleasure be a Rest from Pain;
“While thro’ each Year, as Health and Strength abate,
“You’ll weep your Woes and wonder at your Fate ”

“ What Infant-members in my flock appear,
What Pairs I blest in the departed year;
And who, of Old or Young, or Nymphs or Swains,
Are lost to Life, its Pleasures and its pains.
No Muse I ask, before my view to bring
The humble actions of the Swains I sing.—
How pass’d the Youthful, how the Old their days,
Who sank in sloth and who aspir’d to praise ”

“ Delights that live, when Worlds no more endure?
The Sister-spirit long may lodge below,
And Pains from Nature, Pains from Reason, know;
Through all the common Ills of Life may run,
By Hope perverted and by Love undone;{106}
A Wife’s Distress, a Mother’s Pangs, may dread,
And Widow-tears, in bitter Anguish, shed;
May at Old Age arrive through numerous Harms,
With Children’s Children in those feeble Arms;
Nor till by Years of Want and Grief opprest,
Shall the sad Spirit flee and be at rest! ”

“ Were others joyful, he look’d smiling on,
And gave Allowance where he needed none;
Good he refus’d with future Ill to buy,
Nor knew a Joy that caus’d Reflection’s Sigh;
A Friend to Virtue, his unclouded Breast
No Envy stung, no Jealousy distress’d;
(Bane of the Poor! it wounds their weaker Mind,
To miss one Favour, which their Neighbours find:)
Yet far was he from Stoic-pride remov’d;
He felt humanely, and he warmly lov’d:
I mark’d his Action, when his Infant died,
And his old Neighbour for Offence was tried ”

“ Scowling Contempt, ‘how pitiful this Pride!
‘What are these specious Gifts, these paltry Gains,
‘But base Rewards for ignominious Pains?
‘With all thy Tricking, still for Bread we strive,
‘Thine is, proud Wretch! the Care that cannot thrive,
‘By all thy boasted Skill and baffled Hooks,
‘Thou gain’st no more than Students by their Books;
‘No more than I for my poor Deeds am paid,
‘Whom none can blame, will help, or dare upbraid. ”

“ We see how Reason calms the raging Mind,
And how contending Passions urge Mankind:
Some, won by Virtue, glow with sacred fire;
Some, lur’d by Vice, indulge the low desire;
Whilst others, won by either, now pursue
The guilty Chace, now keep the good in view;
For ever wretched, with themselves at strife,
They lead a puzzled, vext, uncertain Life;
For, transient Vice bequeaths a lingering Pain,
Which transient Virtue seeks to cure in vain. ”

“ If Passion rule us, be that passion Pride;{29}
If Reason, Reason bids us strive to raise
Our fallen hearts and be like Him we praise!
Or if Affection still the soul subdue,}
Bring all his virtues, all his worth in view,}
And let Affection find its comfort too:}
For how can Grief so deeply wound the heart,
When Admiration claims so large a part?
Grief is a foe, expel him then thy soul,
Let nobler thoughts the nearer views controul!
Oh! make the Age to come thy better care,
See other Rutlands, other Granbys there! ”

“ When such their Union, years of Pain they know,
Their Joys come seldom and their Pains pass slow;
In Health just fed, in Sickness just reliev’d;
By Hardships harass’d and by Children griev’d;
In petty Quarrels and in peevish Strife,
The once fond Couple waste the Spring of Life;
But when to Age mature those Children grown,
Find Hopes and Homes and Hardships of their own;
The harass’d Couple feel their lingering Woes
Then passing off and find, at length, Repose. ”

“ Look’d joyful love, and softly said, ‘Amen.’
Now of that Vine he would no more increase,
Those playful Branches now disturb his peace;
Them he beholds around his table spread,
But finds, the more the Branch, the less the Bread;
And while they run his humble walls about,
They keep the sunshine of good-humour out.
Cease, man, to grieve! thy Master’s lot survey,
Whom Wife and Children, thou and thine obey;
A Farmer proud, beyond a Farmer’s pride,
Of all around the envy or the guide ”

“ A valued Mother and a faithful Wife;
Call’d not away, when Time had loos’d each Hold
On the fond Heart and each Desire grew cold;
But when, to all that knit us to our Kind,
She felt fast-bound, as Charity can bind;—
Not when the Ills of Age, its Pain, its Care,
The drooping Spirit for its Fate prepare;
And, each Affection failing, leaves the Heart
Loos’d from Life’s Charm and willing to depart;—
But ALL her Ties the strong Invader broke,
In all their Strength, by one tremendous Stroke!{121}
Sudden and swift the eager Pest came on,
And all was Terror, till all Hope was gone ”

“ And there his Son, who, tried by years of pain,
Prov’d that misfortunes may be sent in vain.
The Magic-mill that grinds the gran’nams young,
Close at the side of kind Godiva hung;
She, of her favourite place the pride and joy,
Of charms at once most lavish and most coy;
By wanton act, the purest fame could raise,
And give the boldest deed, the chastest praise.
There stands the stoutest Ox in England fed;
There fights the boldest Jew, Whitechapel-bred ”

“ Not Music so commands, nor so the Muse;
Give Poets Claret, they grow idle soon;
Feed the Musician and he’s out of tune;
But the sick Mind of this Disease possest,
Flies from all Cure and sickens when at rest.
Now sing, my Muse, what various Parts compose
These rival Sheets of Politicks and Prose.
First, from each Brother’s Hoard a Part they draw,
A mutual Theft that never fear’d a Law;
Whate’er they gain, to each man’s Portion fall,
And read it once, you read it through them all:
For this their Runners ramble day and night,
To drag each lurking Deed to open Light ”

“ And now the Torch of Truth is found,
It only shews us where we stray’d:
Light for ourselves, what is it worth
When we no more our Way can choose?
For others when we hold it forth,
They in their pride, the Boon refuse.
By long Experience taught, we now
Can rightly judge of Friends and Foes,
Can all the Worth of these allow,
And all their Faults discern in those;{213}
Relentless Hatred, erring Love,
We can for sacred Truth forego;
We can the warmest Friend reprove,
And bear to praise the fiercest Foe:
To what effect? our Friends are gone,
Beyond Reproof, Regard, or Care ”