Infancy, a Didactic Poem. Book IV

Sweet is the breath of Fame, and o'er the soul Of Youth, on Fancy's pinions wasted back, The daring Visitor of times unknown, And future ages, like a spicy breeze Steals her delicious fragrance; like a breeze From Zeylon or Sumatra, which enchants The Sailors heart, tho night involves the coast, And hides it's lovely foliage from his view: While in his mind He sees the blooming groves, And haply thinks them fairer than they are.

SWEET o'er my bosom stole the breath of Fame In early life, on Fancy's pinions borne; Th' ideal prospects rose supremely fair, And in extatic vision I beheld Perennial bays distinguishing my tomb. For not unuseful, or of light import The strains I sung. And though mid glades obscure Dwelt the sequester'd Muse, from riot far, From pomp imperious, and the lordly board Begirt with servile slatterers, yet her breast By human kindness sway'd, where'er had pierced The British language, manners, arts, and arms, Revered the Good; and base-born Envy dead, Or vanquisht, or engaged with living worth, Exulted in th' esteem of times to come, And Virtue's mutual friendship unreserved. In distant Continents, where horrid War Now stains with Brother's blood the guilty soil, In distant Islands, mid their nodding palms, And growing sweets, her eyes survey'd with joy The willing Parent bending o'er her lay.

DEAR to the youthful mind, ye Prospects hail! Ye Visions wide-removed! for deep Ye thrill'd, Fixing, as real, all your traces there. And, if illusive all, yet riper Age Can scarce believe the flattering scenes untrue, Or cease the vivid colours to behold Bright glowing thro the shadowy lapse of years.

MEANWHILE, O CODRINGTON! whose generous heart Blames not the tenor of my partial song; By whom uncensured flows the self-applause. Whose temper, mild as an autumnal sky, No cloud obscures; with feelings warm, yet ruled By cautious judgment, in whose breast resides Friendship's pure Heaven-descended flame; alive To all a Parent's fondest love; yet both Under superior reason's nice controul Directed to their truest end and use! For thee, and such as thee, an audience small, In space and number circumscribed, by wealth, By rank and titles undebased, again I venture the Pierian spring to seek, And tread on sacred ground. How difficult Where, thro the laurel groves, and myrtle shades, The verdant alleys, lawns, and rising slopes, Thick strewn with flowers of every various hue, Of every various season, Elegance, Coy Nymph, unsated wanders, on each scene With curious eye commenting, from the sweets, The never-fading blooms, each virid arch, Selecting meetest garlands, to suspend Upon the tree of Taste, most eminent In the poetic region, underneath Whose fragrant shelter, Phoebus and the Nine In chorus met, attune their happier strains Of rarest harmony: How difficult, By Health and Youth attended, to pursue The bashful Maid, attract her favouring eye, And wooe Her to bestow a single wreathe!

CAN I then hope, whom sickness long hath drench'd In her Lethaean dews, with feeble limbs, And wan complection, from her hands to bear Those gifts, which unpossesst, my lays must creep Dully monotonous, nor touch the heart, Nor win th' approving mind? Yet, witness Thou! Witness my Friend! Who know'st the human frame, Each drug of cordial, each of healing power, To me in vain administer'd, what toil I must experience now, the Nymph to trace Through her meand'ring walks! what partial chance Should she my languid homage not disdain!

YET, thy inciting voice; the conscious thought Sprung from the love of kind, which tells Me, all Will not be frustrate, nor the darling wish Of public good be wholly unfulfill'd; Some loitering sparks of that once brighter flame My soul enkindling, prompt me to a task Long interrupted: Where in slumbers deep It rests, t' awaken the Didactic Lyre; With it's more solemn notes to mingle tones (So they to memory fail not to recur) Oft heard of yore, as t' ward the lucid fount I stole, not unforbidden; tones which please Heighten'd the more by contrast, and engage Amusive the charm'd ear, till it imbibe Instruction with delight, till melody Not the chief object seem, it's liquid voice Yielding to reason's energy divine.

