Poems

by George Crabbe

And now the Fairies came with Gifts to grace,
So mild a Nature and so fair a Face.
They gave, with Beauty, that bewitching Art,
That holds in easy Chains the human Heart;
They gave her Skill to win the stubborn Mind,
To make the Suffering to their Sorrows blind,
To bring on pensive Looks the pleasing Smile,
And Care’s stern Brow of every Frown beguile.
These magic Favours grac’d the Infant-maid,
Whose more enlivening Smile, the charming Gifts repaid.

Now Fortune chang’d, who, were she constant long,
Would leave us few Adventures for our Song.
A wicked Elfin rov’d this Land around,
Whose Joys proceeded from the Griefs he found;
Envy his Name:—his fascinating Eye,
From the light Bosom drew the sudden Sigh;
Unsocial he, but with malignant Mind,
He dwelt with Man, that he might curse Mankind;
Like the first Foe he sought th’ Abode of Joy,
Griev’d to behold but eager to destroy;
Round blooming Beauty, like the Wasp, he flew,
Soil’d the fresh Sweet and chang’d the rosy Hue;
The Wise, the Good, with anxious Heart, he saw,
And here a Failing found and there a Flaw;
Discord in Families ’twas his to move,
Distrust in Friendship, Jealousy in Love;
He told the Poor, what Joys the Great possess’d,
The Great—what calm Content the Cottage bless’d;
To part the Learned and the Rich he tried,
Till their slow Friendship perish’d in their Pride.
Such was the Fiend, and so secure of Prey,
That only Misery pass’d unstung away.

Soon as he heard the Fairy-babe was born,
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;
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.

His Spell prepar’d, in Form an antient Dame,
A Fiend in Spirit, to the Cot he came;
There gain’d Admittance and the Infant press’d,
(Muttering his wicked Magic) to his Breast;
And thus he said:—“Of all the Powers, who wait
“On Jove’s Decrees and do the Work of Fate,
“Was I alone, despis’d or worthless, found,
“Weak to protect or impotent to wound?
“See then thy Foe, regret the Friendship lost,
“And learn my Skill but learn it at your Cost.
“Know then, O Child! devote to Fates severe,
“The Good shall hate thy Name, the Wise shall fear;
“Wit shall deride and no protecting Friend
“Thy Shame shall cover or thy Name defend.
“Thy gentle Sex, who, more than ours, should spare
“An humble Foe, will greater Scorn declare;
“The Base alone thy Advocates shall be,
“Or boast Alliance with a Wretch like thee.”
He spake and vanish’d, other Prey to find,
And waste in slow Disease the conquer’d Mind.

Aw’d by the Elfin’s Threats, and fill’d with dread,
The Parents wept and sought their Infant’s Bed;
Despair alone the Father’s Soul possess’d;
But Hope rose gently in the Mother’s Breast;
For well she knew that neither Grief nor Joy,
Pain’d without Hope or pleas’d without Alloy;
And while these Hopes and Fears her Heart divide,
A cheerful Vision bade the Fears subside.

She saw descending to the World below,
An antient Form with solemn Pace and slow.

