William Cowper- Collected Poetical Works
Page 37
See great commanders making war a trade,
Great lawyers, lawyers without study made;
Churchmen, in whose esteem their best employ
Is odious, and their wages all their joy,
Who, far enough from furnishing their shelves
With Gospel lore, turn infidels themselves;
See womanhood despised, and manhood shamed
With infamy too nauseous to be named,
Fops at all corners, ladylike in mien,
Civeted fellows, smelt ere they are seen,
Else coarse and rude in manners, and their tongue
On fire with curses, and with nonsense hung,
Now flush’d with drunkenness, now with bunnydom pale,
Their breath a sample of last night’s regale;
See volunteers in all the vilest arts,
Men well endow’d, of honourable parts,
Design’d by Nature wise, but self-made fools;
All these, and more like these, were bred at schools.
And if it chance, as sometimes chance it will,
That though school-bred the boy be virtuous still;
Such rare exceptions, shining in the dark,
Prove, rather than impeach, the just remark:
As here and there a twinkling star descried
Serves but to show how black is all beside.
Now look on him, whose very voice in tone
Just echoes thine, whose features are thine own,
And stroke his polish’d cheek of purest red,
And lay thine hand upon his flaxen head,
And say, My boy, the unwelcome hour is come,
When thou, transplanted from thy genial home,
Must find a colder soil and bleaker air,
And trust for safety to a stranger’s care;
What character, what turn thou wilt assume
From constant converse with I know not whom;
Who there will court thy friendship, with what views,
And, artless as thou art, whom thou wilt choose;
Though much depends on what thy choice shall be,
Is all chance-medley, and unknown to me.
Canst thou, the tear just trembling on thy lids,
And while the dreadful risk foreseen forbids;
Free too, and under no constraining force,
Unless the sway of custom warp thy course;
Lay such a stake upon the losing side,
Merely to gratify so blind a guide?
Thou canst not! Nature, pulling at thine heart,
Condemns the unfatherly, the imprudent part.
Though wouldst not, deaf to Nature’s tenderest plea,
Turn him adrift upon a rolling sea,
Nor say, Go thither, conscious that there lay
A brood of asps, or quicksands in his way;
Then, only govern’d by the self-same rule
Of natural pity, send him not to school.
No — guard him better. Is he not thine own,
Thyself in miniature, thy flesh, thy bone?
And hopest thou not (’tis every father’s hope)
That, since thy strength must with thy years elope,
And thou wilt need some comfort to assuage
Health’s last farewell, a staff of thine old age,
That then, in recompence of all thy cares,
Thy child shall show respect to thy grey hairs,
Befriend thee, of all other friends bereft,
And give thy life its only cordial left?
Aware then how much danger intervenes,
To compass that good end, forecast the means.
His heart, now passive, yields to thy command;
Secure it thine, its key is in thine hand;
If thou desert thy charge, and throw it wide,
Nor heed what guests there enter and abide,
Complain not if attachments lewd and base
Supplant thee in it and usurp thy place.
But, if thou guard its sacred chambers sure
From vicious inmates and delights impure,
Either his gratitude shall hold him fast,
And keep him warm and filial to the last;
Or, if he prove unkind (as who can say
But, being man, and therefore frail, he may?),
One comfort yet shall cheer thine aged heart,
Howe’er he slight thee, thou hast done thy part.
Oh, barbarous! wouldst thou with a Gothic hand
Pull down the schools — what! — all the schools i’ th’ land;
Or throw them up to livery-nags and grooms,
Or turn them into shops and auction-rooms?
A captious question, sir (and yours is one),
Deserves an answer similar, or none.
Wouldst thou, possessor of a flock, employ
(Apprised that he is such) a careless boy,
And feed him well, and give him handsome pay,
Merely to sleep, and let them run astray?
Survey our schools and colleges, and see
A sight not much unlike my simile.
From education, as the leading cause,
The public character its colour draws;
Thence the prevailing manners take their cast,
Extravagant or sober, loose or chaste.
And though I would not advertise them yet,
Nor write on each — This Building to be Let ,
Unless the world were all prepared to embrace
A plan well worthy to supply their place;
Yet, backward as they are, and long have been,
To cultivate and keep the morals clean
(Forgive the crime), I wish them, I confess,
Or better managed, or encouraged less.