OF Cloathing now, of Heat, and Cold We sing, Unanimating themes; but which require Th' attention of the Bard, as not of use Inferior to the subjects which erewhile He strove t' adorn; nor claiming notice less From the true bosom of Parental Love.

STILL heed We Nature, and her guiding steps Pursue; nor, tho with moans, and plaintive cries From his concealment issues to the light Man's tender Progeny, believe, He feels Th' external air his undefended frame Keenly invade. These moans, these cries proceed From other causes. To his lungs at once, Expanding their nice substance, rushes in The forceful air. The circulating blood Alters it's course, thro channels unessay'd Impell'd, whose first resistance haply claim Exertions of the labouring heart, quick, strong, If not convulsive, yet irregular. Exertions of the lungs themselves, to gain Their necessary powers, and genial spring. Add too that oft each muscle, every limb Strain'd and compresst, scarce bears the gentlest touch, Sore from the late hard conflict undergone, And agonies maternal. But to cold, Know, He is born impassive; or at least With vital warmth supplied, to render vain It's most severe assault; beyond the scale Of heat which stimulates maturer age.

HE needs not Art's assistant hand, or dress Of studied care. Uncloath'd, in wilder climes, Like the more hardy natives of the soil, E'en in the polar regions, He might brave The freezing atmosphere. Nay, unwith-held By dubious fears, tho placed indeed beneath More favouring skies, there are, who from his birth Plunge th' infant stranger in the gelid wave, Where unappall'd the mother too enjoys The bath's refreshing coolness. But, nor harsh, Nor fanciful, We shall not recommend To Thee, more delicate in form and mind, Daughter of Britain, these examples, drawn From savage nations, and from tribes remote. Cloath'd be thy Child; so polisht custom wills, And decent manners: But in airy garb, Loose, and uncinctured. Thus He shall avoid The torment of accumulated heat, Nor from unnatural coercion feel Distress and anguish. With minuter rules To croud the page, and dull or quaint describe His vesture, what materials should compose Each article, and whether by the loop, Or pin restrain'd, (tho as the last may bring Danger, nay death, the caution which forbids It's use, above the trivial-seeming cause Important rises) descants such as these, Prolixly mean, would argue in the Muse Failure of judgment, no respect to Thee. Suffice the general maxim; to dilate. And to the test each consequence reduce, Be thine. Bright glows the warm maternal soul, And clear, illumined by a hint alone.

NOR flows with that necessity the strain, As erst it might, when barbarous hands around The new-born Babe fold over fold inwreath'd The circling band. Amid the wanton gales Which Luxury breathes, amid the changeful swarms Which Fashion decks in her chameleon hues, Amid th' increasing follies of our age, And vices not perhaps destructive less Than those of old, tho softer, milder far, Link'd with humanity, and taught to charm, To poison by politeness; Justice owns, While the rough virtues of our ancestors And manly genius We no more behold: Our souls revolt from habits which enslaved Unamiable their Minds, and from the sway Of Prejudice, whose galling shackles long Their vigorous faculties controul'd. This truth Justice confesses, this, th' instructive Muse.

GLADLY, O Mother! We congratulate Thy Infant, who from life's first dawn enjoys His birth-right, who the vital air at will Inhales, nor feels corporeal bonds. With me Revert thine eyes, and Lo! their hapless Sons, How braced and pinion'd, who t' extend the reign Of civil liberty, with ardour toil'd, Who fought, who bled t' extend it. (Nor escaped The Race preceding our's.) See, where they lye, True objects of compassion! round them close Is fixt the painful bandage, not a limb Can move; sad victims to th' erroneous creed Which holds that Nature incompletely acts, And forms defective works, that Art may give The strength by her refused, and perfect thus Th' unfinisht system, gasping they recline In real martyrdom. The shriek is heard, The groan, the sob expressive, but in vain. In vain the little Captive, as awhile Released from durance, utters sounds of joy, Stretches his arms well-pleased, and smiles, and casts His looks delighted on the cheerful blaze, Or waving taper. To his fetters soon Remanded, He in vain attempts to cope With arbitrary power, each effort tries, Shews by each deed th' abhorrence which He feels, Adding th' emphatic eloquence of tears, Of inarticulate, but deep distress, And struggles all-impassion'd to be free.