“Daughter, no more be sad,” (the Phantom cried,)
“Success is seldom to the Wise denied;
“In idle Wishes Fools supinely stay,
“Be there a Will and Wisdom finds a Way;
“Why art thou griev’d? Be rather glad, that he,
“Who hates the happy aims his Darts at thee;
“But aims in vain; thy favour’d Daughter lies,
“Serenely blest and shall to Joy arise.
“For, grant that Curses on her Name shall wait,
“(So Envy wills and such the voice of Fate,)
“Yet if that Name be prudently suppress’d,
“She shall be courted, favour’d, and caress’d.
“For what are Names? and where agree Mankind,
“In those to Persons or to Acts assign’d?
“Brave, learn’d or wise, if some their Favourites call,
“Have they the Titles or the Praise from all?
“Not so, but others will the Brave disdain
“As rash, and deem the Sons of Wisdom, vain;
“The self-same Mind shall Scorn or Kindness move,
“And the same Deed attract Contempt and Love.
“So all the Powers, who move the human Soul,
“With all the Passions, who the Will controul,
“Have various Names.—One giv’n by Truth divine,
“(As Simulation thus was fix’d for mine,)
“The rest by Man, who now as Wisdom’s prize
“My secret Counsels, now as Art despise;
“One hour as just, those Counsels they embrace,
“And spurn, the next, as pitiful and base.
“Thee too, my Child, those Fools as Cunning fly,
“Who on thy Counsel and thy Craft rely,
“That worthy Craft in others they condemn:
“But ’tis their Prudence, while conducting them.
“Be Flattery, then, thy happy Infant’s Name,
“Let Honour scorn her and let Wit defame;
“Let all be true that Envy dooms, yet all,
“Not on herself, but on her Name, shall fall;
“While she thy Fortune and her own shall raise,
“And decent Truth be call’d and lov’d, as modest Praise.
“O happy Child! the glorious Day shall shine,}
“When every Ear shall to thy Speech incline, }
“Thy Words alluring and the Voice divine: }
“The sullen Pedant and the sprightly Wit,
“To hear thy soothing Eloquence, shall sit;
“And both, abjuring Flattery, will agree,
“That Truth inspires and they must honour thee.
“Envy himself shall to thy Accents bend,
“Force a faint smile and sullenly attend,
“When thou shalt call him Virtue’s jealous Friend,
“Whose Bosom glows with generous rage to find,
“How Fools and Knaves are flatter’d by Mankind.
“The Sage retir’d, who spends alone his Days,
“And flies th’ obstreperous Voice of public Praise;
“The vain, the vulgar Cry,—shall gladly meet,
“And bid thee welcome to his still Retreat;
“Much will he wonder, how thou cam’st to find
“A Man to Glory dead, to Peace consign’d.
“O Fame! he’ll cry, (for he will call thee Fame,)
“From thee I fly, from thee conceal my Name;
“But thou shalt say, Though Genius takes his Flight,
“He leaves behind a glorious Train of Light,
“And hides in vain:—yet prudent he that flies
“The Flatterer’s Art, and for himself is wise.
“Yes, happy Child! I mark th’ approaching Day,
“When warring Natures will confess thy Sway;
“When thou shalt Saturn’s golden Reign restore,
“And Vice and Folly shall be known no more.
“Pride shall not then in Human-kind have place,
“Chang’d by thy Skill, to Dignity and Grace;
“While Shame, who now betrays the inward Sense
“Of secret Ill, shall be thy Diffidence;
“Avarice shall thenceforth prudent Forecast be,
“And bloody Vengeance, Magnanimity;
“The lavish Tongue shall honest Truths impart, }
“The lavish Hand shall show the generous Heart,}
“And Indiscretion be, Contempt of Art: }
“Folly and Vice shall then, no longer known,
“Be, this as Virtue, that as Wisdom, shown.
“Then shall the Robber, as the Hero rise
“To seize the Good, that churlish Law denies;
“Throughout the World shall rove the generous Band,
“And deal the Gifts of Heaven from hand to hand.
“In thy blest Days no Tyrants shall be seen,
“Thy gracious Kings shall rule contented Men;
“In thy blest Days shall not a Rebel be,
“But Patriots all and well approv’d of thee.
“Such Powers are thine, that Man, by thee, shall wrest
“The gainful Secret from the cautious Breast;
“Nor then, with all his care, the Good retain,
“But yield to thee the Secret and the Gain.
“In vain, shall much Experience guard the Heart,
“Against the Charm of thy prevailing Art;
“Admitted once, so soothing is thy Strain,
“It comes the sweeter, when it comes again;
“And when confest as thine, what Mind so strong,
“Forbears the Pleasure it indulg’d so long?
“Soft’ner of every Ill! of all our Woes
“The balmy Solace! Friend of fiercest Foes!
“Begin thy Reign and like the Morning rise;
“Bring Joy, bring Beauty, to our eager Eyes;
“Break on the drowsy World like opening Day, }
“While Grace and Gladness join thy flow’ry Way; }
“While every Voice is Praise, while every Heart is gay.}
“From thee, all Prospects shall new Beauties take,
“’Tis thine to seek them and ’tis thine to make;
“On the cold Fen, I see thee turn thine Eyes,
“Its Mists recede, its chilling Vapour flies;
“Th’ enraptur’d Lord th’ improving Ground surveys,
“And for his Eden, asks the Traveller’s Praise,
“Which yet, unview’d of thee, a Bog had been,
“Where spungy Rushes hide the plashy Green.
“I see thee breathing on the barren Moor,
“That seems to bloom although so bleak before;
“There if beneath the Gorze the Primrose spring,
“Or the pied Daisy smile below the Ling,
“They shall new Charms, at thy Command, disclose,
“And none shall miss the Myrtle or the Rose.
“The wiry Moss, that whitens all the Hill,
“Shall live a Beauty by thy matchless Skill;
“Gale[15] from the Bog shall yield Arabian Balm,
“And the Grey Willow wave a golden Palm.
“I see thee smiling in the pictur’d Room,
“Now breathing Beauty, now reviving Bloom;
“There, each immortal Name, ’tis thine to give,
“To graceless Forms, and bid the Lumber live.
“Should’st thou coarse Boors or gloomy Martyrs see,
“These shall thy Guidos, those thy Tenniers be;
“There shalt thou, Raphaël’s Saints and Angels trace,}
“There make for Reubens and for Reynolds place, }
“And all the Pride of Art shall find in her, Disgrace. }
“Delight of either Sex! thy Reign commence; }
“With balmy Sweetness, soothe the weary Sense, }
“And to the sickening Soul thy cheering Aid dispense. }
“Queen of the Mind! thy golden Age begin; }
“In mortal Bosoms varnish Shame and Sin, }
“Let all be fair without, let all be calm within.”}

The Vision fled, the happy Mother rose,
Kiss’d the fair Infant, smil’d at all her Foes,
And Flattery made her Name:—Her Reign began,
Her own dear Sex she rul’d, then vanquish’d Man;
A smiling Friend, to every Class, she spoke,
Assum’d their Manners and their Habits took;
Her, for her humble Mien, the Modest lov’d;
Her cheerful Looks, the Light and Gay approv’d;
The Just beheld her, firm; the Valiant, brave;
Her Mirth the Free, her Silence pleas’d the Grave;
Zeal heard her Voice, and as he preach’d aloud,
Well-pleas’d he caught her Whispers from the Crowd,
(Those Whispers soothing-sweet to every Ear,
Which some refuse to pay, but none to hear):
Shame fled her Presence; at her gentle Strain,
Care softly smil’d and Guilt forgot its Pain;
The Wretched thought, the Happy found her true,
The Learn’d confess’d, that she their Merits knew;
The Rich—could they a constant Friend condemn?
The Poor believ’d—for who should flatter them?

Thus on her Name, while all Disgrace attend,
In every Creature she beholds a Friend.