Infancy, or the management of children: a didactic poem, in six books. The fifth edition. By Hugh Downman, M.D. — Infancy.

Table of contents

- [titlepage]

- INFANCY, A DIDACTIC POEM. BOOK I. BOOK THE FIRST.

- INFANCY, A DIDACTIC POEM. BOOK II. BOOK THE SECOND.

- INFANCY, A DIDACTIC POEM. BOOK III. BOOK THE THIRD.

- INFANCY, A DIDACTIC POEM. BOOK IV. BOOK THE FOURTH.

- INFANCY, A DIDACTIC POEM. BOOK V. BOOK THE FIFTH.

- INFANCY, A DIDACTIC POEM. BOOK VI. BOOK THE SIXTH.

FINIS.

INFANCY, OR THE MANAGEMENT OF CHILDREN: A DIDACTIC POEM, IN SIX BOOKS.

THE FIFTH EDITION.

BY HUGH DOWNMAN, M.D.

EDINBURGH: PRINTED FOR J. BELL AND J. BRADFUTE; G. G. J. & J. ROBINSON; G. & T. WILKIE, AND G. KEARSLEY, LONDON. M,DCC,XC.

INFANCY, A DIDACTIC POEM. BOOK I.
BOOK THE FIRST.

ARGUMENT.

The Invocation, and Introduction.—Health is the greatest Blessing of Mankind.—It should be the chief aim of Parents to procure their Children the enjoyment of it.—Nature and Instinct therefore are to be followed. Pernicious custom of giving Children some drug soon after they are born.—The best remedy at that time, is the first milk of the Mother.—Various reasons and motives for the Mother's suckling her Children.—An amiable duty.—Apostrophe to tender affection.—Directions how to choose a Nurse, if the Mother cannot perform that office herself.—Cities destructive to Infants.—Recommendation of the Country.—The Mother should oversee the conduct of the Nurse.—The Nurse's usual manner of life should be altered as little as possible.—Address to Habit

CELESTIAL Maid! from genuine Science sprung!

Thee the pretended Sage, whose leaden eye

Inwrapt in metaphysic gloom, ne'er deigns

A cheerful smile, thee with contracted brow,

And haughty gesture, all his vassals shun:

While by the Graces drest Instruction owns

Thy guiding hand. Celestial maid attend!

Tho barren be the subject, o'er its' wilds

So may a verdure not their own be shed,

And blooming flowers. With me then turn thy sight

On the prime Infant-state of helpless Man:

On the first dawn of life, when Nature now

Ushers her tender offspring into day;

Observe the young ideas how they wake

In gradual order, till at length matured

By time, they speak a living soul within.

View too the transient flash of mirth; the ills

Not real, yet afflictive; the quick thought

For ever varying, glanced from toy to toy.

Then constant motion pleases, then the ear

Catches at every sound, the eye untired

Darts its wild ray, and every object thrills

The new-born sense with joy. Come Virgin, teach

How on the government of these first years

Depends the future Man; no vulgar theme,

No fruitless task, experiencing thy aid.

WE write to reason: Hence ye doating train

Of Midwives and of Nurses ignorant!

Old Beldames grey, in error positive,

And stiff in prejudice, whose fatal care

Oft death attends, or a life worse than death.

O YOUTH, whoe'er thou art, to beauty's charms

A slave, to all that inexpressive grace

Which native modesty and truth bestows

On their more beauteous minds, and which exalts

Britannia's Daughters o'er the female world!

Is thy Beloved propitious? Doth the god

Kindle his nuptial torch? And dost thou wish

The name of Father, amiable, humane?

To view thy little Progeny around

Happy, well-formed, and strong? Attend the Muse:

Th' instructive Muse shall teach thee to obtain

Thy heart's desire. And say, wilt thou fair Nymph,

Complacent heed with favourable eye

The moral lay, refined and pure? To thee

Custom hath given, while active life shall call

Thy Husband forth amid its boist'rous walks,

Domestic rule: Thine is the nursery's charge;

Important trust! from him what absence hides,

Thy constant anxious care shall well supply.

HEALTH is the greatest blessing Man receives

From bounteous Heaven; by her the smiling hours

Are wing'd with transport; she too gives the soul

Of firmness; without her the hand of toil

Would languid sink; the eye of reason fade.

To this then bend thy care, O Parent Mind;

Array thy Child in health; a nobler dress

Not gorgeous Majesty can boast; the thanks

Of future gratitude thou wilt receive,

More than around him from thy treasured hoard

Then showering sums profuse; or giving all

Thy herds, and bleating flocks; tho thousands range

Thy spacious meads, or cloath thy ample hills.

WOULD'ST thou thy children blest? The sacred voice

Of Nature calls thee; where she points the way

Tread confident. No labyrinth is here;

No clue of Ariadne wilt thou need,

To Theseus given; Fair is her open path,

And strong the steady light she casts around,

Instinctive light, the surest safest guide.

THY Child is born. See, where the treacherous nurse,

Or Priestess of Lucina, in her hand

The ready medicine brings! Forewarned, beware;

Within the fatal drug lurks death; by this

Thousands from yet untasted life retire,

Thousands of infant souls; yet sanctified

By custom, other reasons are assign'd

And Nature is accused of impious deeds

She ne'er committed. Nature will preserve

Whate'er she frames: and what the Child requires

In his new state, sagaciously provides,

Both food and remedy: Before the sun

Hath from his birth encircled half the sphere,

He asks, plain as expressive signs can ask,

The Mother's breast: Without a moment's pause

Hear the mute voice of instinct and obey.

Know the first efflux from the milky fount

Is Nature's chymic mixture, which no power

Of Art presumptuous can supply; this flows

Gently detersive, purifying, bland;

This each impediment o'ercomes, and gives

The young, unfetter'd springs of life to play.

Hence too the Mother is secure: The streams

Her Infant's health promoting, flow to her

Salubrious; otherwise confined, or urged

Back to their source, what evils may she dread!

Sickness, and giddy languor, shivering cold,

And heat alternate, dire obstructions, pangs

Of sharpest torture, cancers, by the juice

Of boasted hemlock not to be removed.

O MOTHER, (let me by that tenderest name

Conjure thee) still pursue the task begun;

Nor unless urged by strong necessity,

Some fated, some peculiar circumstance,

By which thy health may suffer, or thy child

Suck in disease, or that the genial food

Too scanty flows, give to an Alien's care

Thy orphan Babe. Oh! if by choice thou dost—

What shall I call thee? Woman? No, tho fair

Thy face, and deckt with unimagined charms,

Tho sweetness seem pourtray'd in every line,

And smiles which might become a Hebe, rise

At will, crisping thy rosy cheeks, tho all

That's lovely, kind, attractive, elegant,

Dwell in thy outward shape, and catch the eye

Of gazing rapture, all is but deceit;

The form of Woman's thine, but not the soul.

Had'st thou been treated thus, perchance the prey

Of death long since, no child of thine had known

An equal lot severe. O unblown Flower!

Soft bud of Spring! Planted in foreign soil

How wilt thou prosper! Brush'd by other winds

In a new clime, and fed by other dews

Than suit thy Nature! From a stranger hand

Ah, what can Infancy expect, when she

Whose essence was inwove with thine, whose life,

Whose soul thou didst participate, neglects

Herself in thee, and breaks the strongest seal

Which Nature stamp'd in vain upon her heart.

O LUCKLESS Babe, born in an evil hour!

Who shall thy numerous wants attend? explore

The latent cause of ill? thy slumbers guard?

And when awake, with nice sedulity

Thy every glance observe? A parent might;

A Hireling cannot; tho of blameless mind,

Tho conscious duty prompt her to the task,

She feels not in her breast th' impulsive goad

Of instinct, all the fond, the fearful thoughts

Awakening: Say, at length that habit's power

Can something like maternal kindness give,

Yet, ere that time, may the poor nursling die.

BESIDES, who can assure the lacteal springs

Clear, and untained? Oft disorder lurks

Beneath the vivid bloom, and cheerful eye,

Promising health; and poisonous juice secrete,

Slow undermining life, stains what should be

The purest nutriment. Hence, worse than death,

Long years of misery to thy blasted child.

A burthen to himself, by others shunn'd,

He wishes for the grave, and wastes his days

In solitary woe; or haply weds,

And propagates th' hereditary plague;

Entailing on his name the bitter curse

Of generations yet unborn, a race

Pithless, and weak, of faded texture, wan;

Like some declining plant, with mildew'd leaves,

Whose root a treacherous insect gnaws unseen.

BUT, whether lost in pleasure, in the round

Of modish life, and dissipation gay,

Misnamed polite, the welfare of her child

The fair Barbarian looks on with an eye

Distant, and cold; or imitating her,

As faults of higher station always gain

Partial abettors, the neglected muse

Hath to the parent in life's middle rank

Tuned her unfructuous lay; she shall not cease

Desponding, weightier arguments for them,

More strenuous, more coercive she can bring,

To which perhaps self-interested love

Will ope their listening sense. Of mental joys

And pure delight, they would not understand,

Or relish the description. But if health

They covet, nor before the genial prime

Wish the stern Fates to cut their vital thread,

Those hearts may prove susceptible of fear,

Which instinct, love, and duty could despise.

Nor seek We fabled incidents, to strike

With superstitious dread the mind, but truth,

Plain, honest truth, inspires the homely song.

SHE who refuses to her Young One's lip

Her swelling bosom, each returning year

Conceives, and each returning year sustains

The pangs of child-birth. Harass'd by fatigue,

The strongest constitution droops; but soon

The weaker system, like a blighted flower,

Falls underneath the shock. The nursing time

Was meant by wisest Nature, as a stay,

A vacant interspace, in which the nerves,

And threads of life unstrung, might re-assume

Their native tone, endued again with strength,

And corresponding freedom, to support

The day of toil: As a sure medicine,

To root out many an illness, else untamed,

From the soft female frame: T'invigorate

The fragile texture, and with grateful force

Astringe the fibres, morbid and relax'd.

But if not e'en these motives can persuade;

T' improve her charms, new beauties to possess,

Is Woman's utmost wish. View then the Fair,

Who to this sweet employment turns her mind!

Delighted Health sits on her polish'd brow,

And shews the veins beneath? Spreads o'er her cheek

The vermil glow; her eyes with lustre fills;

Decks her with radiant smiles, and all her form

With grace ineffable, and comeliness

Invests. Enough of these—The Muse beholds

With rapture some of other kind—Oh! hail

Ye real Mothers! Ye whose hearts are full

Of sensibility! Who highly pleased,

Would not, for all the gewgaws Pride can boast,

Loosen the magic knot, which joins in one

Your Babes and you; or see a Hireling share

The love, which to a Mother sole belongs.

O Thou, to whom, one of this pious train,

I with esteem and veneration bend!

Lead on with decent step, uncheck'd by fear,

To those domestic haunts, where peace expands

Her wings, and Harmony delighted dwells.

Let me behold thee, rivet thy fix'd eye

On the young infant Form, then press it close,

Glose to thy throbbing heart, then on it's lips

A thousand kisses print, thy eyes with joy

O'erslowing, in each feature nicely scann'd

Tracing the dear resemblance of it's fire.

And lo! where pleased, beyond expression pleased,

To see thee in the sweetest task employ'd

Of female duty, where thy Husband hangs

Enamour'd o'er thy bosom! not the night

Which gave thee to his arms, bestow'd a joy

To this superior; thrilling to the mind,

Sincere, and home-felt. O true name of love,

Tender Affection! Genuine Source of bliss

Immaculate, and pure! The transient blaze

Of passion soon subsides, thy steadier fire

Time but increases! Soft coercive band,

Connecting souls! Without thee, what is life!

Mild Halcyon of the breast, whose summer wing

Calms every raging storm! To thee the wise,

The good still offer incense; all who bear

No sordid stains; nor any but the dull,

Or grovelling, in her parsimonious mood

By nature form'd, or whom with iron hand

Tyrannic Custom rules, despise thy sway.

THRICE happy She, by inclination led,

By nought with-held, to add this pleasing link,

This heart-endearing bond, to the sweet ties

Of married love! But should'st thou e'er be doom'd

Votaress of truth and virtue, to resist

Th' attractive warmth by their eternal hands

Implanted; to resist the liberal call

Of duty and desire; condemned by ails

From causes unforeseen to tear the Pledge

From thy fond bosom; while thy sickening heart

Bleeds at the thought, condemn'd another's care

T' invoke for him, the Babe, thy straining eyes

Gaze on with nameless pleasure: Let my lay

Direct thy choice for the momentous task

Whom to retain, what Parent to adopt

For thy unconscious young one; for from her

Not only nutriment perhaps he takes,

To life and growth subservient, but who knows

How far the stamina yet unevolved,

How far the soul herself as yet unformed,

For texture, vigour, passions, intellect,

On this thy act depend? Far from the bounds

Of the rank city, let some trusty Friend

Explore the straw-rooft cott; there, firm of nerve

Her blood from every grosser particle,

By hardy labour, and abstemious Fare,

Sublimed; the honest peasant's mate shall ope

Her hospitable arms, receive with joy

The infant Stranger, and profusely yield

Her pure balsamic nurture to his lip.

But since the keenest eye may be deceived,

And vice will lurk amid the country haunts

To innocence devoted, it were meet

T' investigate among the village Tribe

Their Neighbour's mode of life. Heeds she the laws

Of matron-like sobriety? Her fame,

Is it from all suspicion clear? Her soul,

To wedlock true? Feels she a Parent's love?

To her own Offspring tenderly benign?

Does she her husband's constant heart possess?

Nor seeks he foreign pleasure? Every doubt

Extinguish'd here; still curiously persist,

Nor terminate thy search; examine round

Her little mansion, see if there, in spite

Of poverty, the step of cleanliness,

Attractive Nymph, unhesitating treads.

Her age too claims thy notice; let not time

On restless wing have stolen from her face

The bloom -of youth, nor be she green in years.

For torpid, or impaired by frequent use,

The flexile vessels which convolved in maze

Wrapp'd within maze, secrete the purer stream,

Their office will more sparingly perform,

Or less nutritious particles supply.

And if thy nurse be young, the thoughtful mind

Of prudence, would not to her charge confide

What claims exactest assiduity,

And serious vigilance. There are who think

Too subtile in their theory, the Nurse

Should with the Mother aptly coincide

In age and temperament; but heeding well

The precepts we have given, thou may'st neglect

Such trivial niceness; Health from each extreme

Removed, is not to colour of the hair,

Or to complexion tinged with red or brown

Consined: Excess thou should'st indeed avoid

Of plump or lean, nor would I choose th' adust

And highly bilious, or the sable hue

Of clouded melancholy. Be it then

Thy primal care to fix on vigorous health

Adorn'd with smiles, the lovely progeny

Of constant cheerfulness, and sweet content.

Nor would I (tho confest a quality

Inferior in it's kind) not prize the voice

From harshness free, whose soft tone can compose

The froward Babe, or gently bid it wake,

And view the young-eyed morn. O thou, who help'st

To throng the crowded Town, restrain'd by force

Within that court of death, where every gale

Is tainted with pollution; did the Muse

If some sad cause forbade thee to pursue

The Mother's genuine office, to the fields

Serene, and rural Lares order forth

Thy tender Infant? not from needless fears

And vain precaution, did she dare to thwart

The dictates of humanity. She sees,

What do not to thy eye perhaps appear,

The dreadful train of ills, which swarm within

Th' unhallow'd precincts. Well she knows how few

Out of the many myriads city-born

Survive, in just proportion scann'd with those

Who bask in freer day. Yet, much avails

A Parent's unabating love, and sharp

Is absence to the soul. But can'st thou purge

Th' unwholesome atmosphere, gravid with seeds

Of latent sickness? Suffocation fell,

Angina, Apthous Sores, Eruptions dire,

Pertussis sierce, and squalid Atrophy?