WITH pity and contempt thy soul beholds This picture. What calamities ensued, Experience proved; but idiot bigotry Confess'd them not. Th' evolving principle Within, the plastic juice augmenting size, Thus partially impeded, could not urge The destined fibres onward, or enlarge By due accretion e'en the vital cells Requiring speediest growth. Yet active still, In disproportion'd manner, to the head Unseemly bulk they added; or the joints Distended, and relax'd. Or oft from pain Shrinking, the Child, unconscious but of ease, Curved by forced attitudes the flexile bones, Nay th' all-supporting spine. Th' obstructed breath, The fluids in their circulating course Unnaturally check'd; th' irriguous glands; The fount whence motion, and sensation spring, And future intellect, the Brain itself, Disturbed, or with more lasting injury Impresst, exclaim'd at this preposterous war, The war which Step-dame Art with Nature waged.

CALL'D by society to tread the paths Of busy life, from it's hard slavery soon The stronger Sex was freed; and ere too late, Haply by Nature's potent air restored, Could boast a frame of vigour unimpair'd, And undeformed. But to long sufferings doom'd, The female Race, so will'd perverted taste, For many a year pined underneath the force Of this domestic torture. For as erst The Mother strove t' assist their infant nerves, And give to weakness strength: She now assay'd Her progeny t' embellish, and their shape To mould, as fancied beauty in her eye Deceptive shone. Heaven! that the human Mind Warp'd by imagination, should believe, Or e'en suggest it possible, the form, Whose archetype the Deity Himself Created in his image, could be changed From it's divine proportion, and receive By alteration, comeliness and grace! That round the Zone which awkwardly reduced E'en to an insect ligament the waist, The blooming loves should sport, enticing charms, And young attractions! Heaven! that e'er a Bard, (The genuine Bard is Natures' sacred Priest) Forgetful of his charge, should deck with praise As fair and lovely, what would strike the soul Unwarp'd by custom, as a subject fit For scorn, indignant spleen, or ridicule. Yet Prior! tho nor taste nor reason blend Their essence with the verse, while lasts the tongue Thy numbers help'd to polish, while the powers Of melody bear sway, the verse shall live, Beauteous description of a Gothic Shape.

OH! may the manners of thy nut-brown Maid, Her artless truth, simplicity of soul, Her fondness, and intrepid constancy, Long in the bosoms of the British Fair, Tho banisht every other region, dwell, Delighted inmates! May their eyes still beam With all her speaking rays, their cheeks endue Her modest crimson! But may never more "The Boddice aptly laced" their panting hearts Confine, or mutilate that symmetry Of limb and figure, whence a Zeuxis' hand His all-accomplisht Helen might have form'd, Or a Praxiteles with happiest art Sculptured a Venus. Tho Meridian day Behold them drest as potent fashion bids, Girt with exterior ornaments uncouth, Trappings disgustful; yet at morn, or eve, Or when they to the genial bed repair, Still may they charm the melting eye of love With elegance and grace, the fabled Dames Of classic soil transcending, native grace, And elegance unveil'd, which mocks attire.

RETURN Digressive Muse! t' approach the shore Of Cyprus, or to breathe the tepid gales From Achedivias' Island wafted round, Is not thy choice; tho CAMOENS' Shade invite, And MICKLE with his glowing spirit fraught, As each heroic, so each scene of joy Paint with a Master's fire unlimited By cold translation. Never may our strain One vague idea raise, which spotless minds May blush to own, much less insult the glance Of virgin purity, or harshly wound The conjugal and chaste maternal ear.

