Infancy, a Didactic Poem. Book I

Celestial Maid! from genuine Science sprung! Thee the pretended Sage, whose leaden eye Inwrapt in metaphysic gloom, ne'er deigns A cheerful smile, thee with contracted brow, And haughty gesture, all his vassals shun: While by the Graces drest Instruction owns Thy guiding hand. Celestial maid attend! Tho barren be the subject, o'er its' wilds So may a verdure not their own be shed, And blooming flowers. With me then turn thy sight On the prime Infant-state of helpless Man: On the first dawn of life, when Nature now Ushers her tender offspring into day; Observe the young ideas how they wake In gradual order, till at length matured By time, they speak a living soul within. View too the transient flash of mirth; the ills Not real, yet afflictive; the quick thought For ever varying, glanced from toy to toy. Then constant motion pleases, then the ear Catches at every sound, the eye untired Darts its wild ray, and every object thrills The new-born sense with joy. Come Virgin, teach How on the government of these first years Depends the future Man; no vulgar theme, No fruitless task, experiencing thy aid.

WE write to reason: Hence ye doating train Of Midwives and of Nurses ignorant! Old Beldames grey, in error positive, And stiff in prejudice, whose fatal care Oft death attends, or a life worse than death.

O YOUTH, whoe'er thou art, to beauty's charms A slave, to all that inexpressive grace Which native modesty and truth bestows On their more beauteous minds, and which exalts Britannia's Daughters o'er the female world! Is thy Beloved propitious? Doth the god Kindle his nuptial torch? And dost thou wish The name of Father, amiable, humane? To view thy little Progeny around Happy, well-formed, and strong? Attend the Muse: Th' instructive Muse shall teach thee to obtain Thy heart's desire. And say, wilt thou fair Nymph, Complacent heed with favourable eye The moral lay, refined and pure? To thee Custom hath given, while active life shall call Thy Husband forth amid its boist'rous walks, Domestic rule: Thine is the nursery's charge; Important trust! from him what absence hides, Thy constant anxious care shall well supply.

HEALTH is the greatest blessing Man receives From bounteous Heaven; by her the smiling hours Are wing'd with transport; she too gives the soul Of firmness; without her the hand of toil Would languid sink; the eye of reason fade. To this then bend thy care, O Parent Mind; Array thy Child in health; a nobler dress Not gorgeous Majesty can boast; the thanks Of future gratitude thou wilt receive, More than around him from thy treasured hoard Then showering sums profuse; or giving all Thy herds, and bleating flocks; tho thousands range Thy spacious meads, or cloath thy ample hills.

WOULD'ST thou thy children blest? The sacred voice Of Nature calls thee; where she points the way Tread confident. No labyrinth is here; No clue of Ariadne wilt thou need, To Theseus given; Fair is her open path, And strong the steady light she casts around, Instinctive light, the surest safest guide.

THY Child is born. See, where the treacherous nurse, Or Priestess of Lucina, in her hand The ready medicine brings! Forewarned, beware; Within the fatal drug lurks death; by this Thousands from yet untasted life retire, Thousands of infant souls; yet sanctified By custom, other reasons are assign'd And Nature is accused of impious deeds She ne'er committed. Nature will preserve Whate'er she frames: and what the Child requires In his new state, sagaciously provides, Both food and remedy: Before the sun Hath from his birth encircled half the sphere, He asks, plain as expressive signs can ask, The Mother's breast: Without a moment's pause Hear the mute voice of instinct and obey. Know the first efflux from the milky fount Is Nature's chymic mixture, which no power Of Art presumptuous can supply; this flows Gently detersive, purifying, bland; This each impediment o'ercomes, and gives The young, unfetter'd springs of life to play. Hence too the Mother is secure: The streams Her Infant's health promoting, flow to her Salubrious; otherwise confined, or urged Back to their source, what evils may she dread! Sickness, and giddy languor, shivering cold, And heat alternate, dire obstructions, pangs Of sharpest torture, cancers, by the juice Of boasted hemlock not to be removed.

O MOTHER, (let me by that tenderest name Conjure thee) still pursue the task begun; Nor unless urged by strong necessity, Some fated, some peculiar circumstance, By which thy health may suffer, or thy child Suck in disease, or that the genial food Too scanty flows, give to an Alien's care Thy orphan Babe. Oh! if by choice thou dost— What shall I call thee? Woman? No, tho fair Thy face, and deckt with unimagined charms, Tho sweetness seem pourtray'd in every line, And smiles which might become a Hebe, rise At will, crisping thy rosy cheeks, tho all That's lovely, kind, attractive, elegant, Dwell in thy outward shape, and catch the eye Of gazing rapture, all is but deceit; The form of Woman's thine, but not the soul. Had'st thou been treated thus, perchance the prey Of death long since, no child of thine had known An equal lot severe. O unblown Flower! Soft bud of Spring! Planted in foreign soil How wilt thou prosper! Brush'd by other winds In a new clime, and fed by other dews Than suit thy Nature! From a stranger hand Ah, what can Infancy expect, when she Whose essence was inwove with thine, whose life, Whose soul thou didst participate, neglects Herself in thee, and breaks the strongest seal Which Nature stamp'd in vain upon her heart.

