STILL IN THE WRONG.
I.
It has long been my fate to be thought in the wrong,
And my fate it continues to be;
The wise and the wealthy still make it their song,
And the clerk and the cottar agree.
There is nothing I do, and there 's nothing I say,
But some one or other thinks wrong;
And to please them I find there is no other way,
But do nothing, and still hold my tongue.
II.
Says the free-thinking Sophist, "The times are refined
In sense to a wondrous degree;
Your old-fashion'd faith does but fetter the mind,
And it 's wrong not to seek to be free."
Says the sage Politician, "Your natural share
Of talents would raise you much higher,
Than thus to crawl on in your present low sphere,
And it 's wrong in you not to aspire."
III.
Says the Man of the World, "Your dull stoic life
Is surely deserving of blame?
You have children to care for, as well as a wife,
And it 's wrong not to lay up for them."
Says the fat Gormandiser, "To eat and to drink
Is the true summum bonum of man:
Life is nothing without it, whate'er you may think,
And it 's wrong not to live while you can."
IV.
Says the new-made Divine, "Your old modes we reject,
Nor give ourselves trouble about them:
It is manners and dress that procure us respect,
And it 's wrong to look for it without them."
Says the grave peevish Saint, in a fit of the spleen,
"Ah! me, but your manners are vile:
A parson that 's blythe is a shame to be seen,
And it 's wrong in you even to smile."