DIGRESSIVE Muse return! our proper theme Is Man's first helpless state, our tuneful aid Th' ingenuous Parent claims. Resolved to bless Thy Child with ease and freedom, taught to shun By the dire act of Swathing, all constraint So baneful, let no part escape thy care. Nor load the head; nor till he walk abroad, At least till firmly he can press the ground, Cover the legs or feet. Some precepts here, To Cloathing unattached, or slightly link'd, We mean t' inculcate. Need I then to thee, O Mother, whom the soul refined alone Can prompt t' inspect my numbers, recommend The Virtues' dear Correlative, (as They The mental frame, so the corporeal, She Adorning, rendering pure) the decent Maid, Unsullied Cleanliness, with Her full oft Thy Charge to visit? Not that to her shrine E'en from thy tender years thou hast not paid Sincerest worship. But my words believe, Strict watchfulness the Menial Train require, And if, unheedful to their trust, they slight The grave rebuke, dismiss them from thy doors. Not Their's the nicer sense inspiring Thee, Those principles and habits now intwined In union with thy nature. Nor is their's The Babe, who smarting from their sloth, with nerves Keenly alive, by the corrosive sting Of acrimony pierced, tormented shrieks, Or moans incessant. Neither scorn as vain, The dictates which succeed, from Reason learn'd.

BANISH the softer couch; let not thy Child Recline on down; his pliant bones but now From cartilage emerging, on the bed Which yields beneath his weight may haply gain, Thus frequently recumbent, a deformed And twisted aspect, by Chirurgic skill For ever irreclaimable. Nor less Such accident t' avoid, with cautious eye Th' attendant mark, who bears him in her arms, And let Her oft his posture shift, oft change From right to left, altern. A careless Tribe, Purchased by interest only, is the Race To servitude accustomed; trust not them. Trust thy own judgment, let thy ruling mind Govern each act of their's. Yet neither here, Nor elsewhere, mean We in a general blame T' involve them all. Some from attachment serve, And to constrictive duty add the tye Of willing love. Such as a treasure prize, A countless treasure. Say, by One of these Is thy Child foster'd? smoothe for her the brow, The tone of high command; let all her days Roll on illumed by kindness and esteem; Think her thy fellow-labourer and thy friend; Alleviate every future ill of life, And, if thou can'st, remove them. Ne'er may She Who with maternal prudence, and the warmth Of zeal affectionate, hath lent her aid To form thy Children, to support, to raise From perilous estate to strength and health, Feel the distressful sting of poverty, Or, if the means are not withheld, in thee Want a protector. But, if more than this, Her bosom hath the nutriment supplied Which thine refused, still more may she demand, And thou in justice grant the liberal boon.

AND Oh! Ingenuous Youth! whose blood now flusht With yet unsatiated desire, quick beats In every pulse, to mix in active life Intent, or climb where science points the way! Oh Virgin! Who with beauty deckt, and gay In unperverted innocence around Survey'st thy Homagers, yet covetest One faithful heart alone. Oh! recollect Her assiduity, her diligence, And tender care, to which Thou owest the frame Able to cope with business, or sustain The toil, which knowledge asks, to gather in Her wide-spread harvest. That attentive zeal, To which thou owest the comeliness of shape, Those beauties which from every eye attract Th' applausive glance, and every breast inspire With love or admiration. Recollect Not frigidly, or faintly, like the crew Who every pleasure center in themselves; Not with weak indecisive apathy; But with a bounteous and expanded soul, Estranged from self, replete with gratitude.

