PART 3. HELL.
1.
Hell is a city much like London—
A populous and a smoky city;
There are all sorts of people undone,
And there is little or no fun done; 150
Small justice shown, and still less pity.
2.
There is a Castles, and a Canning,
A Cobbett, and a Castlereagh;
All sorts of caitiff corpses planning
All sorts of cozening for trepanning 155
Corpses less corrupt than they.
3.
There is a ***, who has lost
His wits, or sold them, none knows which;
He walks about a double ghost,
And though as thin as Fraud almost— 160
Ever grows more grim and rich.
4.
There is a Chancery Court; a King;
A manufacturing mob; a set
Of thieves who by themselves are sent
Similar thieves to represent; 165
An army; and a public debt.
5.
Which last is a scheme of paper money,
And means—being interpreted—
'Bees, keep your wax—give us the honey,
And we will plant, while skies are sunny, 170
Flowers, which in winter serve instead.'
6.
There is a great talk of revolution—
And a great chance of despotism—
German soldiers—camps—confusion—
Tumults—lotteries—rage—delusion— 175
Gin—suicide—and methodism;
7.
Taxes too, on wine and bread,
And meat, and beer, and tea, and cheese,
From which those patriots pure are fed,
Who gorge before they reel to bed 180
The tenfold essence of all these.
8.
There are mincing women, mewing,
(Like cats, who amant misere,)
Of their own virtue, and pursuing
Their gentler sisters to that ruin, 185
Without which—what were chastity?
9.
Lawyers—judges—old hobnobbers
Are there—bailiffs—chancellors—
Bishops—great and little robbers—
Rhymesters—pamphleteers—stock-jobbers— 190
Men of glory in the wars,—
10.
Things whose trade is, over ladies
To lean, and flirt, and stare, and simper,
Till all that is divine in woman
Grows cruel, courteous, smooth, inhuman, 195
Crucified 'twixt a smile and whimper.
11.
Thrusting, toiling, wailing, moiling,
Frowning, preaching—such a riot!
Each with never-ceasing labour,
Whilst he thinks he cheats his neighbour, 200
Cheating his own heart of quiet.
12.
And all these meet at levees;—
Dinners convivial and political;—
Suppers of epic poets;—teas,
Where small talk dies in agonies;— 205
Breakfasts professional and critical;
13.
Lunches and snacks so aldermanic
That one would furnish forth ten dinners,
Where reigns a Cretan-tongued panic,
Lest news Russ, Dutch, or Alemannic 210
Should make some losers, and some winners—
45.
At conversazioni—balls—
Conventicles—and drawing-rooms—
Courts of law—committees—calls
Of a morning—clubs—book-stalls— 215
Churches—masquerades—and tombs.
15.
And this is Hell—and in this smother
All are damnable and damned;
Each one damning, damns the other;
They are damned by one another, 220
By none other are they damned.
16.
'Tis a lie to say, 'God damns'!
Where was Heaven's Attorney General
When they first gave out such flams?
Let there be an end of shams, 225
They are mines of poisonous mineral.
17.
Statesmen damn themselves to be
Cursed; and lawyers damn their souls
To the auction of a fee;
Churchmen damn themselves to see 230
God's sweet love in burning coals.
18.
The rich are damned, beyond all cure,
To taunt, and starve, and trample on
The weak and wretched; and the poor
Damn their broken hearts to endure 235
Stripe on stripe, with groan on groan.
19.
Sometimes the poor are damned indeed
To take,—not means for being blessed,—
But Cobbett's snuff, revenge; that weed
From which the worms that it doth feed 240
Squeeze less than they before possessed.
20.
And some few, like we know who,
Damned—but God alone knows why—
To believe their minds are given
To make this ugly Hell a Heaven; 245
In which faith they live and die.
21.
Thus, as in a town, plague-stricken,
Each man be he sound or no
Must indifferently sicken;
As when day begins to thicken, 250
None knows a pigeon from a crow,—
22.
So good and bad, sane and mad,
The oppressor and the oppressed;
Those who weep to see what others
Smile to inflict upon their brothers; 255
Lovers, haters, worst and best;
23.
All are damned—they breathe an air,
Thick, infected, joy-dispelling:
Each pursues what seems most fair,
Mining like moles, through mind, and there 260
Scoop palace-caverns vast, where Care
In throned state is ever dwelling.
PART 4. SIN.
1.
Lo. Peter in Hell's Grosvenor Square,
A footman in the Devil's service!
And the misjudging world would swear 265
That every man in service there
To virtue would prefer vice.
2.
But Peter, though now damned, was not
What Peter was before damnation.
Men oftentimes prepare a lot 270
Which ere it finds them, is not what
Suits with their genuine station.
3.
All things that Peter saw and felt
Had a peculiar aspect to him;
And when they came within the belt 275
Of his own nature, seemed to melt,
Like cloud to cloud, into him.
4.
And so the outward world uniting
To that within him, he became
Considerably uninviting 280
To those who, meditation slighting,
Were moulded in a different frame.
5.
And he scorned them, and they scorned him;
And he scorned all they did; and they
Did all that men of their own trim 285
Are wont to do to please their whim,
Drinking, lying, swearing, play.
6.
Such were his fellow-servants; thus
His virtue, like our own, was built
Too much on that indignant fuss 290
Hypocrite Pride stirs up in us
To bully one another's guilt.
7.
He had a mind which was somehow
At once circumference and centre
Of all he might or feel or know; 295
Nothing went ever out, although
Something did ever enter.
8.
He had as much imagination
As a pint-pot;—he never could
Fancy another situation, 300
From which to dart his contemplation,
Than that wherein he stood.
