Poetical Works by Charles Churchill Part 14

Not so the king--with anxious cares oppress'd His bosom labours, and admits not rest: A glorious wretch, he sweats beneath the weight Of majesty, and gives up ease for state.

E'en when his smiles, which, by the fools of pride, Are treasured and preserved from side to side, 150 Fly round the court, e'en when, compell'd by form, He seems most calm, his soul is in a storm.

Care, like a spectre, seen by him alone, With all her nest of vipers, round his throne By day crawls full in view; when Night bids sleep, Sweet nurse of Nature! o'er the senses creep; When Misery herself no more complains, And slaves, if possible, forget their chains; Though his sense weakens, though his eyes grow dim, That rest which comes to all, comes not to him. 160 E'en at that hour, Care, tyrant Care, forbids The dew of sleep to fall upon his lids; From night to night she watches at his bed; Now, as one moped, sits brooding o'er his head; Anon she starts, and, borne on raven's wings, Croaks forth aloud--'Sleep was not made for kings!'

Thrice hath the moon, who governs this vast ball, Who rules most absolute o'er me and all; To whom, by full conviction taught to bow, At new, at full, I pay the duteous vow; 170 Thrice hath the moon her wonted course pursued, Thrice hath she lost her form, and thrice renew'd, Since, (bless'd be that season, for before I was a mere, mere mortal, and no more, One of the herd, a lump of common clay, Inform'd with life, to die and pa.s.s away) Since I became a king, and Gotham's throne, With full and ample power, became my own; Thrice hath the moon her wonted course pursued, Thrice hath she lost her form, and thrice renew'd, 180 Since sleep, kind sleep! who like a friend supplies New vigour for new toil, hath closed these eyes.

Nor, if my toils are answer'd with success, And I am made an instrument to bless The people whom I love, shall I repine; Theirs be the benefit, the labour mine.

Mindful of that high rank in which I stand, Of millions lord, sole ruler in the land, Let me,--and Reason shall her aid afford,-- Rule my own spirit, of myself be lord. 190 With an ill grace that monarch wears his crown, Who, stern and hard of nature, wears a frown 'Gainst faults in other men, yet all the while Meets his own vices with a partial smile.

How can a king (yet on record we find Such kings have been, such curses of mankind) Enforce that law 'gainst some poor subject elf Which conscience tells him he hath broke himself?

Can he some petty rogue to justice call For robbing one, when he himself robs all? 200 Must not, unless extinguish'd, Conscience fly Into his cheek, and blast his fading eye, To scourge the oppressor, when the State, distress'd And sunk to ruin, is by him oppress'd?

Against himself doth he not sentence give; If one must die, t' other's not fit to live.

Weak is that throne, and in itself unsound, Which takes not solid virtue for its ground.

All envy power in others, and complain Of that which they would perish to obtain. 210 Nor can those spirits, turbulent and bold, Not to be awed by threats, nor bought with gold, Be hush'd to peace, but when fair legal sway Makes it their real interest to obey; When kings, and none but fools can then rebel, Not less in virtue, than in power, excel.

Be that my object, that my constant care, And may my soul's best wishes centre there; Be it my task to seek, nor seek in vain, Not only how to live, but how to reign; 220 And to those virtues which from Reason spring, And grace the man, join those which grace the king.

First, (for strict duty bids my care extend And reach to all who on that care depend, Bids me with servants keep a steady hand, And watch o'er all my proxies in the land) First, (and that method Reason shall support) Before I look into, and purge my court, Before I cleanse the stable of the State, Let me fix things which to myself relate. 230 That done, and all accounts well settled here, In resolution firm, in honour clear, Tremble, ye slaves! who dare abuse your trust, Who dare be villains, when your king is just.

Are there, amongst those officers of state, To whom our sacred power we delegate, Who hold our place and office in the realm, Who, in our name commission'd, guide the helm; Are there, who, trusting to our love of ease, Oppress our subjects, wrest our just decrees, 240 And make the laws, warp'd from their fair intent, To speak a language which they never meant; Are there such men, and can the fools depend On holding out in safety to their end?

Can they so much, from thoughts of danger free, Deceive themselves, so much misdeem of me, To think that I will prove a statesman's tool, And live a stranger where I ought to rule?

What! to myself and to my state unjust, Shall I from ministers take things on trust, 250 And, sinking low the credit of my throne, Depend upon dependants of my own?

Shall I,--most certain source of future cares,-- Not use my judgment, but depend on theirs?