BECAUSE the winged Nations fondly brood Over their unfledg'd Young; because We view Where'er reclined, her new-born Offspring press Close to the Parent Quadruped; because By instinct irresistible impell'd The Mother longs t' embrace her infant Charge, And hide it in her bosom; while thro wilds, Or o'er the desart mountain as she roves, The Savage still her clinging Babe sustains: Some, this communicated warmth affirm Is needful; and that Man's else-drooping Race Requires the genial contact. Mindless they, How far from Nature's simpleness diverge Our steps, our every action. Were the Child Unclad by day, unshelter'd thro the night, We should not hesitate to recommend What otherwise We smile at, or perchance Hold but of dubious consequence. Our lays Have taught what cold his system can repell First into light immerging: And if cloath'd As custom bids, he from himself will gain This added warmth, condensed, and on himself Recoiling. Better thus, than haply sunk Beneath the load which our nocturnal rest Demands, to feel th' intense phlogistic heat Of temporary fever, or to melt In copious steam away. Much better thus, Than by the Mother or the Nurse oppresst In heavy sleep, to frustrate all the schemes Parental love had formed; or placed within Some ancient Hireling's bed, instead of warmth From generous blood, and balmy breath supplied, To warm the shrivell'd Dotard. But, if laid From thee remote, or in the couch with thine Conjoin'd, why should'st Thou not examine well And frequently his lodgment? so inform'd, Thou can'st not fail, O Mother! to perceive What suits his constitution, what to add, What to subtract; doubtless thy native sense Beyond my strains will teach thee, that when rules Fierce Sirius, lighter vestments will suffice, Than when Aquarius opes his full-fraught urn, And Winter arm'd with piercing frost, defies Th' unwarlike Sun. Thy prudent soul will know His limbs in health, blest with the temperate mean, Nor heat nor cold betray. Yet truth forbids To slight exceptions which are often found Eluding justest rules. Should some disease Attack thy Child, and anguish writhe his frame, To shivering pain thy near approach may give Solace and ease, nay as it were, foment, Assuage, and lull the smart; or should He pine With more than common weakness, from his birth Afflicted, blasted, or untimely born With nerves imperfect, as th' exotic flower Thrives not, but when included from the winds, It's fibres by the sun's concenter'd rays Are duly irritated, he may want Thy vital stimulating heat. But soon E'en then attempt increase of strength to give By other means; and seek at first the Bath Of moderate temperature; by slow degrees Proceeding, till his habit can support The powerful shock which colder lymph imparts.

BUT so diffusive is the tyrant reign Of Fashion; such our table's proud excess; Such is our love of cards, time's Murderers, Keen agitators of the gentlest breasts, (Which ought to be the gentlest,) such those hours, Those midnight hours, corrodent of the bloom Which else would decorate the female cheek, And animate the lips which now are pale: Such the destructive arts, when beauty fades, It's meretricious semblance to display, The lifeless white, and never-varying blush; Detected by the curious eye, which hates The fraud, and painted Cytheraea scorns: Such are our Matrons, such, (except the Few, Who nobly singular behold, and smile At Folly's deeds absurd) that all who spring From them, may well partake the feeble nerve, And vapid blood, in which more faintly glows The living principle; and what for some We erst prescribed, We now prescribe to All, To all their children; neither do We think Even to them the song may flow in vain; For should Caprice applaud, who oft usurps The throne of Sense, and guides the public taste, In her wild fit round Merit's brow the wreathe Intwining, which for Folly she design'd, They too may cast a glance across the page Which Fashion bids them read. Know then Ye Fair, Whom tho my heart approves not, I behold With truest pity, know, th' unhappy Babes Whom you have toil'd unceasing to produce Fragile and delicate, a word of your's Perhaps may rescue from impending fate. Oh! issue your commands! great is the power Of cold: Yourselves no doubt have often sought In fervid summer it's benign effects In the salt deep, whence braced You might endure The winter's hard campaign. And hence new tone Your Offspring shall derive, their stamina In some degree corrected, while the force Of nervous influence more intensely thrills Th' arterial frame, and the lax Muscle swells.