O LUCKLESS Babe, born in an evil hour! Who shall thy numerous wants attend? explore The latent cause of ill? thy slumbers guard? And when awake, with nice sedulity Thy every glance observe? A parent might; A Hireling cannot; tho of blameless mind, Tho conscious duty prompt her to the task, She feels not in her breast th' impulsive goad Of instinct, all the fond, the fearful thoughts Awakening: Say, at length that habit's power Can something like maternal kindness give, Yet, ere that time, may the poor nursling die.

BESIDES, who can assure the lacteal springs Clear, and untained? Oft disorder lurks Beneath the vivid bloom, and cheerful eye, Promising health; and poisonous juice secrete, Slow undermining life, stains what should be The purest nutriment. Hence, worse than death, Long years of misery to thy blasted child. A burthen to himself, by others shunn'd, He wishes for the grave, and wastes his days In solitary woe; or haply weds, And propagates th' hereditary plague; Entailing on his name the bitter curse Of generations yet unborn, a race Pithless, and weak, of faded texture, wan; Like some declining plant, with mildew'd leaves, Whose root a treacherous insect gnaws unseen.

BUT, whether lost in pleasure, in the round Of modish life, and dissipation gay, Misnamed polite, the welfare of her child The fair Barbarian looks on with an eye Distant, and cold; or imitating her, As faults of higher station always gain Partial abettors, the neglected muse Hath to the parent in life's middle rank Tuned her unfructuous lay; she shall not cease Desponding, weightier arguments for them, More strenuous, more coercive she can bring, To which perhaps self-interested love Will ope their listening sense. Of mental joys And pure delight, they would not understand, Or relish the description. But if health They covet, nor before the genial prime Wish the stern Fates to cut their vital thread, Those hearts may prove susceptible of fear, Which instinct, love, and duty could despise. Nor seek We fabled incidents, to strike With superstitious dread the mind, but truth, Plain, honest truth, inspires the homely song.

SHE who refuses to her Young One's lip Her swelling bosom, each returning year Conceives, and each returning year sustains The pangs of child-birth. Harass'd by fatigue, The strongest constitution droops; but soon The weaker system, like a blighted flower, Falls underneath the shock. The nursing time Was meant by wisest Nature, as a stay, A vacant interspace, in which the nerves, And threads of life unstrung, might re-assume Their native tone, endued again with strength, And corresponding freedom, to support The day of toil: As a sure medicine, To root out many an illness, else untamed, From the soft female frame: T'invigorate The fragile texture, and with grateful force Astringe the fibres, morbid and relax'd. But if not e'en these motives can persuade; T' improve her charms, new beauties to possess, Is Woman's utmost wish. View then the Fair, Who to this sweet employment turns her mind! Delighted Health sits on her polish'd brow, And shews the veins beneath? Spreads o'er her cheek The vermil glow; her eyes with lustre fills; Decks her with radiant smiles, and all her form With grace ineffable, and comeliness Invests. Enough of these—The Muse beholds With rapture some of other kind—Oh! hail Ye real Mothers! Ye whose hearts are full Of sensibility! Who highly pleased, Would not, for all the gewgaws Pride can boast, Loosen the magic knot, which joins in one Your Babes and you; or see a Hireling share The love, which to a Mother sole belongs. O Thou, to whom, one of this pious train, I with esteem and veneration bend! Lead on with decent step, uncheck'd by fear, To those domestic haunts, where peace expands Her wings, and Harmony delighted dwells. Let me behold thee, rivet thy fix'd eye On the young infant Form, then press it close, Glose to thy throbbing heart, then on it's lips A thousand kisses print, thy eyes with joy O'erslowing, in each feature nicely scann'd Tracing the dear resemblance of it's fire. And lo! where pleased, beyond expression pleased, To see thee in the sweetest task employ'd Of female duty, where thy Husband hangs Enamour'd o'er thy bosom! not the night Which gave thee to his arms, bestow'd a joy To this superior; thrilling to the mind, Sincere, and home-felt. O true name of love, Tender Affection! Genuine Source of bliss Immaculate, and pure! The transient blaze Of passion soon subsides, thy steadier fire Time but increases! Soft coercive band, Connecting souls! Without thee, what is life! Mild Halcyon of the breast, whose summer wing Calms every raging storm! To thee the wise, The good still offer incense; all who bear No sordid stains; nor any but the dull, Or grovelling, in her parsimonious mood By nature form'd, or whom with iron hand Tyrannic Custom rules, despise thy sway.