Say, can'st thou bid the flagging South speed by,

Nor stagnant, o'er his much-loved mansion brood

With darkening plume, of poison and of death

Prolific? When each danger I review,

Shudd'ring with fear, I scarce would bid thee prove

The Nurse's task, tho nought should intervene

Of fatal accident, and thou art bound

By every tie of nature to the deed.

For can'st thou round thy Infant's brow entwine

A magic wreath? Or cause an Angel lift

His shielding arm? Thou can'st not: Follow then

The precepts of experience; yet let oft

Maternal fondness guide thee to the place

Where rests the little sojourner, there view

How cherish'd, how improved, and lingering chide

The rapid step of still-progressive time,

Which hurries thee reluctantly away.

BUT can the Mother change unblamed the town,

For some sequester'd villa? What denies,

Her bed of sickness quitted, to retreat

And seek the haunts, where Peace on flowers reclined

Lists to the warbling songster of the grove?

Or from the gently-rising hill surveys

The grazing herds, and rivulet which winds

Meand'ring thro the distant vale? Where Health

Sports on the level green, and young delight

Smiling attends: Where bounteous Nature sheds

Her choicest blessings, and with guardian wing

Protects her favourite progeny. Retire,

My fair Disciple, haste to scenes like these,

And underneath thy roof invite to dwell

The Fosterer of thy child. Despise, with me,

Th' insipid train of vanity and pride;

The foppery of custom; quaint parade

Of ceremonial visit; idle farce

Of masquerade, or ball, where real joy

Ne'er entered; conversations gayly dull,

Unblest by exiled friendship; glare of courts;

And mummery of the Great. Be't thine to walk

With Reason, and enjoy th' harmonious voice

Of conscious Rectitude, whose soothing strain

Can lift the soul beyond what vulgar thought

Can distantly imagine. If thou must

Require another's aid thy place to fill,

Her conduct thou direct, and regulate

The manner of her life, a pleasure this

Inferior, yet affording ample room

To gratify the smer nerve of love.

To see thy Substitute at stated times

The life-sustaining food supply, to mark

How thrives her young Dependent, and each day

Appears addition manifest to gain

In size and stature, while his eyes beam forth,

At least to Fancy's peering search, the dawn

Of future reason, and intelligence.

HERE, as in all things, Nature opens wide

Her page instructive. Did'st thou not behold

How in her homely dwelling, Health imbued

With reseate tint the cheeks, and firmly strung

The muscles of her elder boy thy Nurse

Hath left behind? She was not surfeited

With dainty cates, and high luxurious fare

When him she suckled; never did a draught

Stronger than water pass her thirsty lip;

Pernicious ale she knew not. When released

From short confinement, to her various wants

No Friend, no Servant minister'd; her Babe

She fill'd, then gave up to the soft embrace

Of sleep; meanwhile no sedentary life

She led, she spun the woof, in order meet

She set her cott, the viands she prepared,

With which at even-tide to welcome home

The Husband whom she loved: Or in her arms

Bearing her grateful burthen, out she hied,

Braving the summer's heat, or winter's cold,

And as she walk'd, caroll'd th' incondite lay

Of rustic merriment. Seek not to change

Her usual regimen, for if thou dost,

Should she escape the fever which impends,

Expect thy Child, attack'd by cholic pangs,

To writhe in torture, or perhaps at once

Convulsions sierce shall snatch him from the world.

For now her stomach, which from diet hard,

By habit's force, and potent exercise

Elaborated chyle of blandest sort,

Oppress'd by crudities, corrupts the blood

With viscid recrement. Or else the Brain,

That source of motion, urged by sympathy,

Creates new impulses of morbid kind

The vital threads affecting, and from thence

Th' elastic arteries, and ruddy stream

Within their coats contain'd, the different glands

Their various store secreting, nor escapes

Among the rest the lacteal tide, the food,

By nature, of thy Child, but now his bane.

O HABIT! Powerful Ruler of Mankind!

Great Principle of action! Reconciled

By thee to every clime, the human Race

O'erspread this globe; around the frozen pole

Scorn the stern brow of Winter, nor beneath

Th' equator's torrid influence, dread the shafts

Of vengeful Phoebus; thou presidest well-pleased

Over th' innocuous vegetable meal,

Which on the banks of Ganges, or of Ind,

Satiates the temperate Bramin. Thou can'st tame

To wholesome nourishment the sanguine feast

Of th' ever-roving Scythian. To thy laws

We subjugate the willing neck, profest

Thy vassals; nor the mental faculties

Dost thou not sway; by thee inwrapt in maze

Of subtle politics, the Statesman plans

His fraudful schemes unceasing. Thou sustain'st

The Sage who labours for the public good

With patriot care, though oftentimes assail'd

By black ingratitude. The midnight lamp

Of meditation, trimm'd by thee, reveals

To keen Philosophy Truth's awful face,

And all his toil is pleasure. Led by thee,

The Bard retreats from Vice's noisy reign,

And in the secret grot with Fancy holds

Delicious converse, while her hand withdraws

The veil from Memory's ideal store,

And all th' associated tribe of thought

Displays before his view. Still may I bend

Before thy shrine, O Habit, when thy rules

With Nature's disagree not, (neither then

May we unpunish'd break them,) else in vain

Shalt thou attempt to fasten round my heart;

For know, that Reason, and her Sister Form,

Fair Virtue, can untwist thy magic cords,

And to their will, tho not annihilate,

Can all thy laws attemper and refine.

END OF THE FIRST BOOK.

INFANCY, A DIDACTIC POEM. BOOK II.
BOOK THE SECOND.

ARGUMENT.

Introduction, and Address to Humanity and Simplicity.—Importance of the subject.—Nursery, not unworthy the notice of Fathers.—Aliment of Infants.—Milk, the only provision of Nature.—Folly of giving them various kinds of food, and especially of feeding them by night.—Additional food when Infants gain the age of two months.—Not to be fed in such a quantity, as that their stomachs may reject the Aliment.—Apolo-gy for Mothers being led into error.—Description of Prejudice in general.—Mothers should strive against its power.—Ill effects of repletion, even in grown persons.—Nature to be satisfied, not over-loaded.—Healthy appearance of Children temperately brought up, and pleasing prospect of their future behaviour in life by that means.—Weakly Children, though sometimes of quick apprehensions, not likely to perform the active duties of life.—The Storgè, or natural affection of Parents to their Offspring, may be carried to excess.—Weaning.—The fittest time when Children are about nine months old.—Before this, proper to accustom them to other food.—Vegetables alone, the cause of many complaints to Children.—Importance of the female Character.

ARE there with pride elate, who cast a glance

Of supercilious scorn on strains like these,

Stiling them low? While sweet Humanity

Attentive listens, vain the Cynic sneer,

Or Cynic frown. She, her warm cheek suffused

With blushes sprung from conscious virtue, owns

She thinks no task too mean, no work too low,

Whose end is public good; would save a life,

Rather than deck herself in glittering robes,

And boast of titled honours; sooner give

One ornament to grace the Common-weal,

Than purchase a whole empory of wit.

Come modest Dame, and o'er my numbers meek

Preside; come with Simplicity, who hates

The swelling phrase bombast, th' insipid term

Pompously introduced, as Artists vile

O'er forms uncouth their dazzling colours spread,

And mock the eye: She too shall bid the train

Of haughty Ignorance (for 'tis the curse

Of Pride to be with Ignorance conjoined)

Keep far aloof, nor read the hallow'd lay.

YET not alone to Women do We write,

The Nurse or Mother. Subjects such as these

Oft have the Sages old of Greece or Rome

In studious mood employed; full well they knew

That from the birth those Heroes must be form'd,

Whom Athens might with future joy admire

Or hardy Sparta: Heroes who might urge

To their sublimest pitch the rights of men,

Brave every danger for their Country's cause,

And make the Persian tremble, tho inclosed

By countless Millions: Heroes who might act

Deeds which the Gracchi would not blush to own,

Or Scipio, bravest, noblest of mankind.

Themes such as these employ'd the generous soul

Of Locke, when with the patriot spirit fired

Of Plato or Lycurgus, He assay'd

The manly task, from custom's harpy claws,

And the soft lap of luxury, to snatch

The Babe t' enervate idleness foredoom'd,

Or sickly languor; to connect his mind

With vigorous organs, it's impulsive will

Apt to perform, and run with ease and strength

The great and difficult career of life;

Desirous to behold our British Youth

Out-rival ancient fame. Come then ye Sires,

Whom love of Offspring, or of Country sways!

You will approve my verse; the Nursery's care

From you will gain attention. Wisdom's voice,

And deep philosophy to you have taught

It's consequence, and worth. Oh! aid the toil

Of a fond Mother, with your reason guide

Her gentler faculties; invigorate

Her virtuous weakness; to your well-known voice

She will, she cannot but with pleasure yield,

And follow precepts sanctisied by You.

WHAT aliment the tender Babe requires,

How best sustain'd, the Muse proceeds to sing.

To Nature then attend: She hath prepared

No food but milk alone, and if it flows

In plenteous rills, abundant is the store.

Thus fed, the lamb over the grassy turf

Sports frolicksome; the patient ox who turns

Sweltering all day the stubborn glebe, by this

Nourish'd at first, his present strength acquired.

And will thy Infant cease to thrive, supplied

With this nepenthe? Rather He will gain

New vigour every hour, and healthful smile

Tho sickness scoul around. Yet some there are

Who fill from morn to noon, from noon to eve,

Nay thro the hours of night, the suffering Child

With various cates, heedless of nature's lore,

Cruelly kind, unknowing that they thus

Fatten a victim for the hungry grave.

For from repletion, every ill severe

Which threatens childhood, arm'd with keener force,

Invades the delicate frame. How oft 'twere sit

The Suckling should imbibe the milky stream,

From the first dawn of morning, till the sun

Set in the west, experience must evince.

All do not feed alike, some greedily

Drain at a meal the lacteal beverage,

Others more nice require the frequent treat.

YET when Night spreads her mantle o'er the Globe,

And leads on sleep and silence, it is meet

T' obey her mandate; rest thy careful head

O Mother, let thy tender Nurseling rest.

Why wilt Thou anxious to thyself create

Unnecessary pain? At evening close

Forth from her den starts the fell Lioness,

And thro the gloomy desart urges on

Eager for prey her rapid step, She leaves

Her sleeping young one, nor expects he food

Till she return with morning's early beam.

Yet this is He, who shall hereafter reign

Lord of the forest, and with kingly voice

Appal his listening subjects. But thy heart

Is soft, and cannot bear thy Infant's cries.

Oh! Heaven forbid that I should wish thy breast

Steel'd to his real misery! But these

Are cries which evil custom hath begot,

And blind indulgence; unalarm'd sustain

A few short trials, bear unmoved the shock

At first; indulged not, He will fret no more.

Believe me, nor from hunger, nor from pain

These wailings spring. How different is the shriek,

And agonizing groan, from sobs like these,

Transient, and humorsome! To cloath thy Child

With health some little violence endure:

Nor to the dictates plain of candid truth

Thy ancient Nurse's doating saws prefer.

THE Stomach ever full, is ever weak:

But from refreshing sleep and abstinence

Digestion thrives, and kindliest nutriment

Th' absorbent veins inhale, wherewith the warm

And plastic arteries by due degrees

Upbuild the human fabric; or by which

Each slender thread and fibre is evolved,

Gaining mysteriously their destined bulk

And firm elastic motion. Robb'd of sleep

The Warrior droops his head, and longs no more

To plunge amid the fight: The Rustic faints

Vigorous e'erwhile, nor strains his sinewy arms

Holding the plough, but nerveless and unmann'd

Presses his homely pallet, sending forth

Vain wishes to the Power who from him flies.

And can the gentle frame of Woman bear

Constant disturbance and unrest? Her strength

Melts down apace, the bloom forsakes her cheeks,

A peevish listlessness succeeds, she pines,

And over-sedulous is now unfit

To fill that office which she most desires.

WOULD'ST Thou thy Child to pass the hours of night

Wrapt in sleep's downy plumage? Banish far

The lazy cradle, useless but to give

Relief to th' indolent attendant race,

Who fain would batten in perpetual sloth,

Who shrink at slightest toil, and ill deserve

The viands they devour. At first indeed,

During the circuit of a moon or twain

'Tis fit thy Charge should only eat and sleep;

Nature demands it. Afterward contract

The hours of sleep by day, and in th' embrace

Of carefulness let exercise divert

The lively Infant; chiefly when his eye

Now looks around unknowing what he sees,

Now when he springs, and spreads his little arms,

And smiles, and utters sounds which strike thine ear

With wondrous pleasure. Tho We now permit

Some added food, its quality regard,

As of important consequence. We praise

Above the rest, the farinaceous tribe,

Bread well-fermented, unadulterate

With deleterious alum, this with milk

And with the limpid element decoct.

Yet always mindful of the golden mean,

Be even this with moderation used,

Nor ever glut the stomach till it loathes,

And the superfluous aliment rejects.

The wrinkled Sibyl laugh to scorn, and all

Her dreams fallacious, when pronouncing this

A sign of health. Nature indeed is kind,

And various her attempts t' evacuate

What would be noxious, and 'tis well thy Child

Hath still sufficing strength. But he, poor Babe,

Had he the sense to guide his appetite,

Would shun this consequence of mere excess,

No proof of health, disgustful to the eye.

WE blame thee not for yielding to the voice

Of Error; if beneath the solemn garb

Of old experience hid, and self-convinced,

Not meaning to deceive, how should thy young

Untutor'd mind resist her lore? But when

Truth meets thy sight, and pointing shews the way

To Nature's bower, thy blind associate quit,

Enter the hallow'd shade, converse with her

Pure Nymph, peruse her lineaments divine,

And to her voice impartial ope thy heart.

IT is not strange that Prejudice should gain

Access to thy soft bosom. Who can boast

His freedom? Wide and potent is her sway.

No Fiend in stronger bonds hath held enslaved

The groaning nations. In Cimmerian gloom,

Where light ne'er penetrates, but Darkness sits

In fixt essential majesty enthroned,

Unconscious Sloth, by Ignorance compress'd,

Brought forth this Monster. To the haunts of men

Taking her way, the stars grew pale; her wings

She spread incumbent o'er the subject world,

Nor suffered men to view what slender bounds

Divided them from brutes; in torpid state

Plunged deep, they lay supine for many an age,

Till Aegypt first rebell'd: Mother of arts,

And boasted fount of wisdom. Yet, tho bold

Th' adventure, She to burst the galling chain

Strove unsuccessful. Mid the twilight groves

Of sacred Memphis, on the banks of Nile,

Prolific, wondrous stream, or round the walls

Of hundred-gated Thebes, in union close

With Superstition dwelt the Pest abhorr'd;

And underneath her hieroglyphic veil

Incongruous forms commingled. Nor in Greece

Reign'd she less absolute; her Sages hence

Built their fallacious systems, airy shades,

And phantoms of the brain; with wordy war

Fought in defence each of his waking dream,

And suffer'd Truth with Socrates t' expire.

How long beneath her power did Europe bend!

Prompted by her, Ambition eagle-wing'd

Taught ancient Rome amid the lust of sway,

Intent on crimson conquest, to neglect

Humanity and virtue; till the pile

By valour rear'd, fell from it's giddy height,

Shatter'd within by luxury, without

Assail'd by savage fierceness. Then what depth

Of native gloom, of thick-incircling night,

Witness'd her presence! Every art was lost,

Each effort of the mind; or else sunk low

Grouch'd to the yoke; while o'er the puzzled schools

Exalted, shook his worse than iron rod

The Tyrant Stagyrite; and Physic awed

By Galen's sullen Genius dared not heal.

Each lovelier grace, each elegance unknown,

Each genuine ornament, till Taste, o'erwhelm'd

With death-like Sleep, in Leo's age revived.