9.
Yet his was individual mind,
And new created all he saw
In a new manner, and refined 305
Those new creations, and combined
Them, by a master-spirit's law.
10.
Thus—though unimaginative—
An apprehension clear, intense,
Of his mind's work, had made alive 310
The things it wrought on; I believe
Wakening a sort of thought in sense.
11.
But from the first 'twas Peter's drift
To be a kind of moral eunuch,
He touched the hem of Nature's shift, 315
Felt faint—and never dared uplift
The closest, all-concealing tunic.
12.
She laughed the while, with an arch smile,
And kissed him with a sister's kiss,
And said—My best Diogenes, 320
I love you well—but, if you please,
Tempt not again my deepest bliss.
13.
''Tis you are cold—for I, not coy,
Yield love for love, frank, warm, and true;
And Burns, a Scottish peasant boy— 325
His errors prove it—knew my joy
More, learned friend, than you.
14.
'Boeca bacciata non perde ventura,
Anzi rinnuova come fa la luna:—
So thought Boccaccio, whose sweet words might cure a 330
Male prude, like you, from what you now endure, a
Low-tide in soul, like a stagnant laguna.
15.
Then Peter rubbed his eyes severe.
And smoothed his spacious forehead down
With his broad palm;—'twixt love and fear, 335
He looked, as he no doubt felt, queer,
And in his dream sate down.
16.
The Devil was no uncommon creature;
A leaden-witted thief—just huddled
Out of the dross and scum of nature; 340
A toad-like lump of limb and feature,
With mind, and heart, and fancy muddled.
17.
He was that heavy, dull, cold thing,
The spirit of evil well may be:
A drone too base to have a sting; 345
Who gluts, and grimes his lazy wing,
And calls lust, luxury.
18.
Now he was quite the kind of wight
Round whom collect, at a fixed aera,
Venison, turtle, hock, and claret,— 350
Good cheer—and those who come to share it—
And best East Indian madeira!
19.
It was his fancy to invite
Men of science, wit, and learning,
Who came to lend each other light; 355
He proudly thought that his gold's might
Had set those spirits burning.
20.
And men of learning, science, wit,
Considered him as you and I
Think of some rotten tree, and sit 360
Lounging and dining under it,
Exposed to the wide sky.
21.
And all the while with loose fat smile,
The willing wretch sat winking there,
Believing 'twas his power that made 365
That jovial scene—and that all paid
Homage to his unnoticed chair.
22.
Though to be sure this place was Hell;
He was the Devil—and all they—
What though the claret circled well, 370
And wit, like ocean, rose and fell?—
Were damned eternally.
PART 5. GRACE.
1.
Among the guests who often stayed
Till the Devil's petits-soupers,
A man there came, fair as a maid, 375
And Peter noted what he said,
Standing behind his master's chair.
2.
He was a mighty poet—and
A subtle-souled psychologist;
All things he seemed to understand, 380
Of old or new—of sea or land—
But his own mind—which was a mist.
3.
This was a man who might have turned
Hell into Heaven—and so in gladness
A Heaven unto himself have earned; 385
But he in shadows undiscerned
Trusted.—and damned himself to madness.
4.
He spoke of poetry, and how
'Divine it was—a light—a love—
A spirit which like wind doth blow 390
As it listeth, to and fro;
A dew rained down from God above;
5.
'A power which comes and goes like dream,
And which none can ever trace—
Heaven's light on earth—Truth's brightest beam.' 395
And when he ceased there lay the gleam
Of those words upon his face.
6.
Now Peter, when he heard such talk,
Would, heedless of a broken pate,
Stand like a man asleep, or balk 400
Some wishing guest of knife or fork,
Or drop and break his master's plate.
7.
At night he oft would start and wake
Like a lover, and began
In a wild measure songs to make 405
On moor, and glen, and rocky lake,
And on the heart of man—
8.
And on the universal sky—
And the wide earth's bosom green,—
And the sweet, strange mystery 410
Of what beyond these things may lie,
And yet remain unseen.
9.
For in his thought he visited
The spots in which, ere dead and damned,
He his wayward life had led; 415
Yet knew not whence the thoughts were fed
Which thus his fancy crammed.
10.
And these obscure remembrances
Stirred such harmony in Peter,
That, whensoever he should please, 420
He could speak of rocks and trees
In poetic metre.
11.
For though it was without a sense
Of memory, yet he remembered well
Many a ditch and quick-set fence; 425
Of lakes he had intelligence,
He knew something of heath and fell.
12.
He had also dim recollections
Of pedlars tramping on their rounds;
Milk-pans and pails; and odd collections 430
Of saws, and proverbs; and reflections
Old parsons make in burying-grounds.
13.
But Peter's verse was clear, and came
Announcing from the frozen hearth
Of a cold age, that none might tame 435
The soul of that diviner flame
It augured to the Earth:
14.
Like gentle rains, on the dry plains,
Making that green which late was gray,
Or like the sudden moon, that stains 440
Some gloomy chamber's window-panes
With a broad light like day.
15.
For language was in Peter's hand
Like clay while he was yet a potter;
And he made songs for all the land, 445
Sweet both to feel and understand,
As pipkins late to mountain Cotter.
16.
And Mr. —, the bookseller,
Gave twenty pounds for some;—then scorning
A footman's yellow coat to wear, 450
Peter, too proud of heart, I fear,
Instantly gave the Devil warning.
17.
Whereat the Devil took offence,
And swore in his soul a great oath then,
'That for his damned impertinence 455
He'd bring him to a proper sense
Of what was due to gentlemen!'