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Poem by John Philips The Splendid Shilling An Imitation of Milton — Sing, Heavenly Muse, Things unattempted yet in Prose or Rhime, A Shilling, Breeches, and Chimera's Dire Happy the Man, who void of Cares and Strife, In Silken or in Leathern Purse retains A splendid Shilling: he nor hears with pain New Oysters cry'd, nor sighs for cheerful Ale; But with his Friends, when nightly Mists arise, To Juniper's, or Magpye, or Town-Hall repairs: Where mindful of the Nymph, whose wanton Eye Transfix'd his Soul, and kindled Amorous Flames, Chloe or Phillis; he each Circling Glass Wisheth her Health, and Joy, and equal Love. Mean while he Smoaks, and Laughs at merry Tale, Or Pun ambiguous, or Conundrum quaint. But I whom griping Penury surrounds, And Hunger, sure Attendant upon Want, With scanty Offals, and small acid Tiff (Wretched Repast) my meager Corps sustain: Then Solitary walk, or doze at home In Garret vile, and with a warming puff Regale chill'd Fingers, or from Tube as black As Winter's Chimney, or well-polish'd Jett, Exhale Mundungus, ill-perfuming Smoak. Not blacker Tube, nor of a shorter Size Smoaks Cambro-Britain (vers'd in Pedigree, Sprung from Cadwalader and Arthur, ancient Kings, Full famous in Romantick tale) when he O're many a craggy Hill, and fruitless Cliff, Upon a Cargo of fam'd Cestrian Cheese, High over-shadowing rides, with a design To vend his Wares, or at the Arvonian Mart, Or Maridunum, or the ancient Town Hight Morgannumia, or where Vaga's Stream Encircles Ariconium, fruitful Soil, Whence flow Nectareous Wines, that well may vye With Massic, Setian, or Renown'd Falern. Thus while my joyless Hours I lingring spend, With Looks demure, and silent pace a Dunn, Horrible Monster! hated by Gods and Men, To my aerial Citadel ascends; With Vocal Heel thrice Thund'ring at my Gates, With hideous Accent thrice he calls; I know The Voice ill boding, and the solemn Sound; What shou'd I do, or whither turn? amaz'd, Confounded, to the dark Recess I fly Of Woodhole; straight my bristling Hairs erect, My Tongue forgets her Faculty of Speech, So horrible he seems; his faded Brow Entrench'd with many a Frown, and conic Beard, And spreading Band admir'd by Modern Saint Disastrous Acts forebode; in his Right hand Long Scrolls of Paper solemnly he waves, With Characters and Figures dire inscribed Grievous to mortal Eye, (ye Gods avert Such plagues from righteous men) behind him stalks Another Monster, not unlike himself, Of Aspect sullen, by the Vulgar called A Catchpole, whose polluted hands the Gods With Force incredible, and Magic Charms Erst have indu'd, if he his ample Palm Should haply on ill-fated Shoulder lay Of Debtor, straight his Body to the touch Obsequious (as Whilom Knights were wont) To some enchanted Castle is convey'd, Where Gates impregnable, and coercive Charms In durance vile detain him, till in form Of Money, Pallas set the Captive free. Beware, ye Debtors, when ye walk, beware, Be circumspect; oft with insidious Ken, This Caitiff eyes your steps aloof, and oft Lies perdue in a Creek or gloomy Cave, Prompt to enchant some inadvertent wretch With his unhallow'd Touch. So (Poets sing) Grimalkin to Domestick Vermin sworn An everlasting Foe, with watchful eye, Lyes nightly brooding ore a chinky gap, Protending her fell claws, to thoughtless Mice Sure Ruin. So her disembowell'd Web The Spider in a Hall or Kitchin spreads, Obvious to vagrant Flies: she secret stands Within her woven Cell; the Humming Prey Regardless of their Fate, rush on the toils Inextricable, nor will ought avail Their Arts nor Arms, nor Shapes of lovely Hue, The Wasp insidious, and the buzzing Drone, And Butterfly proud of expanded wings Distinct with Gold, entangled in her Snares, Useless resistance make: with eager strides, She tow'ring flies to her expected Spoils; Then with envenom'd Jaws the vital Blood Drinks of reluctant Foes, and to her Cave Their bulky Carcasses triumphant drags. So pass my days. But when Nocturnal Shades This World invelop, and th' inclement Air Perswades Men to repel benumbing Frosts, With pleasant Wines, and crackling blaze of Wood; Me lonely sitting, nor the glimmering Light Of make-weight Candle, nor the joyous talk Of lovely friend delights; distress'd, forlorn, Amidst the horrors of the tedious night, Darkling I sigh, and feed with dismal Thoughts My anxious Mind; or sometimes mournful Verse Indite, and sing of Groves and Myrtle Shades, Or desperate Lady near a purling stream, Or Lover pendent on a Willow-tree: Mean while I labour with eternal drought, And restless wish, in vain, my parched Throat Finds no relief, nor heavy eyes repose: But if a Slumber haply do's invade My weary Limbs, my Fancy still awake, Longing for Drink, and eager in my Dream, Tipples Imaginary Pots of Ale. Awake, I find the setled Thirst— Still gnawing, and the pleasant Phantom curse. Thus do I live from Pleasure quite debarr'd, Nor tast the Fruits that the Sun's genial Rays Mature, John-apple nor the Downy Peach, Nor Walnut in rough-furrow'd Coat secure, Nor Medlar Fruit delicious in decay; Afflictions great, yet greater still remain, My Galligaskins that have long withstood The Winter's Fury, and encroaching Frosts, By time subdu'd, (what will not time subdue!) A horrid Chasm disclose, with Orifice Wide discontinuous; at which the Winds Eurus and Auster, and the dreadful force Of Boreas, that congeals the Cronian Waves, Tumultuous enter with dire chilling Blasts, Portending Agues. Thus a well-fraught Ship Long sail'd secure, or through a Egean Deep, Or the Ionian, till Crusing near The Lilybean Shoar, with hideous Crush On Scylla or Charibdis dangerous Rocks She strikes rebounding, whence the shatter'd Oak, So fierce a Shock unable to withstand, Admits the Sea, in at the gaping Side, The crouding Waves gush with impetuous Rage Resistless overwhelming; Horrors seize The Mariners, Death in their eyes appears, They stare, they lave, they pump, they swear, they pray: Vain Efforts, still the battering Waves rush in Implacable, till delug'd by the foam, The Ship sinks found'ring in the vast Abyss. FINIS. John Philips 2388 Views |
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