Philosophy extinct, till Bacon rose

The morning star of science, by whose beams

Transfixt, as erst the fabled Python fell,

Lay vanquish'd huge Authority. Then first

Experiment with radiant lamp disclosed

The stores of bigot Time, and taught with nice

Laborious hand from each fictious gem

To separate the true. Hence day by day

The rigid shackles fall self-loosed, or brace

Mankind less strictly; we for Nature's laws

Read Nature only; Wisdom smiles serene,

With freedom bless'd, and Fools alone are slaves.

AND say wilt Thou in this enlightened age

O Mother, single stand, and lend thine ear

To hoar, and quaint Tradition? Wilt thou treat

Thy Child by their opinion, whose advice

Thou would'st not follow in one act beside?

Judge by thyself. What languor, what fatigue

Attends the fuller meal! What dire effects,

What tumults oft from the crude surfeit rise!

And why is reason thine, if not with care

To govern him whose yet unripen'd frame

Of sense is vacant? Tho with greater ease,

His stomach may the superplus expel,

Than older gluttony; yet caution dreads

Events unfortunate, the nerves convulsed,

Fever, and each ill symptom which attends

The growing teeth. Unskill'd to curb himself,

His appetite guide thou: So, duly fed,

Each meal affording what may satisfy,

Not burthen nature, on thy happy Child

Hygeia shall with eye propitious look.

His shall be comely vigour, winning smiles,

Freedom from pain, protection from disease,

And stamina well-knit to undergo

Each future change of ever-varying life,

Each toil, each danger, nay perhaps a base

On which hereafter may be firmly rear'd

Each virtue, social, public, warm, resined,

Each intellectual, moral excellence.

FOR tho the Child of weaker nerves may seem

With quickest parts endow'd, yet should he rise

Thro numerous perils to the height of Man,

Oppress'd with listless torpor, how can he

Brave the meridian ray of public life?

Reflecting on himself, how shall his mind

Expand t'ward other's feelings? Nay too oft

Those blossoms immature of sense, on which

We gaze with pleasure and astonishment,

Spontaneous from the blighted stalk descend,

Or yield harsh, tasteless fruit. This stroke severe

Thou shalt avoid, more rationally kind.

If form'd by nature delicate, thy love

Guided by judgment, shall his strength improve;

At least his weakness, or th' effects it brings,

Shall not proceed from errors of thy own,

Thou wilt not gorge thy Child; and all night long

He sleeps serene, an interval of rest,

In which the stomach clear'd of every load

Fortuitous, its healthful state preserves.

He wakes alert, prompted by hunger keen

T' imbibe the draught nutritious. Thee too Sleep

Hath charm'd with opiate rod, no froward cries,

No tortures of thy Infant, caused by crude,

Unwholesome, or accumulated fare,

Have broke thy tranquil slumbers. Thou too seest

Placid the break of morn, and to thy Babe

The well-secreted, copious aliment

Preparest to give; which, sad anxiety

And restless hours, (in her, who idly fond,

And painfully solicitous, hath watch'd

The night, for other purposes design'd)

Rob of its balmy essence, else derived

Sprightly and plenteous from the genial chyle,

A weak, thin, vapid, unsubstantial juice;

Whence to the tender organs of her Babe

A morbid irritation, which destroys

Their natural, and necessary tone,

Till haply dire disease, or death ensues.

Is there a stronger principle infix'd

In human nature, than the zealous warmth

A Mother t'ward her Infant feels? Yet thin

Is the barrier dividing right from wrong,

Virtue from vice. The noblest qualities

Indulged t' excess, a different hue assume,

No longer noble. Courage may be changed

To brutal force; to prodigality

The generous sentiment; to licence rude

Freedom's bright flame; and tender nuptial love

To mean uxoriousness. What siner joys

Inspire the soul more exquisitely form'd,

By vulgar minds unheeded! But beware

Lest sensibility itself, uncheck'd,

Extinguish it's delights; lest pity bleed

At every pore, intolerable smart

Enduring; lest the softer passion urge

If unsuccessful, to the wan abode

Of madness or despair; lest taste exact

Turn to fastidious niceness, coveting

With vain desire, among the works of men,

To find perfection. Thou too curb thy zeal

O Mother, that impulsive ardour rule,

That love inordinate, which urges on

To weakness, and perverts to criminal

The sweetest, best emotions of thy soul.

WHENCE is this nameless Energy? this power

So forcibly attractive? who intwined

It's subtle threads? and round the willing heart

Braced firm the cord mysterious? Who, but He!

The prime Intelligence! Who first call'd forth

From warring Chaos this fair frame of things!

Who bade each part with animation glow!

And what He will'd t' exist, in order due

Not of continued, but successive life

Will'd to preserve. Who taught the winged race 340

Among impervious shades, with matchless skill,

To form their nests, and guard their callow brood.

The Natives of the fields, and desart wilds,

A fit retreat to seek, the rocky cave,

Thicket, or mountain high. Who gives them all

A thousand wiles, a thousand stratagems

Of crafty policy, from hostile force

To save their Young; and to defend them, fills

E'en the most timid with impetuous strength,

And sense of prowess never felt before.

Instinct alone, their Tutoress and Guide;

But Instinct and superior Reason thine.

THUS while nine Moons have known increase and wane

Taught to proceed, the pleasing task of care

Is still unfinish'd, much remains unsung.

Now is the Season by experience deem'd

Most meet, an arduous duty to attempt.

Arduous to some; but not to thee, whose mind

Reason enlightens with a clearer ray,

Shewing the bounds between parental love,

And it's fond foolish mimic. Thou canst look

Beyond the present, no dull slave of sense,

And for a lasting good, most willingly

Endure some transient pain. Thy Child long time

Fed by thy vital fluid, now requires

Dismission from the breast. Yet not at once,

As some have taught erroneous; such our frame

That every rash and sudden change may prove

The source of harm. More wise and cautious Thou

Break thro the tye of habit by degrees;

And ere the stream maternal be refused,

His taste to different nutriment incline.

BESIDES th' increase of food ere while allow'd

What diet do we grant? Some would defer

To years more vigorous, all, that tyrant Man,

The universal glutton, from the race

That grazes on the plain, or skims the flood,

Or cleaves with nimble wing the yielding air,

Culls for his use; and would not that the child

Should taste of aught but what the fruitful earth

Plant, herb, or grain produces, with the stream

The lowing kine afford. There are no doubt

Who to the latest stage of life arrive,

Thus always nourish'd. On the shores of Ind

Check't by religious fears, whole Tribes refuse

To bathe their hands in blood, lest thro the wound

A kindred soul should fly; yet some pass thro

A century of years (so fame reports)

By sickness unsubdued. Where high ascend

Our Caledonian hills, the hardy North

A gallant Offspring boasts, whom Fate denies

T' indulge, except in vegetable meals.

Yet when their country rouses them to arms,

Waving her standard to their view, they rush

Impetuous forth, and terrible in war,

Dread as the Lion hurt, in every clime

They fight, they conquer, hearing but their name

The distant Foe grows pale. Yet prone to doubt,

The Sage these fair examples will not trust,

Implicitly believing. He will judge

Not from a race of men by habit sway'd,

By custom harden'd, not from every rare

Occurrence of longevity; or those

The minions of their clan, who seek the fields

Where rages fell Bellona. He requires

A strict impartial list, to know if more

Of these, compared with others, ere the force

Of potent use hath nature's influence changed,

Escape unhurt, and reach life's grateful prime

Active, proportion'd, vigorous. And here,

These distant facts still undetermined left,

Th' instructive Muse shall teach from what her eyes

Have clearly seen; though social, not inclined

To luxury's various table, tho humane,

No follower of the Samian Sect. Howe'er

The Infant form'd perhaps with stronger nerves,

Or of peculiar nature, may escape

The blasting hand of sickness, or may thrive

On vegetable fare, yet oft we view

Where poverty more generous food denies,

Tottering Rachitis seize it's helpless prey;

Or flow-consuming Tabes; or within

His mazy labyrinth, the tortuous Worm

Finding a sure asylum, multiplies

His noisome produce. Hence th' unwieldy head,

Distended joints, limbs variously incurved.

Hence the sunk cheek, the hollow lifeless eye:

Hence loss of balmy sleep, and appetite,

Convulsive motions, agonizing spasms,

And symptoms, which in order to describe,

Had foil'd the Coan Sage. For maugre those

Who idly speculate, by fancy ruled,

Or superstition; Nature, we assert,

Form'd us, with mingled diet, herb, root, seed,

And animal, to gratify our taste,

Or foster life; a truth, th' Anatomist

Plainly demonstrates; nor will Reason's mind

Admit a doubt. The crude or sluggish juice

Which vegetables yield, with toil perspired,

Weakens the stomach, whose contraction fails

Not justly stimulated: while the skin

It's pores block'd up, or e'en it's texture changed,

Is cover'd o'er with incrustations fou

Scarcely, if ever, by th' abstersive wave

Of tepid bath removed. But if by fate

These viands are refused, condemn'd to taste

Nought but bird, fish, or beast, a putrid mass

Is gender'd, which pollutes the vital slood,

And taints each humour, till the general frame

Dissolves as in a thaw. These truths regard;

By Nature heeded, when with care She form'd

The lacteal fluid; a peculiar Mixt,

Skilfully blended; by digestion due,

Or in it's winding passage thro the glands

Animalized, and render'd fit to tame

The ferment of acidity, to which

Childhood is prone. Whence we conclude, that now

When from the breast exiled, as far as Art

Her nicer laws can imitate, 'tis right

T' adapt it's food, and mingle aliment

Of alkalescent quality, with that

Which might t' incorrigible acid turn.

THIS to prevent, haply the bounteous streams

Of Pales, from each wholesome leaf, each soft

And verdant shoot, secreted, which invest

Grateful, the dewy meadow, tho conceived

Of virtues rare, and th' intermediate link

Of animal and vegetable kind,

Will want sufficient power. We fear not then

To bid thee from the herd or flock derive

Part of thy Infant's sustenance; but still

With licence circumscribed. As yet the spoon

Retaining, covet not with firmer meats,

To satiate hunger, till the rising teeth

Spring from their latent seeds, and deck the mouth,

Two rows of clearest white. The Fibres else,

Impacted, will not to digestion yield,

A harden'd, tough, indomitable mass:

Nor will the salivary Glands emit

Their needful liquid. By compulsive fire

Rather extract the pure nutritious juice,

Mix'd with the virgin lymph; with this combine

The generous gifts of Ceres; and behold

The Dairy offers it's nectareous store;

And Carolina sends her pearly grain.

RARE, and more rarely, now thy breast unveil,

Nor to a distant day protract the time

Of final separation; He requires

No farther aid of thine; thee other cares

Haply demand, thee other duties; go,

Thou wert not form'd for One alone, tho dear;

Go, bless thy Husband with a numerous race,

Beauteous like this, like this with health adorn'd.

How high the rank in life of Womankind!

Their station how important! Hapless He

Who lives unconscious of their worth! The Fool

Of grosser sense, or airy Libertine

Who draws his judgment from the forward few,

Or yielding weak, and dares with impious tongue

Pronounce them all the slaves of vanity,

By passion ever led, by flattery won.

Their frame like our's, but with ethereal touch

More delicately limb'd. The same their souls,

More soft, more sensible, and more refined.

Each uncontaminated Briton owns

And feels their virtues. Polishers of life!

Sweeteners of savage care! Who tune the breast

To harmony, or prompt to glorious deeds

And emulative toil. To friendship's flame,

To gratitude, how exquisitely true!

Who tender confidence repay with love,

Integrity unshaken, faith most pure,

Warm, zealous loyalty. With honour clad,

As with a robe, and beauteous ornaments

Of unaffected modesty. Well-skill'd

To form the growing soul, and on its young

And opening bud to fix th' impression deep

Of every generous thought, which stimulates

The future Man, to love of Parents, Friends,

Offspring, and sacred Freedom, while as yet

Corruption suffers, in her favourite Isle

The Goddess to reside. Far hence, away,

Ye groveling Sensualists, to Eastern climes!

Where lust, and barbarous jealousy immure

The passive slaves! What joy can beauty give,

When strays th' unfetter'd will? Or when in calm,

And thinking hour, the mind unsatisfied

Contemns the looser Objects of desire,

Pining for sympathy? And feels a void,

Which roving licence never can supply?

The wanton dance, the soft voluptuous strain

Sung to the melting viol, nought inspires,

But languor and disgust. Mistaken Men!

Who lose the better portion of their time,

The dear domestic hour; the converse bland,

Fruition of the soul, love's balmy zest

Which never cloys; parental cares conjoin'd;

Divided griefs; reciprocal delights;

The Life of Nature, Reason, Virtue, Bliss.

END OF THE SECOND BOOK.

INFANCY, A DIDACTIC POEM. BOOK III.
BOOK THE THIRD.

ARGUMENT.

Introduction.—Address to Dr Cullen.—The diet before mentioned to be continued for twelve months longer.—The unvitiated taste of Children to be consulted.—Error of giving them whatever we like ourselves.—Description of artificial, and more polished life.—Progress from thence to Luxury, and all it's bad effects.—Particularly the abuses of the Table.—Children relish bland and insipid food.—Ill effects of indulging them with wine.—One meal a-day of any simple animal food, with vegetables and bread, to be allowed to them.—Pickles, salted meats, and sweetmeats condemned.—The only drink of Children should be water.—Praise of that element.—Fruits recommended.—When arrived at the age of four years, the meals of Children to be regulated and confined to the common stated times.—Advantages of a Child, thus brought up, over others.—Remainder of the subject mentioned.—Thoughts of the Author thereupon.

AGAIN from busy care, from thoughts which prey

On the reflecting mind, from the rank walks

Of Men, where folly dwells, and base design,

And flattery mean, and servile complaisance,

From the dissembled Friend whose hollow heart

Professing service, aims but to deceive,

I seek the Muse; whose charms can softly steal

Affliction from itself, whose power can smoothe

The paths of rugged toil, can heal the wound

Of discontent, and calm the throbbing breast

Of indignation. To my theme again

Well-pleased I turn, and view the simple race

Of Infant Innocence, as yet unwarp'd

By education, blameless nature their's,

And passions undebauch'd, from envy free,

From guile, and that assembled crew of ills

Produced by commerce with a tainted world.

AND say wilt Thou (to whom long since had flow'd

The grateful strain, if apprehensive doubt

Had not shrunk fearful from the public eye,

And dreaded lest thy praises should appear

Link'd to our slighted numbers.) Say, wilt Thou,

CULLEN! Unrivall'd Master of thy art!

Of soul acute throughout the winding maze

Of every devious system, to pursue

And mark the steps of error! By whose aid

Edina rears her Academic palm!

While to thy precepts listening, gathers round

Attentive Youth from each far-distant shore,

And bigot envy droops beneath the ray

Of thy superior lustre! In whose heart

Dwells candour, inmate of the truly great,

And modest diffidence. Whom judgment sage

By long experience taught, directs to fix

The bounds of theory, ne'er own'd a guide

But where observance faithfully severe

Hath ceased to pry; yet by her labours skill'd,

As with a glance, nicely to separate

What vulgar minds by seeming likeness caught,

Absurdly blend; and deem thy conduct rash,

Till they behold with wonder health array

Those cheeks in rosy mantle, lately view'd

As death's pale harbingers. For to thy eye

Memory her fairest tablet swift presents,

And method gives that readiness of thought

By them ascribed to fancy, but which springs

From painful application. Say wilt Thou

Accept our tributary verse? Thou wilt.

For in thy breast the softer graces dwell,

Nor hath Philosophy with stern controul

Lessen'd the milder virtues of the Man;

Thine is the breath sincere of friendship, thine

Compassion's unaffected ardour, thine

The Husband's and the Father's tender love,

And warm benevolence incircling all.

AT length, from stricter vigilance, the Child

Is freed O Mother, wean'd from thy embrace.