THRICE happy She, by inclination led, By nought with-held, to add this pleasing link, This heart-endearing bond, to the sweet ties Of married love! But should'st thou e'er be doom'd Votaress of truth and virtue, to resist Th' attractive warmth by their eternal hands Implanted; to resist the liberal call Of duty and desire; condemned by ails From causes unforeseen to tear the Pledge From thy fond bosom; while thy sickening heart Bleeds at the thought, condemn'd another's care T' invoke for him, the Babe, thy straining eyes Gaze on with nameless pleasure: Let my lay Direct thy choice for the momentous task Whom to retain, what Parent to adopt For thy unconscious young one; for from her Not only nutriment perhaps he takes, To life and growth subservient, but who knows How far the stamina yet unevolved, How far the soul herself as yet unformed, For texture, vigour, passions, intellect, On this thy act depend? Far from the bounds Of the rank city, let some trusty Friend Explore the straw-rooft cott; there, firm of nerve Her blood from every grosser particle, By hardy labour, and abstemious Fare, Sublimed; the honest peasant's mate shall ope Her hospitable arms, receive with joy The infant Stranger, and profusely yield Her pure balsamic nurture to his lip. But since the keenest eye may be deceived, And vice will lurk amid the country haunts To innocence devoted, it were meet T' investigate among the village Tribe Their Neighbour's mode of life. Heeds she the laws Of matron-like sobriety? Her fame, Is it from all suspicion clear? Her soul, To wedlock true? Feels she a Parent's love? To her own Offspring tenderly benign? Does she her husband's constant heart possess? Nor seeks he foreign pleasure? Every doubt Extinguish'd here; still curiously persist, Nor terminate thy search; examine round Her little mansion, see if there, in spite Of poverty, the step of cleanliness, Attractive Nymph, unhesitating treads. Her age too claims thy notice; let not time On restless wing have stolen from her face The bloom -of youth, nor be she green in years. For torpid, or impaired by frequent use, The flexile vessels which convolved in maze Wrapp'd within maze, secrete the purer stream, Their office will more sparingly perform, Or less nutritious particles supply. And if thy nurse be young, the thoughtful mind Of prudence, would not to her charge confide What claims exactest assiduity, And serious vigilance. There are who think Too subtile in their theory, the Nurse Should with the Mother aptly coincide In age and temperament; but heeding well The precepts we have given, thou may'st neglect Such trivial niceness; Health from each extreme Removed, is not to colour of the hair, Or to complexion tinged with red or brown Consined: Excess thou should'st indeed avoid Of plump or lean, nor would I choose th' adust And highly bilious, or the sable hue Of clouded melancholy. Be it then Thy primal care to fix on vigorous health Adorn'd with smiles, the lovely progeny Of constant cheerfulness, and sweet content. Nor would I (tho confest a quality Inferior in it's kind) not prize the voice From harshness free, whose soft tone can compose The froward Babe, or gently bid it wake, And view the young-eyed morn. O thou, who help'st To throng the crowded Town, restrain'd by force Within that court of death, where every gale Is tainted with pollution; did the Muse If some sad cause forbade thee to pursue The Mother's genuine office, to the fields Serene, and rural Lares order forth Thy tender Infant? not from needless fears And vain precaution, did she dare to thwart The dictates of humanity. She sees, What do not to thy eye perhaps appear, The dreadful train of ills, which swarm within Th' unhallow'd precincts. Well she knows how few Out of the many myriads city-born Survive, in just proportion scann'd with those Who bask in freer day. Yet, much avails A Parent's unabating love, and sharp Is absence to the soul. But can'st thou purge Th' unwholesome atmosphere, gravid with seeds Of latent sickness? Suffocation fell, Angina, Apthous Sores, Eruptions dire, Pertussis sierce, and squalid Atrophy? Say, can'st thou bid the flagging South speed by, Nor stagnant, o'er his much-loved mansion brood With darkening plume, of poison and of death Prolific? When each danger I review, Shudd'ring with fear, I scarce would bid thee prove The Nurse's task, tho nought should intervene Of fatal accident, and thou art bound By every tie of nature to the deed. For can'st thou round thy Infant's brow entwine A magic wreath? Or cause an Angel lift His shielding arm? Thou can'st not: Follow then The precepts of experience; yet let oft Maternal fondness guide thee to the place Where rests the little sojourner, there view How cherish'd, how improved, and lingering chide The rapid step of still-progressive time, Which hurries thee reluctantly away.