Shall I, true puppet-like, be mock'd with state, Have nothing but the name of being great; Attend at councils which I must not weigh; Do what they bid, and what they dictate, say; Enrobed, and hoisted up into my chair, Only to be a royal cipher there? 260 Perish the thought--'tis treason to my throne-- And who but thinks it, could his thoughts be known Insults me more than he, who, leagued with h.e.l.l, Shall rise in arms, and 'gainst my crown rebel.

The wicked statesman, whose false heart pursues A train of guilt; who acts with double views, And wears a double face; whose base designs Strike at his monarch's throne; who undermines E'en whilst he seems his wishes to support; Who seizes all departments; packs a court; 270 Maintains an agent on the judgment-seat, To screen his crimes, and make his frauds complete; New-models armies, and around the throne Will suffer none but creatures of his own, Conscious of such his baseness, well may try, Against the light to shut his master's eye, To keep him coop'd, and far removed from those Who, brave and honest, dare his crimes disclose, Nor ever let him in one place appear, Where truth, unwelcome truth, may wound his ear. 280 Attempts like these, well weigh'd, themselves proclaim, And, whilst they publish, balk their author's aim.

Kings must be blind into such snares to run, Or, worse, with open eyes must be undone.

The minister of honesty and worth Demands the day to bring his actions forth; Calls on the sun to s.h.i.+ne with fiercer rays, And braves that trial which must end in praise.

None fly the day, and seek the shades of night, But those whose actions cannot bear the light; 290 None wish their king in ignorance to hold But those who feel that knowledge must unfold Their hidden guilt; and, that dark mist dispell'd By which their places and their lives are held, Confusion wait them, and, by Justice led, In vengeance fall on every traitor's head.

Aware of this, and caution'd 'gainst the pit Where kings have oft been lost, shall I submit, And rust in chains like these? shall I give way, And whilst my helpless subjects fall a prey 300 To power abused, in ignorance sit down, Nor dare a.s.sert the honour of my crown?

When stern Rebellion, (if that odious name Justly belongs to those whose only aim, Is to preserve their country; who oppose, In honour leagued, none but their country's foes; Who only seek their own, and found their cause In due regard for violated laws) When stern Rebellion, who no longer feels Nor fears rebuke, a nation at her heels, 310 A nation up in arms, though strong not proud, Knocks at the palace gate, and, calling loud For due redress, presents, from Truth's fair pen, A list of wrongs, not to be borne by men: How must that king be humbled, how disgrace All that is royal in his name and place, Who, thus call'd forth to answer, can advance No other plea but that of ignorance!

A vile defence, which, was his all at stake, The meanest subject well might blush to make; 320 A filthy source, from whence shame ever springs; A stain to all, but most a stain to kings.

The soul with great and manly feelings warm'd, Panting for knowledge, rests not till inform'd; And shall not I, fired with the glorious zeal, Feel those brave pa.s.sions which my subjects feel?

Or can a just excuse from ignorance flow To me, whose first great duty is--to know?

Hence, Ignorance!--thy settled, dull, blank eye Would hurt me, though I knew no reason why. 330 Hence, Ignorance!--thy slavish shackles bind The free-born soul, and lethargise the mind.

Of thee, begot by Pride, who look'd with scorn On every meaner match, of thee was born That grave inflexibility of soul, Which Reason can't convince, nor Fear control; Which neither arguments nor prayers can reach, And nothing less than utter ruin teach.

Hence, Ignorance!--hence to that depth of night Where thou wast born, where not one gleam of light 340 May wound thine eye--hence to some dreary cell Where monks with superst.i.tion love to dwell; Or in some college soothe thy lazy pride, And with the heads of colleges reside; Fit mate for Royalty thou canst not be, And if no mate for kings, no mate for me.

Come, Study! like a torrent swell'd with rains, Which, rus.h.i.+ng down the mountains, o'er the plains Spreads horror wide, and yet, in horror kind, Leaves seeds of future fruitfulness behind; 350 Come, Study!--painful though thy course, and slow, Thy real worth by thy effects we know-- Parent of Knowledge, come!--Not thee I call, Who, grave and dull, in college or in hall Dost sit, all solemn sad, and moping weigh Things which, when found, thy labours can't repay-- Nor, in one hand, fit emblem of thy trade, A rod; in t' other, gaudily array'd, A hornbook gilt and letter'd, call I thee, Who dost in form preside o'er A, B, C: 360 Nor (siren though thou art, and thy strange charms, As 'twere by magic, lure men to thine arms) Do I call thee, who, through a winding maze, A labyrinth of puzzling, pleasing ways, Dost lead us at the last to those rich plains, Where, in full glory, real Science reigns; Fair though thou art, and lovely to mine eye, Though full rewards in thy possession lie To crown man's wish, and do thy favourites grace; Though (was I station'd in an humbler place) 370 I could be ever happy in thy sight, Toil with thee all the day, and through the night, Toil on from watch to watch, bidding my eye, Fast rivetted on Science, sleep defy; Yet (such the hards.h.i.+ps which from empire flow) Must I thy sweet society forego, And to some happy rival's arms resign Those charms which can, alas! no more be mine!