Yet the refused thy bosom, still attend

With guardian mind, still prize our lays, for thee,

For Him, attuned; sincere, however else

Wanting due ornament; nor haply needs

Important truth the vivid dress of words,

The tinsel decorations which the song

Inferior claims. Nine moons are past, twelve more

As we have taught, proceed; such thrifty fare

Is best; thy Child's pure nature doth not ask

Variety of meats. He thrives, He grows,

His cheeks unsullied bloom, his soul expands,

Thou seest his smiles, his gay incessant voice

Resounds; what covets thy fond wish? And now

His strength increased, his more elastic limbs

By constant motion exercised, his teeth

Given for utility, not shew, demand

Food more substantial. Yet, by every grace

Which doth, or ought t' inspire the female breast,

By holy temperance, by every nice

Exciting sensibility, but chief

By that internal sting which goads the soul

To potent love of offspring, I conjure,

I charge thee, Mother, Friend, with strict regard

Consult thy Child's unvitiated taste.

Oh! as Thou would'st th' invenom'd adder shun,

Renounce their false opinion, who seduced

By ignorance misjudging, think whate'er

Delights their grosser appetites, will please

Will suit his unhabituated lip;

And thus unknowing but with liberal hand

Cherish their Babes with poison. Wretched Race!

Unconscious Criminals! Murthering thro love

The hapless Beings they would die to save.

By social laws estranged from Nature's paths,

We lead an artificial life; and feel

Unnumber'd wants, which indolence begets

On fond imagination. Polisht high,

The cultivated manners yield no doubt

Joys of superior kind; hence speaks the stone

At sculpture's touch, the breathing Canvas lives,

And Poetry and Music fire the soul.

A thousand nameless elegancies mix

Our jarring minds, and by collision soft

Vanquish their native roughness; modest Love

Binds her enchanting Cestus; on our steps

The Graces wait; we drop the tear humane

Of sacred pity; and Benevolence

Tho powerless to relieve, affords a sigh.

The chaster Genius of convivial mirth

Around our table smiles, and drives far off

Brutal ebriety; profusion yields

The place to neatness; and th' internal sense

Is caterer to th' external. Thus upraised

By slow degrees from barbarism obscure

Man gains his elevation. Oh! how blest,

Could ever-roving Fancy be content!

But always on the wing She strains her slight

In quest of novelty. Hence every thread

Fine-stretch'd before, must still be finer drawn.

Our polisht manners turn to frivolous;

The soul of Art neglected, We behold

The outward shew; unskill'd to comprehend

The large design, on parts minute, on toys,

And splendid colourings we doat; reject

The strain emphatic, curious of the phrase

Uncommon, or sonorons period round;

And music must surprize, not charm the heart.

To elegance succeeds the spurious brood

Of soft voluptuousness. Love, holy love,

The fairest flower life's garden e'er can boast,

Falls to the ground, and changeful wantonness

Rank particolour'd weed springs forth, sure bane

To every virtue. Pity dwindles down

To mean self-love; and seeming generous,

We're but the slaves of vanity. We seek

We covet the protracted meal, and still

Goad, as it palls, our jaded appetite

With new incentives. Ransack every elime,

Commerce the boasted cause, for every rare

And stimulating condiment, spread o'er

Our northern boards the spices of the south,

Adapted to it's habitants, to us

Noxious, and only fit to gratify

The sense debauch'd which loathes it's proper fare.

FOR by cold gales our muscles firmly braced

Act with due force: Or else th' ethereal stream

Perhaps condensed, flows stronger from the brain,

And gives to every limb it's healthful tone.

Not so beneath more torrid Heavens, there sink

The vital powers, to mortal languor doom'd,

Unless excited by the quickening warmth

Of aliment more active. What to them

Nature commands, to us her laws forbid.

And tho unconscious of immediate ill,

At length the stomach, harrasst and o'erworn

By this licentious diet, fails; the pulse

Weakly contracts, each nerve decays, old age

Hastes immaturely on, and round the brow

Scatters untimely snows. The softer Sex

Indulging thus, besides the common lot,

Suffer peculiar accidents, which well

The skilful Muse, if so inclined, could sing.

E'en accidents which thwart the general law,

Nor to their much-desiring souls allow

To clasp a Child, and bear a Mother's name.

BUT whether Thou beneath the sordid yoke

Of luxury wilt not bend, and truly wise,

Refined, but not enervate, view'st with joy

The plain and frugal table, such as erst

Angels and Patriarchs sought: Or whether warp'd

By tyrant custom, as we blushing own

Many there are in these degenerate days,

Women, the worst of Epicures; remove

Far from thy Children each high-seasoned dish,

Each sauce impregnate with the seeds of fire,

Each spice, and pungent vegetable, none

Admit, of foreign or of native growth.

SHORT is the time stretch'd to its utmost date

Of Man's existence; to contract thy own

Intent, yet spare thy Child; draw not a veil

O'er the young morn of life: From thee He springs,

Would'st thou so quickly trace his setting beam?

Plunged in death's sable wave ere thou hast run

Thy own brief day? Daughter of Fashion! no.

Tho all thy relative affections fade,

And every soft sensation droops beneath

The sickly blast of pleasure, tho thou flit'st

On giddy plume and thoughtless, mid the wilds

Of vanity and folly, we acquit

Thy devious soul of wilful homicide.

Read then our moral page, and better taught,

Know right from wrong, and sense, by action, prove.

Should'st thou reject our lays (as who can scan

The deeds of mad caprice?) well-pleased we turn

From gay saloons, from courts, from haughty wealth,

And midnight riot, to more gentle scenes,

Sure of the spotless heart, and it's applause.

LEARN from thy Child, O Parent! He will teach

Full oft the diet suited to his frame.

View with what marks of loathing, He at first

Rejects the hot and acrid; instinct dwells

Within, a faithful guard; his rapid pulse

And native warmth by these are quickly urged

Beyond their bounds. He relishes the bland,

And to thy taste insipid; these controul

Each motion, nor permit his heat to rise

Above it's due degree. Nor less he shuns

Destructive Bacchus; why then will his Sire

By frequent repetition strive t' o'ercome

Nature's dislike? why, but because himself

Fond of the rosy God, and led astray

By reverend prejudice, he wholesome deems

The fever-stirring draught? Nor wants he names

Of high authority, Physicians sage

To justify his creed. But Use destroys

The benefit He seeks, and if disease

Should wine's assistance claim, it then may lose

Its medicinal power. To every word

Each act attentive, Children imitate

Whate'er they see or hear; this principle

Strongly within their little breasts alive,

Impels them oft to venture hardy war

Against antipathy. Of this beware,

The struggle nicely mark, and point their aim

To proper objects. Nor because You praise

The circling glass, and they with many a sip

Vanquish their feelings, deem that Nature prompts

To what, except more rarely, it abhors.

INDULGE aversion, combat with desire;

A maxim safe and just; for this, by Art

Misled, may urge to danger, but t' abstain

Will prove at least innocuous. Nor believe

That from ourselves We judge, and interdict

What our own taste refuses. When the frame

Is perfect, when the fibres have acquired

Their utmost growth, more steady are the laws

Of our corporeal organs, less disturbed,

To change less subject. Never would I shun

The friendly intercourse of souls, which wine

In moderate draughts augments. We know it's power

To cheer the wretch desponding and forlorn

Upon the sickly couch; to mitigate

Stern fever's putrid vehemence; excite

The torpid heart, till it propell anew

The languid-circling blood, in every vein

More strenuously alive; to calm the rage

Of phrenzy, and imagination's tide

Vague-shifting to controul, till reason smile.

Full well we know it's power to raise the strength

Of drooping age, and in his sluggish limbs

Awake the latent fire. But Childhood needs

No foreign aid to stimulate the brain.

Ever with rapid speed from forth that fount

Of heat and motion bursts the nervous stream;

Each irritable fibre is full-fraught

Almost t' excess, nor asks the least supply.

Canst thou improve on Nature? She this store

Puts to it's proper use; this urges on

In due proportion each increasing tube,

Muscle, and bone, and ligament. Canst thou

Direct her actions? Rather shalt thou find

T' exceed, will cause defect, thy Child curtail'd

Of his just size and stature, weak, and wan.

And should He rush hereafter, madly rush

Amid th' intemperate herd, and daily seek

The noisy rout of Comus, how, too late

Wilt thou repentant mourn thy rash exploit,

His appetite first led astray by thee,

His early relish of the fervid bowl!

NICE, and perhaps erroneous in their plan,

The younger animals as yielding less

Of due nutrition, and digested slow,

Some disallow. That, food prepared from those

Of growth mature, thro th' intestinal maze

Less tardily proceeds, we not deny:

More acrid are the juices it contains,

Whence stimulating more; it's fibres hard

With labour wrought to chyle. The young are bland,

Composed of humours suited to the young,

Viscous, nutritious, slower in their course.

But as th' absorbents greedily imbibe

Whate'er is nutritive, by this delay

They drink their fill, and to the solids add

The mild tenacious substance. Yet, not bound

To partial theory, without reserve

We bid thee take thy choice of all the tribes

Which bounteous Heaven affords, and common use

Before thee sets, of every age and size.

All but the stall'd, and cramm'd, by filthy sloth

And gluttony, perverted from the state

Of wholesome nature; send the mass corrupt

Of nauseous humours, and of rancid oil

Far from thy board. In simplest manner drest,

Of these one daily meal we grant thy child,

But not commixt, his be one dish alone.

Grudge not with these of vegetable store

A plenteous portion, nor permit the bread

To lye untouch'd beside him. Thus indulge

His appetite, and let him freely eat

Till hunger be sufficed. This rule observe;

All animals which wildly range the earth,

Or fluid air, and all of vigorous age

With flesh of darker grain, experience finds

More alkalescent, these the freer use

Of plants and herbs acescent will demand.

The tame, the young, and those of whiter hue,

Require them less. Heed well what we condemn;

All things which housewife art with care preserves,

Acid, or salt, or saccharine: all cates

Of unfermented flour composed, or those

Of fulsome sweetness, and enrich'd with wine.

THESE let thy Child avoid. And be his drink

The purest element, with which of old,

Heroes, and Champions at th' Olympic games,

Sated their thirst, and glorious deeds perform'd,

In war, and manly exercise; or He

The Heaven-devoted Nazarene, to whom

Cords were as threads, when fired with holy zeal

He burst his bonds, and with his single hand

Hew'd down opposing armies. Hence each spring,

And limpid fountain, every stream which flow'd

Soft-murmuring o'er it's pebbled bed, was graced

By wise antiquity with hallowed forms,

Pure nymphs, and gentle Naiads. Well they knew

The virtues of the crystal wave, e'er vile

Fermented liquors had enslaved their taste,

And thinn'd mankind. Pass we th' Atlantic foam,

Where Britain o'er her Alien Sons now claims

Disputed sway; a hardy people there

Inhabited, bold, active, in the chace

Unequall'd, patient of fatigue, to foes

Tho unrelenting, yet to honour just,

True to their plighted faith, to strangers kind,

Not one of limb deform'd, or trembling nerve

Among them dwelt, and numerous were the tribes.

WE did not root them out with savage hand,

And bathe their fields in blood, but to their lips

More slyly proffer'd the Circean charm.

They drank the poison down, and by degrees

Relinquish'd their paternal fields to us.

Rare, scatter'd are their clans, some quite extinct,

Potent of yore, ere the destroying draught

Was introduced. The remnant are corrupt,

Perfidious, treacherous; European cups

Have taught them every European vice.

Still flourishing perhaps, had they disdain'd

The snare, contented with the simple streams

Which issue from their rocks. Give then thy Child

The blameless fluid, friendly to mankind,

From whence Hygeia fills her sacred urn,

Nectar of paradise; nor will He gain

Unless debauch'd, a liquor to his taste

More grateful. Nay, would'st thou, if age permit,

And strength unbroken, thy example add,

Trust me no other beverage will so well

Assist digestion, none the spirits cheer,

Inspire with calm serenity the mind,

And make the night glide by in tranquil sleep.

BUT lo! where with Vertumnus comes the Nymph

Presiding o'er the garden, in her hand

Waves Amalthea's horn, whence prodigal

Her freshest store descends. She asks me, why

This long neglect? And bids me sing her gifts.

Her various fruits, whose juices the warm fdun

By secret fermentation hath matured

From aqueous, acid, bitter, and austere

To rich luxurious flavour. Hither lead

The Childish train indulgent, let not fear

In scanty measure to their taste impart

The ripe and wholesome banquet. Still while roll

The summer months along, while heat intenfe

Darts through our frame, and stimulates our nerves,

Till languor each o'erlabour'd thread subdue,

And in each tube the purple current teems

With seeds of putrid violence, to them

The summer months innocuous roll along,

Innocuous glows the fervid sky, controul'd

Their baneful influence by Pomona's aid.

FOR them, unsparing (for we scarce can set

The limits of restriction) pluck thy fruits,

Nature's delicious antidote 'gainst all

The hidden venom of the fultry year,

Mild. cooling, saponaceous. nutritive.

For them the blushing berry underneath

It's verdant leaf is hid, for them adorns

It's rough and prickly shrub, for them depends

The clustering currant from it's smoother stem.

For them is deck'd each tree. The ruddy peach,

The golden apricot, the cherry, boast

Of Kentish soil, the fragrant nectarine,

The plum, green, purple, azure, the moist pear,

The apple, theme of the Silurian Bard,

In fulness of profusion grow for them.

Nor would I when by chance more vigorous suns

It's harshness meliorate, not cull for them

Th' autumnal grape, nor to their lips forbid

The well-rear'd melon, nor th' Ananas' rich

And poignant crispness. They are form'd for all,

And all for them. More cautiously supply

Whate'er by rough or bitter husk and shell

Is circumscribed, and all the hoard which asks

The mellowing hand of age. Or those we gain

From climes far-distant, ere they have acquired

Their just perfection gather'd; shaddock crude,

Pomegranate, orange. Let Hesperia's Sons,

Let th' Antillean Planter, or the Tribes

Of fertile Asia, gratify their taste

With all th' unlabour'd bounty of their soil;

Yet is not our's ungrateful; industry

Here cloathes our fields, our gardens, and our groves,

With plenty all it's own; Pomona smiles;

For cultivation oft bestows a zest,

Which wild exuberant Nature would deny.

ERE yet we close the strain, one error more

The Muse will combat. Tenderness may prompt

Whene'er thy Child shall ask thee, to bestow

The needless viand. In his younger days

We bound thee not to rules. But now when o'er

His head four annual suns have roll'd, advise

That he be taught submission to the laws

Of social life, which stated hours appoints

For action, and repast. Nor heed the voice

Of ignorance, which talks of exercise,

And quick digestion. Often well we know

The vicious taste of idle wantonness

Demands restraint. But lest to thee it seem

As real hunger, from the coarser loaf,

A pure, tho homely nutriment, supply

His craving; thus, with certainty detect

Fictitious appetite. His other meals

Yet undirected, both at morn and eve,

Be fresh drawn broths, and milk in various forms

With rice, or other farinaceous grain

Inspissated. We would not stint thy Child,

And know his growth requires a constant flux

Of plastic fluids; nay, 'tis best to err,

If err, in quantity; the flexile tubes

Of Children, will perhaps with ease transpire

What is redundant. But with heed observe:

Add thy discretion to the Muse's lore:

And reason, and experience be thy guides.

Now duly taught by thy maternal care,

O never may He turn his vagrant steps

Aside to dwell mid the polluted tents

Of bestial luxury! We would not wish

A stoical indifference, to fly

Forever those delights which sway mankind,

Th' exhilarating bowl, which opes the heart;

And festive banquet, where preside the powers

Of wit and decent mirth; but may He live,

Born for society, no hermit sour,

Or driveling moralist, absurdly grave,

And singularly dull. Temperate by choice,

But not austerely abstinent. By thee

Is the foundation in his primal years

Firm laid, by which he need not sacrifice

To rigid niceness; but with health his friend,

Will not start back from every little change,

Which weaker habits must with caution shun,

Or cannot with impunity indulge.

Thine is the work, and gratitude shall then

Repay the debt, the filial debt he owes.

