And doth not he, the pious man, appear, And, skill'd at whist, devotes the night to No more, O Death! thy victim starts to hear come, Sedately torpid and devoutly dumb; For he was one in all their idle sport, Then, while such honours bloom around his Him now they follow to his grave, and stand head, Shall he sit sadly by the sick man's bed, Silent and sad, and gazing, hand in hand; The busy priest, detain'd by weightier care, BOOK II between ; There are found, amid the Evils of a laborious | Such as you find on yonder sportive Green, Life, some Views of Tranquillity and Happi- The 'squire's tall gate and churchway-walk ness-The Repose and Pleasure of a Summer Sabbath: interrupted by Intoxication and Dispute Village Detraction-Complaints of the 'Squire The Evening Riots -Justice-Reasons for this unpleasant View of Rustic Life: the Effect it should have upon the Lower Classes; and the Higher These last have their peculiar Distresses: Exemplified in the Life and heroic Death of Lord Robert MannersConcluding Address to His Grace the Duke of Rutland. Where loitering stray a little tribe of friends, No longer truth, though shown in verse, While some, whose hopes to no renown extend, disdain, But own the Village Life a life of pain: Are only pleased to find their labours end. Thus, as their hours glide on, with pleasure fraught, Their careful masters brood the painfu thought; Much in their mind they murmur and lament, That one fair day should be so idly spent; And think that Heaven deals hard, to tithe their store And tax their time for preachers and the poor. Yet still, ye humbler friends, enjoy your hour, This is your portion, yet unclaim'd of power; Yet here disguise, the city's vice, is seen, In sentiment and song content to reign. Nor are the nymphs that breathe the rural air So fair as Cynthia's, nor so chaste as fair: These to the town afford each fresher face, And the clown's trull receives the peer's embrace; From whom, should chance again convey her down, The peer's disease in turn attacks the clown. Here too the 'squires, or 'squire-like farmers, talk, How round their regions nightly pilferers walk; How from their ponds the fish are borne, and all The rip'ning treasures from their lofty wall; How meaner rivals in their sports delight, Just rich enough to claim a doubtful right; Who take a licence round their fields to stray, A mongrel race! the poachers of the day. And hark! the riots of the Green begin, That sprang at first from yonder noisy inn; Why make the poor as guilty as the great? To show the great, those mightier sons of pride, How near in vice the lowest are allied; Such are their natures and their passions such, But these disguise too little, those too much: And you, ye poor, who still lament your fate, Forbear to envy those you call the great; And know, amid those blessings they possess, They are, like you, the victims of distress; While sloth with many a pang torments her slave, In future times, when smit with Glory's charms, Fear waits on guilt, and danger shakes the The untried youth first quits a father's brave. Oh! if in life one noble chief appears, Great in his name, while blooming in his years; Born to enjoy whate'er delights mankind, And yet to all you feel or fear resign'd; Who gave up joys and hopes to you unknown, For pains and dangers greater than your own: If such there be, then let your murmurs cease, Think, think of him, and take your lot in peace. And such there was :-Oh! grief, that checks our pride, Weeping we say there was,-for Manners died: 3 Beloved of Heaven, thesehumble lines forgive, An ample shade and brave the wildest storm, Yet then it lies, all wond'rous as before, Less by thy father's glory than thy own; When Honour loved and gave thee every charm, Fire to thy eye and vigour to thy arm; Then from our lofty hopes and longing eyes, Fate and thy virtues call'd thee to the skies; Yet still we wonder at thy tow'ring fame, And losing thee, still dwell upon thy name. Oh! ever honour'd, ever valued! say, What verse can praise thee, or what work repay ? Yet verse (in all we can) thy worth repays, Nor trusts the tardy zeal of future days; Honours for thee thy country shall prepare, Thee in their hearts, the good, the brave shall bear; To deeds like thine shall noblest chiefs aspire, The Muse shall mourn thee, and the world admire. arms; 'Oh! be like him,' the weeping sire shall say; 'Like Manners walk, who walk'd in Honour's way; In danger foremost, yet in death sedate, If for that fate such public tears be shed, That Victory seems to die now THOU art dead; How shall a friend his nearer hope resign, That friend a brother, and whose soul was thine ? By what bold lines shall we his grief express, Or by what soothing numbers make it less? 