YE Frigid Springs! wherever first appear Your bubbling sources, underneath the grot, Or pendent shade. Ye ever-living Streams! Where'er Ye wind pellucid thro the vales Your pastoral mazes, or o'er rocks abrupt Hurl down your dashing foam. Ye Rivers wide! Where'er in proud procession to the Main Your copious tribute rolls: to You my song Should grateful rise—Ye Naiads! who direct Each scatter'd rill, ere in coactive strength They flow exuberant; to your praise attuned Should sound the note melodious, and your names Would I, ye Nymphs recount, and joyful paint Your attributes and virtues—But your Priest, Your favourite Akenside, his hallow'd lays Hath not in vain effused, with pious voice Hymning your benefits; and all around Your sacred haunts hath cast a magic spell, Forbidding each profaner foot, the groves, The caves, the dells obscure where Ye sojourn, And your chaste bosoms shelter from the fire Of scorching Phoebus, wantonly t' approach, Or rudely violate. Nor shall my feet Profanely tread your dark-embowering shades, Nor shall my roving eye with curious search Your deep recesses pierce. Yet, O Ye Springs! Ye Streams! Ye Rivers clear! And Thou, by whom They all are fed, to whom they all return, Exhaustless Ocean! with the general song Which choral Nature pours, my voice shall join Tho undistinguish'd; and with all that creep, Or run, or fly, or vegetate, shall own Your fructifying, life-preserving power. Your power, which Thales, which the Man of Thebes Contemplating, affirm'd to listening Greece, That water all transcends, unrivall'd, best, The sole, prolific element of things.

WHETHER your moisture cloathe th' exulting meads With herbage, or slow-deluging the plain, You fertilize the soil, while Millions view The prospect with delight, sure pledge of wealth, Of copious-teeming harvests. Whether soft And gentle your refreshing dews descend, Absorbed by each inhalant leaf and flower. Whether your rains entangle as they fall Th' electric fluid, and with vital strength Each seed inform, each fainting plant supply. Whether You offer to the thirsty lip Delicious draughts; or to the anguid frame Of sickness your invigorating waves Wherein to bathe, and feel the tonic force Of Cold at every trial brace the limbs, The heart, the brain re-act at every shock, Till all their pristine energy restored The fibres move responsive to their sway, And the once loitering blood propell'd anew Warm thro it's channels to the surface flows. You, mid the general song which Nature pours, My grateful strains shall praise. For, not Unread In Poeon's hallow'd lore, not uninform'd By chemic Art, your healing qualities I too may boast to know; and whence derived, From earths, or salts, or mineral particles, Combined, suspended by attraction's laws, Or held in union by aerial chains, And crown'd with sprightly Gas. Hence, led by hope, By reason led, I drank with eager lip At those salubrious springs which make renown'd Our British Baiae; but th' obstructing cause Of ill, or relaxation faint remain'd; Such mischief waits on sedentary hours, And studious midnight thought. Hence now the shores Of hoary Neptune, hence the sounding caves I seek, and turn to the refreshing breeze My languid face, inhaling, as I sit, The briny spray; or mark the rising sun Beyond the vast expanse diffusing wide His glorious beams, and at his orient light Dip in the fluid element; nor breathe To either Power unheeded orisons.

SURELY, not duped by Fancy, I perceive At times, as struggling to be free, the trace Of long-forgotten feelings! And my limbs More firmly press the beach! And t'ward the flood I move, unaided by ministrant hands. O DAWLISH! though unclassic be thy name, By every Muse unsung, should from thy tide, To keen poetic eyes alone reveal'd, (From the cerulean bosom of the deep As Aphrodite rose of old) appear Health's blooming Goddess, and benignant smile On her true Votary; not Cythera's fane, Not Eryx, nor the laurel boughs which waved On Delos erst, Apollo's natal soil, However warm enthusiastic Youth Dwelt on those seats enamour'd, shall to Me Be half so dear. To thee will I consign Often the timid Virgin, to thy pure Incircling waves; to thee will I consign The feeble Matron, or the Child on whom Thou may'st bestow a second happier birth From weakness into strength. And should I view Unsetter'd with the sound firm-judging mind, Imagination too return, array'd In her once-glowing vest, to thee my lyre Shall oft be tuned, and to thy Nereids green, Long, long unnoticed in their haunts retired. Nor will I cease to prize thy lovely strand, Thy towering cliffs, nor the small babbling brook Whose shallow current laves thy thistled Vale.