Then shalt thou feel, tho strong th' instinctive tye

Of blind affection, what sublimer joys

Reason affords, the generous mutual bond,

Thy tender love, his tribute of the soul.

THUS far the Muse Didactic hath assay'd

Her purposed theme, scattering before the steps

Of Truth and Science, o'er their toilsome paths

The not unfrequent flower; the sweets which bloom

On those delicious banks forever green,

Fed by translucent rills which murmuring sweep

O'er sands of gold; where Fancy loveliest Nymph

Delighted strays, or with the Sylvan powers,

Dryads, and Fauns, disporting, joins the dance;

And sings her wildest note; or silent stands,

Her roving eye, her giddy step enthrall'd,

Attentive to Minerva's heavenly voice,

Enamour'd of her wisdom; and from Her

Receives the potent wand by Judgment form'd,

And waves it o'er her works, which thence remain

Unfading and immortal. Rest not here

O Virgin, still be Infant Man thy theme;

And what of cloathing, what of exercise

He needs, relate: nor his diseases scorn

With hand benign to paint, and teach the cure.

THOU wilt not, if the sharp inclement air

Of cold neglect freeze not thy vital warmth,

And in the cave of solitude fast bind

Thy wings aspiring, which shall shed their plumes

Of varied die, or fold thee ever round

In sullen indignation. Rather far

From thee be thoughts like these! Stoop not thy soul

To fears of vulgar nature; high above

This sordid earth direct thy piercing eye,

And view where rear'd beyond the gulph of Death

Stands Fame's refulgent dome, to living Wight

Aye inaccessible. Still, as of yore

Thou sought'st th' Ascrean, or the Mantuan Bard,

Thy visions spread before my raptured sight,

And soothe my ear with those celestial strains,

Which on Olympus' lofty top reclined,

Charm Jove himself: while virtue, reason, truth,

Humanity, and love, each sound applaud,

And bless th' unprostituted lyre. Oh! hail

Ye pure, ethereal Bards, who nobly stoop'd

To teach mankind! who round the flowing locks

Of fancy, cast the sacred wreathe, inwove

By the fair fingers of Utility,

Which scorns caprice, and whim, amusive toys,

And trifles vain, th' unprofitable gawds

Which catch the light and airy mind of Youth,

Or vacant Pleasure! Hail again ye Bards!

Nor only ye of Greece and Rome, who first

Stole from the croud profane my chastened thoughts,

And as I gazed upon your page, inspired

The holy frenzy of ambitious love,

Aiming with ardent, but successless toil,

To emulate your beauties! Ye too hail

Ye sons of Britain! Masters of the song!

Thou AKENSIDE, late wept by every Muse,

Whose skilful hand unlock'd the secret source

Of mental pleasure, founded in the new,

The graceful, and sublime! Nor blind to worth,

Tho still upon this wave-worn shore it stand

Of troublous life, by envy's blasts assail'd

Be thou ungreeted, ARMSTRONG, in my verse,

Thou Parent of the Prophylactic Lay!

Nor MASON, thou, whose polisht taste instructs

To form the English Garden, mingling art

With rural wildness, and simplicity!

Nor BEATTIE, Friend of Truth, whose Gothic harp

As if from magic touch, emit such tones,

That e'en Apollo might his lyre forget,

And wonder at the harmony; while pleased,

In Edwin's ripening Genius, we behold

The progress of thy own! Hail too ye Friends

Of Nature, and the Muse, of soul refined,

Of judgment unimpair'd, by slavish Art

Unmanacled, who feeling, dare confess

The pleasure which Ye feel! who mid the scenes

Of calm retirement, from the genuine cup

Nectareous, virtue-crown'd, drink true delight!

While the mad riotous crew at distance heard,

Disturb not your pure ears, nor aught inspire

But pity and contempt? To you alone

These Bards have sung, to you alone I sing.

O LET me mingle with the hallowed band,

By you exalted! Let me scorn with you,

The base, luxurious, dissipated Great;

Who to the yoke of every foreign vice

Bow down the neck disgraceful, and retain

Only the name of Britons. Strangers They

To every wish, each thought of nobler kind,

Absorb'd in selfish joys, of public good,

Of private virtue, heedless. Skill'd to game,

To waste their trifling hours beneath the shade

Of indolence, to steer the fragile bark

O'er the smooth wave of folly. They applaud

What taste condemns; their highest excellence,

To deck with richest offerings the vain shrine

Of those Musicians, who distort the most

The native elegance, and most pollute

Each charm of Melody, or those who urge

The human voice divine to heights which well

Madness might emulate: While JACKSON'S strains

Breathing in every note the soul of love,

Of passion, feeling, sense, and sentiment,

Flow unrewarded; save that Nature stands

Listening, and drinks in every thrilling sound.

Delicious, but unprofitable meed

Of elevated Genius! Fond of shew,

Of pompous scenes, of barren novelties,

Of tortured incidents, and poor finesse,

Filch'd from the Gallic, or Italian stage,

They relish not, while they pretend t' admire

Our Shakespeare's matchless energy. The voice

Of wisdom they despise; the sacred lyre

They trample in the dust; a catch, a glee,

A song obscene, a libel, which destroys

Some good man's peace of mind, and blasts his fame;

Strikes their weak souls with rapture. Wedded love

They slout to scorn; posterity with them

Is lighter than a shade; a rapid whirl

Of vice fantastic hurries on their lives;

And e'en the Flatterer whom they feed, would blush

To praise their memory. Is this the Race,

O Britain, Nurse sublime of Heroes old,

Of Patriots, Sages, who thy state have raised

To it's all-envied height! Is this the Race

Destined to guide thy counsels? form thy laws?

Croud thy once-awful Senate? Against these,

Must public spirit idly strain the nerve?

To these, must worth, and modest merit yield?

The reptile spawn of insignificance,

Corruption-foster'd? Then farewell to all

Thy boasted glories! Stile thyself no more

The Queen of Nations; levell'd with the mean

And undistinguish'd kingdoms of the Earth.

Thou hast been free! The Aera will arrive;

Thou shalt be free no more! O'er folly, vice,

Aristrocratic faction shall usurp,

Or bold, and enterprising Monarchy

With justice claim dominion. 'Tis most fit.

A mid th' extensive records of mankind,

It ne'er was found, that freedom could survive

Where honour dwelt not; where with careless eye,

Or, but intent on pleasure, Luxury sat

And view'd her chain, unmoved, where love of fame,

Where the keen hopes of future praise, no more

Awoke the generous deed, the grateful praise,

Paid by posterity to liberal souls,

Who plan the good of ages. Yet, at once

Quit not this Isle O Virtue! In the scenes,

The lower scenes of action, linger still.

Far from the plague-struck Capital, inspire

The honest individual; in his soul

Cherish the warm affections; let him feel

The joys of unpolluted love, and think

His offspring worth his care! Still may'st Thou walk

On Isca's banks where thro the blooming vale

It's lucid stream meanders, and receive

The Orisons, which there thy Votaries pour

From hearts unconscious of deceit, untaught

The false refinements of superior life!

Blest by the Muse, in nuptial friendship, blest,

Forbid th' external sight of things, within

Illumed by goodness, and the beams serene

Which taste, which wisdom, and contentment shed,

May BLACKLOCK still enfold thee? May'st Thou dwell

From pride far distant, from the tyrant sway,

And noon-tide glare of vanity, with Him,

And his Compatriots! Drop th' expressive tear

O'er GREGORYS' tomb; in whom alive, combined

All, that the sapient head, or feeling heart,

Proclaim; and admiration, and esteem,

And reverence, move! Then cast thy eyes around,

And own Thou ne'er beheld'st a soil more pure!

A soil, where manly parts, and sense acute

Spontaneous grow, and every female grace

Adorns with innocence and chaste reserve

The Matron's bosom. Spite of Southern pride,

The rancorous lye, or partial ridicule,

It's Sons and Daughters perfect in their kind.

In bravery, worth unquestion'd, strength of soul,

In modest tenderness, domestic charms,

Tho equall'd, ne'er surpast. Thus may'st Thou still

Preserve a Few from the contagious air

Which luxury breathes! A remnant whence to learn

What Britons erst have been! Preserve them Heaven!

And when they cast the page of flattery by,

Let them with kindred warmth these notes approve,

And say, The Strains are our's, for Us attuned,

And for the sake of Children yet unborn.

END OF THE THIRD BOOK.

INFANCY, A DIDACTIC POEM. BOOK IV.
BOOK THE FOURTH.

ARGUMENT.

Introduction.—Address to Mr Godrington.—Subject of the Book proposed, viz. Cloathing, Heat, and Cold. Nature still to be attended to.—Infants not so susceptible of cold as is generally imagined.—Other causes occasioning their first cries.—Might bear even severity of cold though naked.—Their Cloathing to be light and perfectly easy.—Animadversion on different treatment of them, not so necessary now, as when Swathing was more in use.—Description of that custom, and it's ill effects.—Daughters were confined still longer.—The unnatural attempt to procure them what was called a fine shape, ridiculed.—No part of the body to be loaded.—The head, the legs, and feet to be uncovered.—Cleanliness insisted on.—Regard due to good Servants, and Nurses.—Excess of heat to be avoided, whether communicated by contact, or by weight of bed-cloaths.—Communicated warmth when particularly useful.—Cold Bath recommended.—Apostrophe to the Springs, Rivers, &c.

SWEET is the breath of Fame, and o'er the soul

Of Youth, on Fancy's pinions wasted back,

The daring Visitor of times unknown,

And future ages, like a spicy breeze

Steals her delicious fragrance; like a breeze

From Zeylon or Sumatra, which enchants

The Sailors heart, tho night involves the coast,

And hides it's lovely foliage from his view:

While in his mind He sees the blooming groves,

And haply thinks them fairer than they are.

SWEET o'er my bosom stole the breath of Fame

In early life, on Fancy's pinions borne;

Th' ideal prospects rose supremely fair,

And in extatic vision I beheld

Perennial bays distinguishing my tomb.

For not unuseful, or of light import

The strains I sung. And though mid glades obscure

Dwelt the sequester'd Muse, from riot far,

From pomp imperious, and the lordly board

Begirt with servile slatterers, yet her breast

By human kindness sway'd, where'er had pierced

The British language, manners, arts, and arms,

Revered the Good; and base-born Envy dead,

Or vanquisht, or engaged with living worth,

Exulted in th' esteem of times to come,

And Virtue's mutual friendship unreserved.

In distant Continents, where horrid War

Now stains with Brother's blood the guilty soil,

In distant Islands, mid their nodding palms,

And growing sweets, her eyes survey'd with joy

The willing Parent bending o'er her lay.

DEAR to the youthful mind, ye Prospects hail!

Ye Visions wide-removed! for deep Ye thrill'd,

Fixing, as real, all your traces there.

And, if illusive all, yet riper Age

Can scarce believe the flattering scenes untrue,

Or cease the vivid colours to behold

Bright glowing thro the shadowy lapse of years.

MEANWHILE, O CODRINGTON! whose generous heart

Blames not the tenor of my partial song;

By whom uncensured flows the self-applause.

Whose temper, mild as an autumnal sky,

No cloud obscures; with feelings warm, yet ruled

By cautious judgment, in whose breast resides

Friendship's pure Heaven-descended flame; alive

To all a Parent's fondest love; yet both

Under superior reason's nice controul

Directed to their truest end and use!

For thee, and such as thee, an audience small,

In space and number circumscribed, by wealth,

By rank and titles undebased, again

I venture the Pierian spring to seek,

And tread on sacred ground. How difficult

Where, thro the laurel groves, and myrtle shades,

The verdant alleys, lawns, and rising slopes,

Thick strewn with flowers of every various hue,

Of every various season, Elegance,

Coy Nymph, unsated wanders, on each scene

With curious eye commenting, from the sweets,

The never-fading blooms, each virid arch,

Selecting meetest garlands, to suspend

Upon the tree of Taste, most eminent

In the poetic region, underneath

Whose fragrant shelter, Phoebus and the Nine

In chorus met, attune their happier strains

Of rarest harmony: How difficult,

By Health and Youth attended, to pursue

The bashful Maid, attract her favouring eye,

And wooe Her to bestow a single wreathe!

CAN I then hope, whom sickness long hath drench'd

In her Lethaean dews, with feeble limbs,

And wan complection, from her hands to bear

Those gifts, which unpossesst, my lays must creep

Dully monotonous, nor touch the heart,

Nor win th' approving mind? Yet, witness Thou!

Witness my Friend! Who know'st the human frame,

Each drug of cordial, each of healing power,

To me in vain administer'd, what toil

I must experience now, the Nymph to trace

Through her meand'ring walks! what partial chance

Should she my languid homage not disdain!

YET, thy inciting voice; the conscious thought

Sprung from the love of kind, which tells Me, all

Will not be frustrate, nor the darling wish

Of public good be wholly unfulfill'd;

Some loitering sparks of that once brighter flame

My soul enkindling, prompt me to a task

Long interrupted: Where in slumbers deep

It rests, t' awaken the Didactic Lyre;

With it's more solemn notes to mingle tones

(So they to memory fail not to recur)

Oft heard of yore, as t' ward the lucid fount

I stole, not unforbidden; tones which please

Heighten'd the more by contrast, and engage

Amusive the charm'd ear, till it imbibe

Instruction with delight, till melody

Not the chief object seem, it's liquid voice

Yielding to reason's energy divine.

OF Cloathing now, of Heat, and Cold We sing,

Unanimating themes; but which require

Th' attention of the Bard, as not of use

Inferior to the subjects which erewhile

He strove t' adorn; nor claiming notice less

From the true bosom of Parental Love.

STILL heed We Nature, and her guiding steps

Pursue; nor, tho with moans, and plaintive cries

From his concealment issues to the light

Man's tender Progeny, believe, He feels

Th' external air his undefended frame

Keenly invade. These moans, these cries proceed

From other causes. To his lungs at once,

Expanding their nice substance, rushes in

The forceful air. The circulating blood

Alters it's course, thro channels unessay'd

Impell'd, whose first resistance haply claim

Exertions of the labouring heart, quick, strong,

If not convulsive, yet irregular.

Exertions of the lungs themselves, to gain

Their necessary powers, and genial spring.

Add too that oft each muscle, every limb

Strain'd and compresst, scarce bears the gentlest touch,

Sore from the late hard conflict undergone,

And agonies maternal. But to cold,

Know, He is born impassive; or at least

With vital warmth supplied, to render vain

It's most severe assault; beyond the scale

Of heat which stimulates maturer age.

HE needs not Art's assistant hand, or dress

Of studied care. Uncloath'd, in wilder climes,

Like the more hardy natives of the soil,

E'en in the polar regions, He might brave

The freezing atmosphere. Nay, unwith-held

By dubious fears, tho placed indeed beneath

More favouring skies, there are, who from his birth

Plunge th' infant stranger in the gelid wave,

Where unappall'd the mother too enjoys

The bath's refreshing coolness. But, nor harsh,

Nor fanciful, We shall not recommend

To Thee, more delicate in form and mind,

Daughter of Britain, these examples, drawn

From savage nations, and from tribes remote.

Cloath'd be thy Child; so polisht custom wills,

And decent manners: But in airy garb,

Loose, and uncinctured. Thus He shall avoid

The torment of accumulated heat,

Nor from unnatural coercion feel

Distress and anguish. With minuter rules

To croud the page, and dull or quaint describe

His vesture, what materials should compose

Each article, and whether by the loop,

Or pin restrain'd, (tho as the last may bring

Danger, nay death, the caution which forbids

It's use, above the trivial-seeming cause

Important rises) descants such as these,

Prolixly mean, would argue in the Muse

Failure of judgment, no respect to Thee.

Suffice the general maxim; to dilate.

And to the test each consequence reduce,

Be thine. Bright glows the warm maternal soul,

And clear, illumined by a hint alone.