'Tis not, I know the chiming of a song, Nor all the powers that to the Muse belong, Words aptly cull'd and meanings well express'd, Can calm the sorrows of a wounded breast; But Virtue, soother of the fiercest pains, Shall heal that bosom, Rutland, where she reigns. Yet hard the task to heal the bleeding Life is not measured by the time we live : 'Tis not an even course of threescore years, A life of narrow views and paltry fears, Gray hairs and wrinkles and the cares they bring, That take from death the terrors or the sting; But 'tis the gen'rous spirit, mounting high Above the world, that native of the sky; The noble spirit, that, in dangers brave, Calmly looks on, or looks beyond the grave:Such Manners was, so he resign'd his breath, If in a glorious, then a timely death. Cease then that grief and let those tears subside; If Passion rule us, be that passion pride; If Reason, Reason bids us strive to raise When Admiration claims so large a part? See other heroes die as Manners died: And from their fate, thy race shall nobler grow, As trees shoot upwards that are pruned below; Or as old Thames, borne down with decent pride, Sees his young streams run warbling at his side; Though some, by art cut off, no longer run, And some are lost beneath the summer's sun Yet the pure stream moves on, and, as it moves, Its power increases and its use improves ; While plenty round its spacious waves bestow, Still it flows on, and shall for ever flow. Note 1, page 36, lines 60 and 61. And, when his age attempts its task in vain, With ruthless taunts, of lazy poor complain. A pauper who, being nearly past his labour, is employed by different masters for a length of time, proportioned to their occupations. Note 2, page 38, lines 44 and 45 And, waiting long, the crowd retire distress'd, To think a poor man's bones should lie unbless'd. Some apology is due for the insertion of a circumstance by no means common: that it has been a subject for complaint in any place is a sufficient reason for its being reckoned among the evils which may happen to the poor, and which must happen to them exclusively; nevertheless, it is just to remark that such neglect is very rare in any part of the kingdom, and in many parts is totally unknown. Note 3, page 40, lines 13 and 14. Beloved of Heaven, these humble lines forgive, That sing of Thee, and thus aspire to live. Lord Robert Manners, the youngest son of the Marquis of Granby and the Lady Frances Seymour, daughter of Charles Duke of Somerset, was born the 5th of February, 1758; and was placed with his brother, the late Duke of Rutland, at Eton school, where he acquired, and ever after retained, a considerable knowledge of the classical authors. Lord Robert, after going through the duties of his profession on board different ships, was made captain of the Resolution, and commanded her in nine different actions, besides the last memorable one on the 2nd of April, 1782, when, in breaking the French line of battle, he received the wounds which terminated his life, in the twenty-fourth year of his age.-See the Annual Register, printed for Mr. Dodsley. MY LORD, THE NEWSPAPER [1785] TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE EDWARD LORD THURLOW, LORD HIGH CHANCELLOR OF GREAT BRITAIN; ONE OF HIS MAJESTY'S MOST HONOURABLE PRIVY COUNCIL, ETC. ETC. My obligations to your Lordship, great as they are, have not induced me to prefix your name to the following poem: nor is it your Lordship's station, exalted as that is, which prevailed upon me to solicit the honour of your protection for it. But, when I considered your Lordship's great abilities and good taste, so well known and so universally acknowledged, I became anxious for the privilege with which you have indulged me; well knowing that the Public would not be easily persuaded to disregard a performance, marked, in any degree, with your Lordship's approbation. It is, my Lord, the province of superior rank, in general, to bestow this kind of patronage; but superior talents only can render it valuable. Of the value of your Lordship's I am fully sensible; and, while I make my acknowledgments for that, and for many other favours, I cannot suppress the pride I have in thus publishing my gratitude, and declaring how much I have the honour to be, MY LORD, Your Lordship's most obedient, Belvoir Castle, February 20, 1785. TO THE READER THE Poem which I now offer to the public, is, I believe, the only one written on the subject; at least, it is the only one which I have any knowledge of: and, fearing there may not be found in it many things to engage the Reader's attention, I am willing to take the strongest hold I can upon him, by offering something which has the claim of novelty. When the subject first occurred to me, I meant, in a few lines only, to give some description of that variety of dissociating articles which are huddled together in our Daily Papers. As the thought dwelt upon me, I conceived this might be done methodi cally, and with some connection of parts, by taking a larger scope; which notwithstanding I have done, I must still apologise for a want of union and coherence in my poem. Subjects like this will not easily admit of them: we cannot slide from theme to theme in an easy and graceful succession; but, on quitting one thought, there will be an unavoidable hiatus, and in general an awkward transition into that which follows. That, in writing upon the subject of our Newspapers, I have avoided every thing which might appear like the opinion of a party, is to be accounted for from the knowledge I have |