No more from hour to hour, from day to day, Shall I pursue thy steps, and urge my way 380 Where eager love of science calls; no more Attempt those paths which man ne'er trod before; No more, the mountain scaled, the desert cross'd, Losing myself, nor knowing I was lost, Travel through woods, through wilds, from morn to night, From night to morn, yet travel with delight, And having found thee, lay me down content, Own all my toil well paid, my time well spent.

Farewell, ye Muses too!--for such mean things Must not presume to dwell with mighty kings-- 390 Farewell, ye Muses! though it cuts my heart E'en to the quick, we must for ever part.

When the fresh morn bade l.u.s.ty Nature wake; When the birds, sweetly twittering through the brake, Tune their soft pipes; when, from the neighbouring bloom Sipping the dew, each zephyr stole perfume; When all things with new vigour were inspired, And seem'd to say they never could be tired; How often have we stray'd, whilst sportive rhyme Deceived the way and clipp'd the wings of Time, 400 O'er hill, o'er dale; how often laugh'd to see, Yourselves made visible to none but me, The clown, his works suspended, gape and stare, And seem to think that I conversed with air!

When the sun, beating on the parched soil, Seem'd to proclaim an interval of toil; When a faint langour crept through every breast, And things most used to labour wish'd for rest, How often, underneath a reverend oak, Where safe, and fearless of the impious stroke, 410 Some sacred Dryad lived; or in some grove, Where, with capricious fingers, Fancy wove Her fairy bower, whilst Nature all the while Look'd on, and view'd her mockeries with a smile, Have we held converse sweet! How often laid, Fast by the Thames, in Ham's inspiring shade, Amongst those poets which make up your train, And, after death, pour forth the sacred strain, Have I, at your command, in verse grown gray, But not impair'd, heard Dryden tune that lay 420 Which might have drawn an angel from his sphere, And kept him from his office listening here!

When dreary Night, with Morpheus in her train, Led on by Silence to resume her reign, With darkness covering, as with a robe, The scene of levity, blank'd half the globe; How oft, enchanted with your heavenly strains, Which stole me from myself; which in soft chains Of music bound my soul; how oft have I, Sounds more than human floating through the sky, 430 Attentive sat, whilst Night, against her will, Transported with the harmony, stood still!

How oft in raptures, which man scarce could bear, Have I, when gone, still thought the Muses there; Still heard their music, and, as mute as death, Sat all attention, drew in every breath, Lest, breathing all too rudely, I should wound, And mar that magic excellence of sound; Then, Sense returning with return of day, Have chid the Night, which fled so fast away! 440 Such my pursuits, and such my joys of yore, Such were my mates, but now my mates no more.

Placed out of Envy's walk, (for Envy, sure, Would never haunt the cottage of the poor, Would never stoop to wound my homespun lays) With some few friends, and some small share of praise, Beneath oppression, undisturb'd by strife, In peace I trod the humble vale of life.

Farewell, these scenes of ease, this tranquil state; Welcome the troubles which on empire wait! 450 Light toys from this day forth I disavow; They pleased me once, but cannot suit me now: To common men all common things are free, What honours them, might fix disgrace on me.

Call'd to a throne, and o'er a mighty land Ordain'd to rule, my head, my heart, my hand, Are all engross'd; each private view withstood, And task'd to labour for the public good: Be this my study; to this one great end May every thought, may every action tend! 460 Let me the page of History turn o'er, The instructive page, and needfully explore What faithful pens of former times have wrote Of former kings; what they did worthy note, What worthy blame; and from the sacred tomb Where righteous monarchs sleep, where laurels bloom, Unhurt by Time, let me a garland twine, Which, robbing not their fame, may add to mine.

Nor let me with a vain and idle eye Glance o'er those scenes, and in a hurry fly, 470 Quick as the post, which travels day and night; Nor let me dwell there, lured by false delight; And, into barren theory betray'd, Forget that monarchs are for action made.