NOR flows with that necessity the strain,

As erst it might, when barbarous hands around

The new-born Babe fold over fold inwreath'd

The circling band. Amid the wanton gales

Which Luxury breathes, amid the changeful swarms

Which Fashion decks in her chameleon hues,

Amid th' increasing follies of our age,

And vices not perhaps destructive less

Than those of old, tho softer, milder far,

Link'd with humanity, and taught to charm,

To poison by politeness; Justice owns,

While the rough virtues of our ancestors

And manly genius We no more behold:

Our souls revolt from habits which enslaved

Unamiable their Minds, and from the sway

Of Prejudice, whose galling shackles long

Their vigorous faculties controul'd. This truth

Justice confesses, this, th' instructive Muse.

GLADLY, O Mother! We congratulate

Thy Infant, who from life's first dawn enjoys

His birth-right, who the vital air at will

Inhales, nor feels corporeal bonds. With me

Revert thine eyes, and Lo! their hapless Sons,

How braced and pinion'd, who t' extend the reign

Of civil liberty, with ardour toil'd,

Who fought, who bled t' extend it. (Nor escaped

The Race preceding our's.) See, where they lye,

True objects of compassion! round them close

Is fixt the painful bandage, not a limb

Can move; sad victims to th' erroneous creed

Which holds that Nature incompletely acts,

And forms defective works, that Art may give

The strength by her refused, and perfect thus

Th' unfinisht system, gasping they recline

In real martyrdom. The shriek is heard,

The groan, the sob expressive, but in vain.

In vain the little Captive, as awhile

Released from durance, utters sounds of joy,

Stretches his arms well-pleased, and smiles, and casts

His looks delighted on the cheerful blaze,

Or waving taper. To his fetters soon

Remanded, He in vain attempts to cope

With arbitrary power, each effort tries,

Shews by each deed th' abhorrence which He feels,

Adding th' emphatic eloquence of tears,

Of inarticulate, but deep distress,

And struggles all-impassion'd to be free.

WITH pity and contempt thy soul beholds

This picture. What calamities ensued,

Experience proved; but idiot bigotry

Confess'd them not. Th' evolving principle

Within, the plastic juice augmenting size,

Thus partially impeded, could not urge

The destined fibres onward, or enlarge

By due accretion e'en the vital cells

Requiring speediest growth. Yet active still,

In disproportion'd manner, to the head

Unseemly bulk they added; or the joints

Distended, and relax'd. Or oft from pain

Shrinking, the Child, unconscious but of ease,

Curved by forced attitudes the flexile bones,

Nay th' all-supporting spine. Th' obstructed breath,

The fluids in their circulating course

Unnaturally check'd; th' irriguous glands;

The fount whence motion, and sensation spring,

And future intellect, the Brain itself,

Disturbed, or with more lasting injury

Impresst, exclaim'd at this preposterous war,

The war which Step-dame Art with Nature waged.

CALL'D by society to tread the paths

Of busy life, from it's hard slavery soon

The stronger Sex was freed; and ere too late,

Haply by Nature's potent air restored,

Could boast a frame of vigour unimpair'd,

And undeformed. But to long sufferings doom'd,

The female Race, so will'd perverted taste,

For many a year pined underneath the force

Of this domestic torture. For as erst

The Mother strove t' assist their infant nerves,

And give to weakness strength: She now assay'd

Her progeny t' embellish, and their shape

To mould, as fancied beauty in her eye

Deceptive shone. Heaven! that the human Mind

Warp'd by imagination, should believe,

Or e'en suggest it possible, the form,

Whose archetype the Deity Himself

Created in his image, could be changed

From it's divine proportion, and receive

By alteration, comeliness and grace!

That round the Zone which awkwardly reduced

E'en to an insect ligament the waist,

The blooming loves should sport, enticing charms,

And young attractions! Heaven! that e'er a Bard,

(The genuine Bard is Natures' sacred Priest)

Forgetful of his charge, should deck with praise

As fair and lovely, what would strike the soul

Unwarp'd by custom, as a subject fit

For scorn, indignant spleen, or ridicule.

Yet Prior! tho nor taste nor reason blend

Their essence with the verse, while lasts the tongue

Thy numbers help'd to polish, while the powers

Of melody bear sway, the verse shall live,

Beauteous description of a Gothic Shape.

OH! may the manners of thy nut-brown Maid,

Her artless truth, simplicity of soul,

Her fondness, and intrepid constancy,

Long in the bosoms of the British Fair,

Tho banisht every other region, dwell,

Delighted inmates! May their eyes still beam

With all her speaking rays, their cheeks endue

Her modest crimson! But may never more

"The Boddice aptly laced" their panting hearts

Confine, or mutilate that symmetry

Of limb and figure, whence a Zeuxis' hand

His all-accomplisht Helen might have form'd,

Or a Praxiteles with happiest art

Sculptured a Venus. Tho Meridian day

Behold them drest as potent fashion bids,

Girt with exterior ornaments uncouth,

Trappings disgustful; yet at morn, or eve,

Or when they to the genial bed repair,

Still may they charm the melting eye of love

With elegance and grace, the fabled Dames

Of classic soil transcending, native grace,

And elegance unveil'd, which mocks attire.

RETURN Digressive Muse! t' approach the shore

Of Cyprus, or to breathe the tepid gales

From Achedivias' Island wafted round,

Is not thy choice; tho CAMOENS' Shade invite,

And MICKLE with his glowing spirit fraught,

As each heroic, so each scene of joy

Paint with a Master's fire unlimited

By cold translation. Never may our strain

One vague idea raise, which spotless minds

May blush to own, much less insult the glance

Of virgin purity, or harshly wound

The conjugal and chaste maternal ear.

DIGRESSIVE Muse return! our proper theme

Is Man's first helpless state, our tuneful aid

Th' ingenuous Parent claims. Resolved to bless

Thy Child with ease and freedom, taught to shun

By the dire act of Swathing, all constraint

So baneful, let no part escape thy care.

Nor load the head; nor till he walk abroad,

At least till firmly he can press the ground,

Cover the legs or feet. Some precepts here,

To Cloathing unattached, or slightly link'd,

We mean t' inculcate. Need I then to thee,

O Mother, whom the soul refined alone

Can prompt t' inspect my numbers, recommend

The Virtues' dear Correlative, (as They

The mental frame, so the corporeal, She

Adorning, rendering pure) the decent Maid,

Unsullied Cleanliness, with Her full oft

Thy Charge to visit? Not that to her shrine

E'en from thy tender years thou hast not paid

Sincerest worship. But my words believe,

Strict watchfulness the Menial Train require,

And if, unheedful to their trust, they slight

The grave rebuke, dismiss them from thy doors.

Not Their's the nicer sense inspiring Thee,

Those principles and habits now intwined

In union with thy nature. Nor is their's

The Babe, who smarting from their sloth, with nerves

Keenly alive, by the corrosive sting

Of acrimony pierced, tormented shrieks,

Or moans incessant. Neither scorn as vain,

The dictates which succeed, from Reason learn'd.

BANISH the softer couch; let not thy Child

Recline on down; his pliant bones but now

From cartilage emerging, on the bed

Which yields beneath his weight may haply gain,

Thus frequently recumbent, a deformed

And twisted aspect, by Chirurgic skill

For ever irreclaimable. Nor less

Such accident t' avoid, with cautious eye

Th' attendant mark, who bears him in her arms,

And let Her oft his posture shift, oft change

From right to left, altern. A careless Tribe,

Purchased by interest only, is the Race

To servitude accustomed; trust not them.

Trust thy own judgment, let thy ruling mind

Govern each act of their's. Yet neither here,

Nor elsewhere, mean We in a general blame

T' involve them all. Some from attachment serve,

And to constrictive duty add the tye

Of willing love. Such as a treasure prize,

A countless treasure. Say, by One of these

Is thy Child foster'd? smoothe for her the brow,

The tone of high command; let all her days

Roll on illumed by kindness and esteem;

Think her thy fellow-labourer and thy friend;

Alleviate every future ill of life,

And, if thou can'st, remove them. Ne'er may She

Who with maternal prudence, and the warmth

Of zeal affectionate, hath lent her aid

To form thy Children, to support, to raise

From perilous estate to strength and health,

Feel the distressful sting of poverty,

Or, if the means are not withheld, in thee

Want a protector. But, if more than this,

Her bosom hath the nutriment supplied

Which thine refused, still more may she demand,

And thou in justice grant the liberal boon.

AND Oh! Ingenuous Youth! whose blood now flusht

With yet unsatiated desire, quick beats

In every pulse, to mix in active life

Intent, or climb where science points the way!

Oh Virgin! Who with beauty deckt, and gay

In unperverted innocence around

Survey'st thy Homagers, yet covetest

One faithful heart alone. Oh! recollect

Her assiduity, her diligence,

And tender care, to which Thou owest the frame

Able to cope with business, or sustain

The toil, which knowledge asks, to gather in

Her wide-spread harvest. That attentive zeal,

To which thou owest the comeliness of shape,

Those beauties which from every eye attract

Th' applausive glance, and every breast inspire

With love or admiration. Recollect

Not frigidly, or faintly, like the crew

Who every pleasure center in themselves;

Not with weak indecisive apathy;

But with a bounteous and expanded soul,

Estranged from self, replete with gratitude.

BECAUSE the winged Nations fondly brood

Over their unfledg'd Young; because We view

Where'er reclined, her new-born Offspring press

Close to the Parent Quadruped; because

By instinct irresistible impell'd

The Mother longs t' embrace her infant Charge,

And hide it in her bosom; while thro wilds,

Or o'er the desart mountain as she roves,

The Savage still her clinging Babe sustains:

Some, this communicated warmth affirm

Is needful; and that Man's else-drooping Race

Requires the genial contact. Mindless they,

How far from Nature's simpleness diverge

Our steps, our every action. Were the Child

Unclad by day, unshelter'd thro the night,

We should not hesitate to recommend

What otherwise We smile at, or perchance

Hold but of dubious consequence. Our lays

Have taught what cold his system can repell

First into light immerging: And if cloath'd

As custom bids, he from himself will gain

This added warmth, condensed, and on himself

Recoiling. Better thus, than haply sunk

Beneath the load which our nocturnal rest

Demands, to feel th' intense phlogistic heat

Of temporary fever, or to melt

In copious steam away. Much better thus,

Than by the Mother or the Nurse oppresst

In heavy sleep, to frustrate all the schemes

Parental love had formed; or placed within

Some ancient Hireling's bed, instead of warmth

From generous blood, and balmy breath supplied,

To warm the shrivell'd Dotard. But, if laid

From thee remote, or in the couch with thine

Conjoin'd, why should'st Thou not examine well

And frequently his lodgment? so inform'd,

Thou can'st not fail, O Mother! to perceive

What suits his constitution, what to add,

What to subtract; doubtless thy native sense

Beyond my strains will teach thee, that when rules

Fierce Sirius, lighter vestments will suffice,

Than when Aquarius opes his full-fraught urn,

And Winter arm'd with piercing frost, defies

Th' unwarlike Sun. Thy prudent soul will know

His limbs in health, blest with the temperate mean,

Nor heat nor cold betray. Yet truth forbids

To slight exceptions which are often found

Eluding justest rules. Should some disease

Attack thy Child, and anguish writhe his frame,

To shivering pain thy near approach may give

Solace and ease, nay as it were, foment,

Assuage, and lull the smart; or should He pine

With more than common weakness, from his birth

Afflicted, blasted, or untimely born

With nerves imperfect, as th' exotic flower

Thrives not, but when included from the winds,

It's fibres by the sun's concenter'd rays

Are duly irritated, he may want

Thy vital stimulating heat. But soon

E'en then attempt increase of strength to give

By other means; and seek at first the Bath

Of moderate temperature; by slow degrees

Proceeding, till his habit can support

The powerful shock which colder lymph imparts.

BUT so diffusive is the tyrant reign

Of Fashion; such our table's proud excess;

Such is our love of cards, time's Murderers,

Keen agitators of the gentlest breasts,

(Which ought to be the gentlest,) such those hours,

Those midnight hours, corrodent of the bloom

Which else would decorate the female cheek,

And animate the lips which now are pale:

Such the destructive arts, when beauty fades,

It's meretricious semblance to display,

The lifeless white, and never-varying blush;

Detected by the curious eye, which hates

The fraud, and painted Cytheraea scorns:

Such are our Matrons, such, (except the Few,

Who nobly singular behold, and smile

At Folly's deeds absurd) that all who spring

From them, may well partake the feeble nerve,

And vapid blood, in which more faintly glows

The living principle; and what for some

We erst prescribed, We now prescribe to All,

To all their children; neither do We think

Even to them the song may flow in vain;

For should Caprice applaud, who oft usurps

The throne of Sense, and guides the public taste,

In her wild fit round Merit's brow the wreathe

Intwining, which for Folly she design'd,

They too may cast a glance across the page

Which Fashion bids them read. Know then Ye Fair,

Whom tho my heart approves not, I behold

With truest pity, know, th' unhappy Babes

Whom you have toil'd unceasing to produce

Fragile and delicate, a word of your's

Perhaps may rescue from impending fate.

Oh! issue your commands! great is the power

Of cold: Yourselves no doubt have often sought

In fervid summer it's benign effects

In the salt deep, whence braced You might endure

The winter's hard campaign. And hence new tone

Your Offspring shall derive, their stamina

In some degree corrected, while the force

Of nervous influence more intensely thrills

Th' arterial frame, and the lax Muscle swells.

YE Frigid Springs! wherever first appear

Your bubbling sources, underneath the grot,

Or pendent shade. Ye ever-living Streams!

Where'er Ye wind pellucid thro the vales

Your pastoral mazes, or o'er rocks abrupt

Hurl down your dashing foam. Ye Rivers wide!

Where'er in proud procession to the Main

Your copious tribute rolls: to You my song

Should grateful rise—Ye Naiads! who direct

Each scatter'd rill, ere in coactive strength

They flow exuberant; to your praise attuned

Should sound the note melodious, and your names

Would I, ye Nymphs recount, and joyful paint

Your attributes and virtues—But your Priest,

Your favourite Akenside, his hallow'd lays

Hath not in vain effused, with pious voice

Hymning your benefits; and all around

Your sacred haunts hath cast a magic spell,

Forbidding each profaner foot, the groves,

The caves, the dells obscure where Ye sojourn,

And your chaste bosoms shelter from the fire

Of scorching Phoebus, wantonly t' approach,

Or rudely violate. Nor shall my feet

Profanely tread your dark-embowering shades,

Nor shall my roving eye with curious search

Your deep recesses pierce. Yet, O Ye Springs!

Ye Streams! Ye Rivers clear! And Thou, by whom

They all are fed, to whom they all return,

Exhaustless Ocean! with the general song

Which choral Nature pours, my voice shall join

Tho undistinguish'd; and with all that creep,

Or run, or fly, or vegetate, shall own

Your fructifying, life-preserving power.

Your power, which Thales, which the Man of Thebes

Contemplating, affirm'd to listening Greece,

That water all transcends, unrivall'd, best,

The sole, prolific element of things.

WHETHER your moisture cloathe th' exulting meads

With herbage, or slow-deluging the plain,

You fertilize the soil, while Millions view

The prospect with delight, sure pledge of wealth,

Of copious-teeming harvests. Whether soft

And gentle your refreshing dews descend,

Absorbed by each inhalant leaf and flower.

Whether your rains entangle as they fall

Th' electric fluid, and with vital strength

Each seed inform, each fainting plant supply.

Whether You offer to the thirsty lip

Delicious draughts; or to the anguid frame

Of sickness your invigorating waves

Wherein to bathe, and feel the tonic force

Of Cold at every trial brace the limbs,

The heart, the brain re-act at every shock,

Till all their pristine energy restored

The fibres move responsive to their sway,

And the once loitering blood propell'd anew

Warm thro it's channels to the surface flows.