THE DIVERTING HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN, SHOWING HOW HE WENT FARTHER THAN HE INTENDED, AND CAME SAFE HOME AGAIN
[Written Oct., 1782. Published anonymously in The Public Advertiser, Nov. 14,1782; afterwards in 1785. The manuscript copy in the British Museum is obviously an early version, before Cowper had finally revised the poem for publication among his Poems: the variant readings taken from it are given in the notes at the end of the volume.]
JOHN GILPIN was a citizen
Of credit and renown,
A train-band captain eke was he
Of famous London town.
John Gilpin’s spouse said to her dear, 5
‘Though wedded we have been
These twice ten tedious years, yet we
No holiday have seen.
‘To-morrow is our wedding-day,
And we will then repair 10
Unto the Bell at Edmonton,
All in a chaise and pair.
‘My sister, and my sister’s child,
Myself, and children three,
Will fill the chaise; so you must ride 15
On horseback after we.’
He soon replied, ‘I do admire
Of womankind but one,
And you are she, my dearest dear,
Therefore it shall be done. 20
‘I am a linen-draper bold,
As all the world doth know,
And my good friend the calender
Will lend his horse to go.’
Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, ‘That’s well said; 25
And for that wine is dear,
We will be furnished with our own,
Which is both bright and clear.’
John Gilpin kissed his loving wife;
O’erjoyed was he to find, 30
That though on pleasure she was bent,
She had a frugal mind.
The morning came, the chaise was brought,
But yet was not allowed
To drive up to the door, lest all 35
Should say that she was proud.
So three doors off the chaise was stayed,
Where they did all get in;
Six precious souls, and all agog
To dash through thick and thin. 40
&n
bsp; Smack went the whip, round went the wheels,
Were never folk so glad,
The stones did rattle underneath,
As if Cheapside were mad.
John Gilpin at his horse’s side 45
Seized fast the flowing mane,
And up he got, in haste to ride,
But soon came down again;
For saddle-tree scarce reached had be,
His journey to begin, 50
When, turning round his head, he saw
Three customers come in.
So down he came; for loss of time,
Although it grieved him sore,
Yet loss of pence, full well he knew, 55
Would trouble him much more.
’Twas long before the customers
Were suited to their mind,
When Betty screaming came down stairs,
‘The wine is left behind!’ 60
‘Good lack,’ quoth he— ‘yet bring it me,
My leathern belt likewise,
In which I bear my trusty sword,
When I do exercise.’
Now Mistress Gilpin (careful soul!) 65
Had two stone bottles found,
To hold the liquor that she loved,
And keep it safe and sound.
Each bottle had a curling ear,
Through which the belt he drew, 70
And hung a bottle on each side,
To make his balance true.
Then over all, that he might be
Equipped from top to toe,
His long red cloak, well brushed and neat; 75
He manfully did throw.
Now see him mounted once again
Upon his nimble steed,
Full slowly pacing o’er the stones,
With caution and good heed. 80
But finding soon a smoother road
Beneath his well-shod feet,
The snorting beast began to trot,
Which galled him in his seat.
So, ‘Fair and softly,’ John he cried, 85
But John he called in vain;
That trot became a gallop soon,
In spite of curb and rein.
So stooping down as needs he must
Who cannot sit upright, 90
He grasped the mane with both his hands,
And eke with all his might.
His horse, who never in that sort
Had handled been before,
What thing upon his back had got 95
Did wonder more and more.
Away went Gilpin, neck or nought;
Away went hat and wig;
He little dreamt, when he set out,
Of running such a rig. 100
The wind did blow, the cloak did fly,
Like streamer long and gay,
Till, loop and button failing both,
At last it flew away.
Then might all people well discern 105
The bottles he had slung;
A bottle swinging at each side.
As hath been said or sung.
The dogs did bark, the children screamed,
Up flew the windows all; 110
And every soul cried out, ‘Well done!’
As loud as he could bawl.
Away went Gilpin — who but he?
His fame soon spread around;
‘He carries weight! He rides a race!’ 115
‘’Tis for a thousand pound!’
And still, as fast as he drew near,
’Twas wonderful to view,
How in a trice the turnpike-men
Their gates wide open threw. 120
And now, as he went bowing down
His reeking head full low,
The bottles twain behind his back
Were shattered at a blow.
Down ran the wine into the road, 125
Most piteous to be seen,
Which made his horse’s flanks to smoke
As they had basted been.