When amorous Spring, repairing all his charms, Calls Nature forth from h.o.a.ry Winter's arms, Where, like a virgin to some lecher sold, Three wretched months she lay benumb'd, and cold; When the weak flower, which, shrinking from the breath Of the rude North, and timorous of death, 480 To its kind mother earth for shelter fled, And on her bosom hid its tender head, Peeps forth afresh, and, cheer'd by milder sties, Bids in full splendour all her beauties rise; The hive is up in arms--expert to teach, Nor, proudly, to be taught unwilling, each Seems from her fellow a new zeal to catch; Strength in her limbs, and on her wings dispatch, The bee goes forth; from herb to herb she flies, From flower to flower, and loads her labouring thighs 490 With treasured sweets, robbing those flowers, which, left, Find not themselves made poorer by the theft, Their scents as lively, and their looks as fair, As if the pillager had not been there.

Ne'er doth she flit on Pleasure's silken wing; Ne'er doth she, loitering, let the bloom of Spring Unrifled pa.s.s, and on the downy breast Of some fair flower indulge untimely rest; Ne'er doth she, drinking deep of those rich dews Which chemist Night prepared, that faith abuse 500 Due to the hive, and, selfish in her toils, To her own private use convert the spoils.

Love of the stock first call'd her forth to roam, And to the stock she brings her booty home.

Be this my pattern--as becomes a king, Let me fly all abroad on Reason's wing; Let mine eye, like the lightning, through the earth Run to and fro, nor let one deed of worth, In any place and time, nor let one man, Whose actions may enrich dominion's plan, 510 Escape my note; be all, from the first day Of Nature to this hour, be all my prey.

From those whom Time, at the desire of Fame, Hath spared, let Virtue catch an equal flame; From those who, not in mercy, but in rage, Time hath reprieved, to d.a.m.n from age to age, Let me take warning, lesson'd to distil, And, imitating Heaven, draw good from ill.

Nor let these great researches, in my breast A monument of useless labour rest; 520 No--let them spread--the effects let Gotham share, And reap the harvest of their monarch's care: Be other times, and other countries known, Only to give fresh blessings to my own.

Let me, (and may that G.o.d to whom I fly, On whom for needful succour I rely In this great hour, that glorious G.o.d of truth, Through whom I reign, in mercy to my youth, a.s.sist my weakness, and direct me right; From every speck which hangs upon the sight 530 Purge my mind's eye, nor let one cloud remain To spread the shades of Error o'er my brain!) Let me, impartial, with unwearied thought, Try men and things; let me, as monarchs ought, Examine well on what my power depends; What are the general principles and ends Of government; how empire first began; And wherefore man was raised to reign o'er man.

Let me consider, as from one great source We see a thousand rivers take their course, 540 Dispersed, and into different channels led, Yet by their parent still supplied and fed, That Government, (though branch'd out far and wide, In various modes to various lands applied) Howe'er it differs in its outward frame, In the main groundwork's every where the same; The same her view, though different her plan, Her grand and general view--the good of man.

Let me find out, by Reason's sacred beams, What system in itself most perfect seems, 550 Most worthy man, most likely to conduce To all the purposes of general use; Let me find, too, where, by fair Reason tried, It fails, when to particulars applied; Why in that mode all nations do not join, And, chiefly, why it cannot suit with mine.

Let me the gradual rise of empires trace, Till they seem founded on Perfection's base; Then (for when human things have made their way To excellence, they hasten to decay) 560 Let me, whilst Observation lends her clue Step after step to their decline pursue, Enabled by a chain of facts to tell Not only how they rose, but why they fell.

Let me not only the distempers know Which in all states from common causes grow, But likewise those, which, by the will of Fate, On each peculiar mode of empire wait; Which in its very const.i.tution lurk, Too sure at last to do its destined work: 570 Let me, forewarn'd, each sign, each symptom learn, That I my people's danger may discern, Ere 'tis too late wish'd health to rea.s.sure, And, if it can be found, find out a cure.

Let me, (though great, grave brethren of the gown Preach all Faith up, and preach all Reason down, Making those jar whom Reason meant to join, And vesting in themselves a right divine), Let me, through Reason's gla.s.s, with searching eye, Into the depth of that religion pry 580 Which law hath sanction'd; let me find out there What's form, what's essence; what, like vagrant air, We well may change; and what, without a crime, Cannot be changed to the last hour of time.

Nor let me suffer that outrageous zeal Which, without knowledge, furious bigots feel, Fair in pretence, though at the heart unsound, These separate points at random to confound.