You, mid the general song which Nature pours,

My grateful strains shall praise. For, not Unread

In Poeon's hallow'd lore, not uninform'd

By chemic Art, your healing qualities

I too may boast to know; and whence derived,

From earths, or salts, or mineral particles,

Combined, suspended by attraction's laws,

Or held in union by aerial chains,

And crown'd with sprightly Gas. Hence, led by hope,

By reason led, I drank with eager lip

At those salubrious springs which make renown'd

Our British Baiae; but th' obstructing cause

Of ill, or relaxation faint remain'd;

Such mischief waits on sedentary hours,

And studious midnight thought. Hence now the shores

Of hoary Neptune, hence the sounding caves

I seek, and turn to the refreshing breeze

My languid face, inhaling, as I sit,

The briny spray; or mark the rising sun

Beyond the vast expanse diffusing wide

His glorious beams, and at his orient light

Dip in the fluid element; nor breathe

To either Power unheeded orisons.

SURELY, not duped by Fancy, I perceive

At times, as struggling to be free, the trace

Of long-forgotten feelings! And my limbs

More firmly press the beach! And t'ward the flood

I move, unaided by ministrant hands.

O DAWLISH! though unclassic be thy name,

By every Muse unsung, should from thy tide,

To keen poetic eyes alone reveal'd,

(From the cerulean bosom of the deep

As Aphrodite rose of old) appear

Health's blooming Goddess, and benignant smile

On her true Votary; not Cythera's fane,

Not Eryx, nor the laurel boughs which waved

On Delos erst, Apollo's natal soil,

However warm enthusiastic Youth

Dwelt on those seats enamour'd, shall to Me

Be half so dear. To thee will I consign

Often the timid Virgin, to thy pure

Incircling waves; to thee will I consign

The feeble Matron, or the Child on whom

Thou may'st bestow a second happier birth

From weakness into strength. And should I view

Unsetter'd with the sound firm-judging mind,

Imagination too return, array'd

In her once-glowing vest, to thee my lyre

Shall oft be tuned, and to thy Nereids green,

Long, long unnoticed in their haunts retired.

Nor will I cease to prize thy lovely strand,

Thy towering cliffs, nor the small babbling brook

Whose shallow current laves thy thistled Vale.

END OF THE FOURTH BOOK.

INFANCY, A DIDACTIC POEM. BOOK V.
BOOK THE FIFTH.

ARGUMENT.

Address to Dr Monro and Dr Hunter.—Death of Hewson lamented—Dr Black.—Subject of the Book, Exercise.—Previous remarks on the Human Frame.—Obscurity of it's laws and actions.—Early tendency to locomotion to be indulged.—Sleep to be procured by constant exercise.—The cradle never to be employed.—Child not to be assisted too much in his efforts.—Benefits of Exercise.—Curiosity not to be check'd.—Advantages to the body, and the formation of the Mind.—Weakly, and deformed Children, gain strength, and recover the misfortune, by Exercise.—The Country the best place for the education of Children.—Neither Cold nor Heat to be shunned.—All the less cultivated Nations escape many diseases, particularly Nervous Ones, by Exercise, Open Air, and Bathing.—Daughters not to be restrained from exercise proper for them.—Bad effects of too much labour, as well as of Idleness.—Origin of Exercise, A supposed fragment from Hesiod.

TO Thee MONRO! whose industry and skill

The Muse can witness, tracing every nerve.

Each tube arterial, vein, and filament,

With the perspicuous steel illustrating

The frame of Man; nor less with vivid force

Of happy diction, to th' observant ear

Teaching that Physiology on truth

And reason founded, which beholds design

And matchless order on the different parts

Impress their functions, and pervade the whole,

From final causes rising to the Prime,

Th' All-wise, All-perfect: and rejecting far

From Physic, from Anatomy, the doubts

Of Pyrrho's followers, and th' assertions lewd

Of shallow Atheists; while in thee survives

Thy Father's spirit, who the school upraised,

With sapient Rutherford combined, and graced

The chair, his Son with equal lustre fills.

These strains MONRO! I consecrate to thee,

To thee, and HUNTER, Rivals tho Ye are,

Yet in my heart, my verse shall Ye be join'd,

Both dear to Science, to your Country dear,

Deserving public fame, and private love.

SHALL HEWSON sink untimely to the grave,

And I the note refuse? refuse to paint

His gentle manners, amiably humane,

Winning with ease their unobtrusive way

Into the breast where Friendship and Esteem

With warm embrace received them? Or his soul

Inquisitive, and ardent to detect

Nature, howe'er conceal'd beneath a cloud

Obscure, and to the search of common eyes

Impenetrable? Shall I not lament

His talents render'd useless? And the bloom

Of Genius wither'd in it's vernal morn.

WHEN Gratitude inspires the strain, shall BLACK

Remain unsung? Who first the path essay'd

Which since by many a bold Adventurer trod,

Hath open'd sources unexplored? disclosed

Subtiler essences; to new pursuits

Awaken'd Chemic Art? And loosed the bonds

Of it's establisht empire? No; while praise

He covets not, and shrinks from due applause,

The Muse shall not in silence praetermit

His lucid facts, and philosophic toil.

THO foremost in the ranks of Being stand

The Men, who active in the cause of truth,

Divine, or moral, or to human life

Subservient, with unceasing labour ply

Their task severe; to free th' embodied Mind,

And it's ideas raise above the ken

Of dull Mortality; by useful Arts

Invented, or improved, to subjugate,

And undeceive reluctant Error, bring

To the true test of just experiment

Her specious visions, and elucidate

Her dark perplexities; yet is not He

Among the lowest, who their precepts strives

More widely to disseminate, arrange

In varied order their materials, place

Objects the same in different points of view,

Or cloath'd in fresher garb, attention win

By seeming novelty. Nor shall the Bard

Howe'er condemn'd by folly, to the rank

Which petulance assigns Him deign to stoop

His crest indignant, while He feels within

That living zeal, which by occasion fired,

Would prompt his soul to dare celestial themes;

Inforce the rules of action which connect

Each social bond; or each ingenious mode

Of Art unveil, whence profit or delight

Arise; and captivate with thrillings sweet

Of unluxurious pleasure the nice ear

Of sensibility: With thoughts select

On which no vulgar images intrude

Th' affections and the passions mingling bland.

ERE in our lays instructive, We proceed,

And dedicate the verse to Exercise,

'Twere fit to search with deep attentive care

The Human Fabric, it's component parts

And Nature to determine, were it given

To Poet or Philosopher to treat

A subject so mysterious unreproved.

MUCH hath Anatomy distinguish'd, much

Remains unknown; the rudiments of life

Who ever shall explore? Where dwells the Power

Inherent, or acquired, which first expands

The comprehensive germ? Which moulds, propells,

And inorganic fluid can convert

To animated fibre? In the Brain

Does it reside? Or in the central Heart?

Or do they both their energy combine?

Is it subtle, elastic, and derived

From that ethereal Essence which perchance

All space informs, and every substance fills?

Or is it from the blood by wondrous means

Secreted, render'd volatile, sublimed,

A pure, peculiar spirit? From his state

Of vegetable torpor when released,

Whate'er it be, by this the Infant lives,

By this He moves; by this th' absorbents bear

Their nurture from the stomach to the veins,

The wasted blood's supply, whose siner parts

Perpetually exhale; this gives the lungs

To play, which from the circumambient air

It's vital principle inspire, and yield

Th' effete mephitic vapour back again.

This stimulates the heart, and by the heart

And irritated fibres is in turn

Excited, quicken'd, strengthen'd: This extends

The solids, and enlarges, hasting on

The circulating stream. This generates,

Or is of living Heat the copious fount,

Active while it exists, without it's aid

Soon changed to deadly cold. By this, the nerves

Of every various sense with speed convey

Each impulse to the Brain, infixing there

Th' indelible ideas, there arranged,

Connected, modified, they haply form

Or seem at least to form the Soul Itself,

Immortal, immaterial: Hence the stores

Of wisdom are establish'd; hence the flash

Of wit bursts forth; and hence with keenest glance

Imagination darts her eye throughout

This mundane space, pierces beyond it's bounds,

And Worlds creates, and Beings all her own.

IS it of Heavenly origin? A ray,

A portion of Divinity, this Power

Miraculously working? Guided sure

By other springs it acts than those of chance;

For chance is nothing, a chimaera framed

From non-existence by the breath of Fools.

We see the deeds of highest Intellect,

The finger of a God. Profound We bend

In adoration, and tho all his ways

We know not, tho implicit darkness hang

Over this universe immense, confess

That nothing short of Deity, could e'er

Conceive, or raise the edifice of Man.

YET, while the mystic elements of things

Are undiscover'd still, while hidden lye

Th' interior Agents; while to Man himself

Man is a Being which his utmost pains

Have fail'd to analyse; while tho we view,

Or think we view the circling chain of life

Depending link on link, in many a part

Chasms intervene, unfill'd but by the touch

Of vague conjecture, or of fancy wild:

The power of Observation is not given

In vain; or handed down from Age to Age

Facts by experience sanctified; nor shines

Fruitless the torch of clear Analogy.

Or superseding all, the purest light

The steadiest, Nature yields; unerring beams,

Which point the way to truth, while Reason smiles,

And Judgment walks secure. O Nature! thee,

Goddess benign! when first this theme I chose

In early youth, with aspiration warm

I call'd; thee vow'd to follow; unrepell'd

By Art's fastidious brow; or System's frown,

Unwarp'd by Theory's delusive voice.

For thou Alone the faithful Monitor

Art placed within; thy motions if observed,

Forever point to good. Nor will I now

Desert thee, or retract what then I swore.

For not from Thee we only learn to raise

The frame corporeal to it's destined pitch

Of health and strength; to ward with certain shield

The darts of sickness; or if rushing on,

Disease o'erwhelm us with impetuous might,

To catch the rapid moment, and at once

Expell the Foe, or waste his violence

By due protraction, till he quit the field:

But, if by tyrant Habit unenslaved,

If unimpair'd by affectation vile,

And imitative manners swimming down

The stream of head-long custom; Thine is all

The mental glory: Virtue, taste, design

Unborrow'd, glowing thoughts, expression strong,

The full emphatic eloquence of prose,

The liquid flow of melody, the burst

Of torrent rapture, and each foaming wave

Which swells the boundless tide of verse sublime.

To Nature then, with me, O Parent Mind!

Stoop lowly; and observe her impulse rouse

From his first slumbrous state awaked, thy Child.

How soon, tho active vigour be denied,

His arms, his feet the tendency display

To loco-motion, and his roving eye

Darting swift glances; pleased that nought around

Should be at rest, nor pleased with rest himself.

INDULGING this propensity, to all

His free unfetter'd limbs allow their quick

And yet unsteady efforts; let him gain

From his Attendant, what he seems to ask,

Perpetual exercise; tho not at first

To agitation violent exposed,

Or tost in playful wantonness on high,

But gradually proceeding. Treated thus,

Kept in unceasing action while awake,

He will not need the Cradle's most absurd

Pernicious motion, which the giddy brain

Confuses, and benumbs; on him shall steal

A softer, sweeter, more refreshing sleep.

Nor blame the Muse, whose iterated strains,

Neglecting slavish art, it's use forbid:

Wishing th' Invention with deserv'd contempt

Exiled forever; with th' untoward Swing,

The Go-cart, and the Leader, be it doom'd

To blank oblivion; or preserv'd with them

Only in some Museum's nitch devote,

Teach future times, from past examples wise,

More ardently to follow Nature's paths,

Her simpleness to venerate, and own

Her all-sufficient dictates. Let thy Child

Enjoy his balmy slumber uncompell'd,

Or by himself alone acquired, from due

Instinctive exercise: And let Him learn,

Untaught by others, his allotted talk,

To creep, to stand, to walk; and let him know

Full early no assistance will be lent

In aught which by his proper strength and skill

He can accomplish. So shall strength and skill

Hourly increase; so He by days and months

The puny Infant shall excell, deprived

By doating fondness of his native powers;

Or to the care of Laziness assign'd,

Who suffers Him with tottering step to drag

Incumbent, while the faithful eye alone

Should watch, or ready hand with gentlest touch

Uphold. Nor think (an argument of yore

For binding every limb) his tender form

Will from his own exertions e'er receive

Substantial injury; a posture wrong

Uneasiness will prompt Him to correct:

Nor will his feebleness permit the force

Inducing harm, so strictly to his weight

Proportion'd: And how soon, uncheckt by art,

Inherent sense, will threatened danger shun,

Is wondrous. Vanquish then ideal fears.

And on the matt, or carpet let him sport,

And feel his growing vigour; or entice

To their extremest verge his infant sight

With becks, and smiles, and captivating toys.

FOR ends most wise, and most important, flows

Redundantly profuse within thy Child

This active principle. By Exercise

The quicken'd pulse and stimulated heart

More truly shape each fibre, give to each

Their tension, and elastic spring; urge on

In swift and properly successive waves

The crimson fluid, and from thence secern

The different humours, healthy, bland and pure,

While thro their various channels are detach'd

The recremental dregs, of acrid kind,

Or fraught with particles to human life

Destructive. Exercise supports the flame

Of life itself, that steady heat, which glows,

And with peculiar fixedness, resists

External cold: Nor, in the torrid Zone,

Where Phoebus beams direct his fiercest ray,

Is by the scorching atmosphere increased

To morbid violence. By Exercise

The stomach unopprest, digests, concocts,

Assimilates, the generous chyle prepares,

And feels again the necessary goad

Of keenest appetite. That balance nice

With which health corresponds, of part to part,

Of muscles to their due antagonists,

Fluids to solids, to themselves, the just

Mixture, proportion, influence, strength of all;

Even th' invisible ethereal stream,

As vigorous, or weak, condensed, or rare,

Sensation, passion, intellect, nay more,

Virtue, and vice, on Exercise depend.

KNOW it's advantage then; nor judge thy Child

With this profusion of activity

Endow'd in vain. For Nature rules within,

Sage tutoress, and he now will soon acquire

By her instinctive precepts more than years

Of labouring education can impart,

So She be not in froward mood opposed,

Or not unseconded by thee. Behold,

And aid her movements, let him see and smell,

Hear, taste, and touch all objects at his will.

So the deceptive senses shall be fix'd;

So early repetition shall bestow

That just discrimination, that acute

Perceptive swiftness, which in future life

Seems instantaneous and intuitive,

Innate, and unpossest by second means.

NOR as with limbs more firm He treads, impede

His restless ardour, his inquisitive

And eager curiosity, which learns,

Approaching nigh, the varied form of things,

Their distance, situation, what resists,

Or yields, th' innocuous, and replete with harm.

Excite, impell him forward; and when Mind

Now beams apparent, and the flexile tongue,

By imitation, and habitual use,

Can utter sounds articulate, the names

Of every object teach him to repeat;

Add daily to his store of images

Simple, and unabstracted; let him walk

Or run the verdant fields and lawns along,

Nor Thou disdain t' attend him, and point out

As giddy apprehension can receive,

Or roving fancy lists, each herb, and tree,

Mountain, and stream, and mineral, the birds

Which skim the liquid air, or from the brake

Pour their sweet voices, herds, and bleating flocks,

Insects on wing, or on the lowly ground.

With him the nimble grashopper pursue,

And chace the gawdy butterfly; or strive

To catch the variegated bow which plants

It's base on earth, now near, but soon removed

To distant hills; or bid him mark the Sun

Refulgent shining; or the clouds diverse;

At eve, the silver moon, crescent, or full;

And every star whose radiance decks the sky.

THUS shalt Thou see with pleasure on his cheek

Health's genial hue, his limbs proportion'd just,

And beauteous, as of yore the little Loves

In Paphos, and Idalia, or as still

Warm from Albano's magic touch they breathe;

Sportive as Zephyr, agile as the Son

Of Maia, when his infant hand deceived

Apollo's piercing sight, and stole his lyre.