BUT can the Mother change unblamed the town, For some sequester'd villa? What denies, Her bed of sickness quitted, to retreat And seek the haunts, where Peace on flowers reclined Lists to the warbling songster of the grove? Or from the gently-rising hill surveys The grazing herds, and rivulet which winds Meand'ring thro the distant vale? Where Health Sports on the level green, and young delight Smiling attends: Where bounteous Nature sheds Her choicest blessings, and with guardian wing Protects her favourite progeny. Retire, My fair Disciple, haste to scenes like these, And underneath thy roof invite to dwell The Fosterer of thy child. Despise, with me, Th' insipid train of vanity and pride; The foppery of custom; quaint parade Of ceremonial visit; idle farce Of masquerade, or ball, where real joy Ne'er entered; conversations gayly dull, Unblest by exiled friendship; glare of courts; And mummery of the Great. Be't thine to walk With Reason, and enjoy th' harmonious voice Of conscious Rectitude, whose soothing strain Can lift the soul beyond what vulgar thought Can distantly imagine. If thou must Require another's aid thy place to fill, Her conduct thou direct, and regulate The manner of her life, a pleasure this Inferior, yet affording ample room To gratify the smer nerve of love. To see thy Substitute at stated times The life-sustaining food supply, to mark How thrives her young Dependent, and each day Appears addition manifest to gain In size and stature, while his eyes beam forth, At least to Fancy's peering search, the dawn Of future reason, and intelligence.

HERE, as in all things, Nature opens wide Her page instructive. Did'st thou not behold How in her homely dwelling, Health imbued With reseate tint the cheeks, and firmly strung The muscles of her elder boy thy Nurse Hath left behind? She was not surfeited With dainty cates, and high luxurious fare When him she suckled; never did a draught Stronger than water pass her thirsty lip; Pernicious ale she knew not. When released From short confinement, to her various wants No Friend, no Servant minister'd; her Babe She fill'd, then gave up to the soft embrace Of sleep; meanwhile no sedentary life She led, she spun the woof, in order meet She set her cott, the viands she prepared, With which at even-tide to welcome home The Husband whom she loved: Or in her arms Bearing her grateful burthen, out she hied, Braving the summer's heat, or winter's cold, And as she walk'd, caroll'd th' incondite lay Of rustic merriment. Seek not to change Her usual regimen, for if thou dost, Should she escape the fever which impends, Expect thy Child, attack'd by cholic pangs, To writhe in torture, or perhaps at once Convulsions sierce shall snatch him from the world. For now her stomach, which from diet hard, By habit's force, and potent exercise Elaborated chyle of blandest sort, Oppress'd by crudities, corrupts the blood With viscid recrement. Or else the Brain, That source of motion, urged by sympathy, Creates new impulses of morbid kind The vital threads affecting, and from thence Th' elastic arteries, and ruddy stream Within their coats contain'd, the different glands Their various store secreting, nor escapes Among the rest the lacteal tide, the food, By nature, of thy Child, but now his bane.

O HABIT! Powerful Ruler of Mankind! Great Principle of action! Reconciled By thee to every clime, the human Race O'erspread this globe; around the frozen pole Scorn the stern brow of Winter, nor beneath Th' equator's torrid influence, dread the shafts Of vengeful Phoebus; thou presidest well-pleased Over th' innocuous vegetable meal, Which on the banks of Ganges, or of Ind, Satiates the temperate Bramin. Thou can'st tame To wholesome nourishment the sanguine feast Of th' ever-roving Scythian. To thy laws We subjugate the willing neck, profest Thy vassals; nor the mental faculties Dost thou not sway; by thee inwrapt in maze Of subtle politics, the Statesman plans His fraudful schemes unceasing. Thou sustain'st The Sage who labours for the public good With patriot care, though oftentimes assail'd By black ingratitude. The midnight lamp Of meditation, trimm'd by thee, reveals To keen Philosophy Truth's awful face, And all his toil is pleasure. Led by thee, The Bard retreats from Vice's noisy reign, And in the secret grot with Fancy holds Delicious converse, while her hand withdraws The veil from Memory's ideal store, And all th' associated tribe of thought Displays before his view. Still may I bend Before thy shrine, O Habit, when thy rules With Nature's disagree not, (neither then May we unpunish'd break them,) else in vain Shalt thou attempt to fasten round my heart; For know, that Reason, and her Sister Form, Fair Virtue, can untwist thy magic cords, And to their will, tho not annihilate, Can all thy laws attemper and refine.