The times have been when priests have dared to tread, Proud and insulting, on their monarch's head; 590 When, whilst they made religion a pretence, Out of the world they banish'd common-sense; When some soft king, too open to deceit, Easy and unsuspecting join'd the cheat, Duped by mock piety, and gave his name To serve the vilest purposes of shame.

Pear not, my people! where no cause of fear Can justly rise--your king secures you here; Your king, who scorns the haughty prelate's nod, Nor deems the voice of priests the voice of G.o.d. 600 Let me, (though lawyers may perhaps forbid Their monarch to behold what they wish hid, And for the purposes of knavish gain, Would have their trade a mystery remain) Let me, disdaining all such slavish awe, Dive to the very bottom of the law; Let me (the weak, dead letter left behind) Search out the principles, the spirit find, Till, from the parts, made master of the whole, I see the Const.i.tution's very soul. 610 Let me, (though statesmen will no doubt resist, And to my eyes present a fearful list Of men, whose wills are opposite to mine, Of men, great men, determined to resign) Let me, (with firmness, which becomes a king.

Conscious from what a source my actions spring, Determined not by worlds to be withstood, When my grand object is my country's good) Unravel all low ministerial scenes, Destroy their jobs, lay bare their ways and means, 620 And track them step by step; let me well know How places, pensions, and preferments go; Why Guilt's provided for when Worth is not, And why one man of merit is forgot; Let me in peace, in war, supreme preside, And dare to know my way without a guide.

Let me, (though Dignity, by nature proud, Retires from view, and swells behind a cloud,-- As if the sun shone with less powerful ray, Less grace, less glory, s.h.i.+ning every day,-- 630 Though when she comes forth into public sight, Unbending as a ghost, she stalks upright, With such an air as we have often seen, And often laugh'd at, in a tragic queen, Nor, at her presence, though base myriads crook The supple knee, vouchsafes a single look) Let me, (all vain parade, all empty pride, All terrors of dominion laid aside, All ornament, and needless helps of art, All those big looks, which speak a little heart) 640 Know (which few kings, alas! have ever known) How Affability becomes a throne, Destroys all fear, bids Love with Reverence live, And gives those graces Pride can never give.

Let the stern tyrant keep a distant state, And, hating all men, fear return of hate, Conscious of guilt, retreat behind his throne, Secure from all upbraidings but his own: Let all my subjects have access to me, Be my ears open, as my heart is free; 650 In full fair tide let information flow; That evil is half cured, whose cause we know.

And thou, where'er thou art, thou wretched thing, Who art afraid to look up to a king, Lay by thy fears; make but thy grievance plain, And, if I not redress thee, may my reign Close up that very moment. To prevent The course of Justice from her vain intent, In vain my nearest, dearest friend shall plead, In vain my mother kneel; my soul may bleed, 660 But must not change. When Justice draws the dart, Though it is doom'd to pierce a favourite's heart, 'Tis mine to give it force, to give it aim-- I know it duty, and I feel it fame.

Footnotes:

[148] 'Gotham:' is designed as a satire on England and its kings, and as a picture of what a king of England should be. The first book is a wild and fanciful bravura.

[149] 'Mandeville:' the famous lying traveller.

[150] 'Monmouth:' in Wales, once visited, and ever afterwards hated by the poet.

[151] 'Bonnell Thornton:' author of a humorous burlesque, 'Ode on St Cecilia's Day.' See Boswell.

[152] 'William Boyce:' a celebrated musician.

[153] 'Hayman:' Francis Hayman, the painter, was monotonous in his style.

[154] 'Saint James:' The 25th of July, St James's day, or the first day of oysters.

[155] 'August:' alluding to a rowing match, held on 1st August, in honour of George the First's accession; inst.i.tuted by one Doggett, an actor, &c.

[156] 'George:' George the Second was born on the 30th of October 1683.

[157] 'Augusta:' wife of Frederic, Prince of Wales, a great friend of Lord Bute's.

[159] 'Colonel Norborne Berkeley:' second to Lord Talbot in his duel with Wilkes.

[160] 'First:' James the First.

[161] 'Blood was shed:' Secretary Cecil, who had been a bitter foe of Queen Mary, and became a favourite of James.

[162] 'False father:' alluding to the death of the very promising Prince Henry, popularly supposed to have been hated and removed by his father.

[163] 'Right Divine:' see, as a _per contra_ to this fierce invective against poor 'King Jamie,' Scott's 'Fortunes of Nigel.'

[164] 'Buckingham:' George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham.

[165] 'Woman's prate:' Henrietta, the intriguing Queen of Charles the First.

[166] 'Inglorious years:' no parliament was summoned from 1628 to 1640.