But still he seemed to carry weight,
With leathern girdle braced; 130
For all might see the bottle-necks
Still dangling at his waist.
Thus all through merry Islington
These gambols he did play,
Until he came unto the Wash 135
Of Edmonton so gay;
And there he threw the Wash about
On both sides of the way,
Just like unto a trundling mop,
Or a wild goose at play. 140
At Edmonton his loving wife
From the balcony spied
Her tender husband, wondering much
To see how he did ride.
‘Stop, stop, John Gilpin! — Here’s the house!’ 145
They all at once did cry;
‘The dinner waits, and we are tired;’ —
Said Gilpin— ‘So am I!’
But yet his horse was not a whit
Inclined to tarry there! 150
For why? — his owner had a house
Full ten miles off at Ware.
So like an arrow swift he flew,
Shot by an archer strong;
So did he fly — which brings me to 155
The middle of my song.
Away went Gilpin, out of breath,
And sore against his will,
Till at his friend the calender’s
His horse at last stood still. 160
The calender, amazed to see
His neighbour in such trim,
Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate,
And thus accosted him:
‘What news? what news? your tidings tell; 165
Tell me you must and shall —
Say why bareheaded you are come,
Or why you come at all?’
Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit,
And loved a timely joke; 170
And thus unto the calender
In merry guise he spoke:
‘I came because your horse would come,
And, if I well forebode,
My hat and wig will soon be here, — 175
They are upon the road.’
The calender, right glad to find
His friend in merry pin,
Returned him not a single word,
But to the house went in; 180
Whence straight he came with hat and wig;
A wig that flowed behind,
A hat not much the worse for wear,
Each comely in its kind.
He held them up, and in his turn 185
Thus showed his ready wit,
‘My head is twice as big as yours,
They therefore needs must fit.
‘But let me scrape the dirt away
That hangs upon your face; 190
And stop and eat, for well you may
Be in a hungry case.’
Said John, ‘It is my wedding day,
And all the world would stare,
If wife should dine at Edmonton, 195
And I should dine at Ware.’
So turning to his horse, he said,
‘I am in haste to dine;
’Twas for your pleasure you came here,
You shall go back for mine.’ 200
Ah, luckless speech, and bootless boast!
For which he paid full dear;
For, while he spake, a braying ass
Did sing most loud and clear;
Whereat his horse did snort, as he 205
Had heard a lion roar,
And galloped off with all his might,
As he had done before.
Away went Gilpin, and away
Went Gilpin’s hat and wig; 210
He lost them sooner than at first;
For why? — they were too big.
Now Mistress Gilpin, when she saw
Her husband posting down
Into the country far away, 215
She pulled out half a crown;
And thus unto the youth she said
That drove them to the Bell,
‘This shall be yours, when you bring back
My husband safe and well.’ 220
The youth did ride, and soon did meet
John coming back again:
Whom in a trice he tried to stop,
By catching at his rein;
But not performing what he meant, 225
And gladly would have done,
The frighted steed he frighted more,
And made him faster run.
Away went Gilpin, and away
Went postboy at his heels, 230
The postboy’s horse right glad to miss
The lumbering of the wheels.
Six gentlemen upon the road,
Thus seeing Gilpin fly,
With postboy scampering in the rear, 235
They raised the hue and cry:
‘Stop thief! stop thief! — a highwayman!’
Not one of them was mute;
And all and each that passed that way
Did join in the pursuit. 240
And now the turnpike gates again
Flew open in short space;
The toll-men thinking, as before,
That Gilpin rode a race.
And so he did, and won it too, 245
For he got first to town;
Nor stopped till where he had got up
He did again get down.
Now let us sing, Long live the King!
And Gilpin, long live he! 250
And when he next doth ride abroad
May I be there to see!
Miscellaneous Poems
CONTENTS
VERSES WRITTEN AT BATH ON FINDING THE HEEL OF A SHOE
PSALM CXXXVII
SONG: NO MORE SHALL HAPLESS CELIA’S EARS
A SONG: ON THE GREEN MARGIN OF THE BROOK
AN EPISTLE TO ROBERT LLOYD, ESQ.
MORTALS! AROUND YOUR DESTIN’D HEADS
OF HIMSELF
THE SYMPTOMS OF LOVE
AN APOLOGY FOR NOT SHOWING HER WHAT I HAD WROTE