THUS Reason's structure shalt Thou help to form,

Laying the sure foundation, and avoid

Their error, who the memory haply load

With numerous words, and think their Child endow'd

With parts prodigious, should He get by rote

Sonorous trifles, useless, and to him

Incomprehensible; debarr'd meanwhile

From action, which invigorates the frame,

And every curious sense directs to things,

Momentous, and substantial, understood

At once, or by spontaneous efforts stamp'd

On the sensorium, ne'er to be erased.

REJECT their error. Nor should strength of Nerve

To thy ill-fortuned Offspring be denied,

Should e'en his limbs more tardily perform

Their office, and distortedly relaxt,

Trembling sustain their burthen; heed the voice

Of prejudice, or foolish tenderness,

Which, nature's power unknown, would recommend

Forbearance, and each slight exertion dread.

Rather endeavour by repeated use

To brace the fibres; Exercise can string

The slacken'd muscles, which their native tone

Shall reassume, and conquer by degrees

Hated deformity. Nor, should a cause

Obscure, and singular, as such may be

Withhold Him from th' assiduous playfulness

Which Health and Nature love; indulge th' inert

And heavy disposition; chide, invite,

Force Him to move; lest sullen apathy,

And stupor, the phlegmatic Habit's curse,

To their devoted victim cling thro life.

WITHOUT design, the lawns, and verdant fields,

We introduced not; mid the rural haunts

Was placed the tender nurseling; and from thence

If possible, for many a rolling year

Let nothing tempt thee with thy charge to seek

The baneful town. The country boasts alone

Untainted gales; the Joys, and frolic Sports

Here revel; Temperance here awhile defies

Encroaching Luxury, and beneath it's shades

Primeval, lingers Innocence of soul,

And cherub-wing'd Simplicity. Here dwells

Th' unvitiated Muse, and thro the glade,

By Alphin's willow'd margin, or beneath

His lofty elms, or mid his apple groves

Thick blossoming, tunes th' elegiac strain,

Or meditates, as now, th' instructive lay:

Escaped from slavery, from the din of fools,

From envy, and deceit, the treacherous crew,

Who worse than fever or the pestilence

Infect the city's mansions; here intent

To meet Hygeia, and with her invert

The garden mould, copartner of her toil,

Or raise the drooping flower, or from the tree

Prune it's luxuriant branches; or ascend

With her the swelling hill, or urge the steed

Across the neighbouring down, or bait the hook,

And tempt th' unwary native of the stream.

Oh! Thou Propitious Power! tho long exiled,

The Muse hath met thee here! Whence easier spring

Th' ideas from their secret source, around

Fancy once more her fairy visions spreads.

Light is the destined task, melodious airs

Inspire the bowers, and softer numbers breathe.

IF Sickness enter not the rural dells,

Or vanquisht by the purer atmosphere

Give place to radiant health; consider well

What desperate ills thy Children may elude

Here educated, in whose veins yet flows

Unsullied ichor, by the steams which rise,

Mortal, and gross, in the throng'd city's bounds

Unchanged. Nor regulate with anxious zeal

Their pastimes and excursions, let them bend,

As tutor'd from within, each pliant limb,

Each mode of varied exercise essay,

Enjoy their animation, and the sting

Of innate sprightliness. Nor let them shun

Accustomed thus, the summer's noonday heat,

Or winter's freezing sky. Th' Inhabitants

Of every region are by nature apt

It's warmth, or cold to bear, it's shifting winds,

And quick vicissitudes: in frigid climes

Still more alert, and stimulated more

To necessary action. Oh! forewarn'd,

Thy Children in the stifling dome, howe'er

Grateful to thee, include not; and misled

By phantoms of imaginary harm,

Superfluous vestments, tho defensive deem'd,

Wrap not around them. So their vital powers

To danger unobnoxious, shall repell

All immature assaults; their nerves robust

Escape the morbid tenderness of thine,

Source of unnumber'd ailments; whence the mind

Itself at length unhing'd, is timid, weak,

Irresolute, and to sensations doom'd,

Which tho they must exist, can scarce be borne.

OF polisht idleness which shrinks from toil,

And cautious trembles at th' external blast,

This is the sad result. While all the Tribes

Uncultivated, whether in the wilds

Canadian, or Brazilian, on the steep

Of Caucasus, in Africa, or Ind,

In the Malayan Isles, or those late seen

By Him, illustrious Chief whose timeless fate

Britannia mourns, and shall forever mourn,

Whate'er erroneous customs they possess,

Howe'er productive of peculiar ills,

From this at least are free, this languor wan,

These nervous horrors which o'erwhelm the soul.

But from activity, from open skies,

And the lustration of pellucid streams,

Unmoved support each accident of life,

Cold, hunger, thirst, and pain; nay dauntless meet,

And cheerfully resign'd, the stroke of death.

THUS too of old upon Eurota's banks,

Or in the martial field near Tiber's waves,

From hardy childhood, Lacedaemon saw,

And Rome majestic, those intrepid bands,

Which taught the sons of haughty Greece to stoop,

Or subjected the world. To labour train'd

From early years, thus, undebauch'd by courts,

And softening indolence, in glory's page

Enroll'd, and with her laurels deckt, have shone

Princes, and Heirs of Empire. Thus, advanced

From Persia's borders, unrelaxt, and brave,

Cyrus, whom Babylonia's walls in vain

Resisted, and the Myriads which obey'd

Lydia's enervate Monarch, while his crown

He slavishly survived, and baser still

Survived his liberty. Thus, mid the rocks

Of Bearn, as lived the youthful Peasant Race,

From them unknown, but by his royal mien,

With feet unfandall'd, and uncover'd head,

Henry, the future Pride of France, was raised

By true maternal virtue. Hence He quell'd

Iberia's new Geryon; hence, the League

That factious Hydra gored with many a wound,

And finally subdued: hence, graced his throne;

And peace and plenty thro his realms diffused.

LET then the sturdy Boy unlimited

Follow the bent of nature; nor too soon

Enslave thy Daughter; let her limbs possess

Their utmost freedom to th' extremest verge

Which custom will permit. The lengthen'd walk,

The more delightful ride, the mazy dance

Whose rapid evolutions ever please,

These, fashion, rigid decency allow,

Whate'er her age: and if each day pursued

In regular succession, will create

That mode of happy texture, which attracts

The Lover's eye desiring; where the blood

Speaks in the mantling cheek, but unsuffused

With coarse and vulgar crimson; where the frame

Is healthy, not robust, and elegant,

Not delicately fragile. Purer minds,

And gentler manners Fancy here beholds,

By peevishness untinctured, undisturb'd

By malice and suspicion; nor perchance

Views with illuded eye. For much the Soul

Depends on her Companion. Exercise

Too far impell'd, abnormous, and for years

Continued, renders dense the nervous tide,

Or to the seat of thought at length imparts

Ideot rigidity. Th' effects of Age

Intemperate toil can prematurely bring

On the worn frame, and sad untimely death.

While Idleness relaxing every nerve

The mobile fluid is deranged by strokes

Of slightest force, nor life is worth the name.

WHAT then do We advise? At first intent

On the corporeal organs, Nature strives

T' unfold, to strengthen them; and calls in aid

Their own endeavours, restless, and untamed.

In her more simple state, by keen desire

Of food the loco-motive powers are roused;

The Savage else inactively reclines

In his low shed, or underneath the palm,

Or spreading cedar, if not urged to war,

And it's impetuous deeds, by hot revenge:

Superiour swiftness and superiour strength

His highest excellence, and only boast,

The soul neglected, and to him unknown

It's finer feelings, and extatic joys.

BUT in those climes where polity hath smooth'd

Our innate roughness, where humanely taught,

By wholesome laws conjoin'd, by th' intercourse

Of liberal manners, and th' incircling chain

Of Arts and Commerce, there the faculties

Of nobler birth are prized; the general-weal

Defends each individual, who less heeds,

Or values strength, except as far as health

Asks his attention; nor the body sole,

But mind, while gather the successive years,

Parental notice claims. When this expands,

Controul too fervid action, regulate

It's wilder efforts. Social life requires

The head considerate, and the labouring hand,

Business and speculation, study deep,

And enterprise which laughs at danger's frown,

Tost on the stormy billows, or engaged

In fighting fields. Whate'er his lot, adapt

Thy Child to vigorous deeds, or strenuous thought.

Let Exercise and Books with mutual sway

Divide his time well-govern'd. Who alone

Pursues the hare, the fox, and bounding stag,

Or pores unceasing on the mouldy page,

Equal contempt and blame deserves. Nor fail

If totally their charms engross the soul,

Acute Philosophy, or e'en the Muse

With all her softer beauties, to contract

The span of life, to fill that span minute

With languor, discontent, disease, and pain.

ERE We conclude, this added verse receive,

From Greece derived; for as of late immerst

In rapturous thought, Memory it's Chiefs pourtray'd

It's Sages, Patriots, Bards, Apollo's Self

Appear'd, or in my day-dream seem'd t' appear.

With Him the car I press'd, which swiftly flew

O'er continents, and seas; not swifter rush'd

The trident-bearing God to Simois' plains,

When under his immortal feet the woods

Umbrageous, and extensive mountains shook.

We gain'd Boeotia, where arose the cliffs

Of Helicon, th' impurpled lawn I trod,

And to it's top beyond my feeble ken,

Ascended my Conductor, where He join'd

Th' expectant choir, whose harmony methought

Far distant struck my ear. But on a bank

With lotus and with hyacinth o'erspread

Reclined th' Ascraean Poet, Him I knew,

For by his side was placed the verdant branch

Of scepter'd laurel, which the Muses erst

With their own hands bestow'd, and bad him sing

Their high descent, and all th' ethereal Race.

His sheep were scatter'd round, and many Swains,

And many Virgins with attentive ear

Imbibed his flowing numbers, with the throng

I mingled, and regretting that so late

My footsteps had arrived, for now his strains

Were well-nigh finisht, and the sun declined

T'ward ocean's bed, with deep respectful awe

Heard his last notes, while thus the Master sung.

"His anger ceased; for on the rocks which bound

The solid earth, with adamantine chains

Braced firm, Prometheus groan'd, while on his prey

The screaming eagle darted from above.

And Epimetheus too of vacant soul

Had as a Bride received the treacherous Maid

Vulcan's alluring work, with graces fraught

Celestial, but diffusing evils dire.

When now the sovereign Father bade convene

The subject Powers; soft pity fill'd his breast

For new-created Man; on golden thrones,

They sate in order due; He thus address'd

Th' assembled Deities. Ye Sons of Heaven!

Who on Olympus dwell, or ocean's waves

Inform, or o'er the streams prefide, or haunt

The woods, and forests! with avengement just

The Traitor is exiled, who first prefumed

Our living fire to steal, who expiates now

His guilt, and stretch'd upon the Scythian crags

Horrific, lies exposed to pieroing winds,

Fierce-driving rain, and snow, or beating hail,

Which with unmitigable violence

Assault his desolate abode. Nor fails

Our ravenous Bird at early morn to seek

His nightly-growing feast. Such punishment

From us He merited; nor have we spared

His favour'd mortals, with Pandora's gifts

Enchanted, by her blandishments subdued.

But them We now with kinder eye behold,

Ill-form'd to last, and verging to decay

Hourly; no doubt with skill and care composed,

Worthy their Author, and with Heaven's own flame

Instinct, from our ethereal dome procured

By fraudful stratagem; yet weak to bear

The changeful elements, diseases fell,

And accidental ills, a numerous train;

Too exquisitely wrought, and destined soon

Again to mingle with their kindred clay,

Unless their fate some means yet unreveal'd

Awhile protract; t'ward them my wrath relents,

Not of themselves, from their own previous wills

Originated, and to transient life

From dust upraised. To you the means I leave

Immortal Powers. Who wishes to preserve

The race terrestrial, hapless, and forlorn,

From speedy dissolution, may explain

Free, and unblamed the dictates of his heart.

"HE spoke. Then Pallas with attentive eye,

Smiling, beheld the Deities around,

Or pondering silent, or consulting deep.

Smiling She sate; but graceful from her throne

At length arose, and thro th' effulgent hall,

Proceeding o'er the jasper pavement, sought

The door high-arch'd, whose valves of solid gold

Spontaneous open'd; ere again they closed,

The blue-eyed Maid return'd, and by the hand

Led in the prime of youth, and blooming charms,

A Nymph of heavenly mien, and as it seem'd

A sister Goddess. On her cheeks was spread

The glowing hue of Hebe; waving hung

And loose her raven locks, but just confined;

Her robe succinct a golden clasp upheld

Baring the knee: Not languishingly soft

Like Venus in her gait, nor rivalling

Majestic Juno; but in all her limbs

Dwelt symmetry divine, activity,

And sparkling ardour; while her hand sustain'd

A spear, too light for battles dire, in which

Mars wields his massy javelin, but to feats

Of mimic war adapted, or to wage

The Sylvan conflict. To the feet of Jove

Led on, th' assembled Powers at once survey'd

Her virgin Form with wonder and desire,

As from her breath perfumes, and from her hair

Dropp'd fragrant roses. Then Minerva paused,

And thus began. O Father! see with thine

How all my thoughts accord. The means I bring

Thy destined aim to perfect; from their fate

Suddenly threatening hapless Man to save,

And bless with length of days: by this my work,

This beauteous Nymph, whom I with plastic hand

In emulation of Vulcanian skill,

Or Promethean, fashion'd; not of earth,

Or fire, like their productions, but of pure

And elemental aether; nor by Thee

Forbidden, or with anger now survey'd.

Her name Gymnasia, and in future times,

And regions yet by mortal feet untrod,

Health-giving Exercise. For she the race

Of Men shall urge t' exertion and to toil,

Snatch from Pandora's arms the tender Babe,

String his young nerves, and thro th' eventful scenes

Of chequer'd life support him, scattering wide

The mists of torpid indolence, the worst

Of all the plagues, which in the fatal box

Were stored, whose sweetness poisons, and the frame

Weak of itself, to double weakness dooms.

"SHE said. The Power superiour, with a smile

Approved her wisdom, with a smile that cheer'd

Heaven, earth, and seas; viewing the lovely Nymph

Moulded by her, and by her skill adorn'd,

The stedfast Friend, and Guardian of Mankind.

"THEY thro the yielding air with speedy flight

Descended, hasting to the Nether World;

With acclamations loud, Olympus rang."

END OF THE FIFTH BOOK.

INFANCY, A DIDACTIC POEM. BOOK VI.
BOOK THE SIXTH.

ARGUMENT.

Address to Dr Milman.—The Author declines treating particularly of the Diseases of Children.—The treatment of Diseases in general, cannot be taught to the Vulgar; nor could those of Children be contained in a work like this; much less could the skill and judgment be imparted necessary for the administration of Remedies.—False notion, because Children cannot describe their feelings, that the seats and causes of their Diseases are therefore unknown.—Diseases of Children not so simple as Some have imagined.—The Causes also are many and various.—Necessity of applying for speedy assistance.—This, even should it be unsuccessful, will binder the remorse which might follow a different conduct.—The effects of this remorse exemplified in an Episode.—Inoculation.—Rise and progress of the Smallpox.—Introduction of Inoculation into Europe by Lady Mary Wortley Montague.—This duty inculcated.—Conclusion.

TO thee, whom laudable Ambition fires,

Surmounting every obstacle, to climb

The height of science, rivalling the fame

Of Arbuthnot, or Garth, or learned Mead:

With whom in life's gay morn my heart inwove

A bond of union, which no power but death

Can e'er untwine: whose warm, whose liberal voice

Hath oft approved my strains, in this perchance

Too partial, yet humane, and in the song

Contemplating the Friend: This verse, to thee,

MILMAN! as worthier of thy classic ear,

I now devote; nor would I on thy time

Sacred to public good, or studious thought,

Intrude the futile levities of wit,

Or useless elegance, howe'er refined.

WITH prudence nursed, and by it's precepts formed,

Thy Child, O Parent! haply will ascend

Unhurt to manhood. Yet, events there are,

Which not my lays can teach the means to shun,

Nor thy assiduous caution can elude.

For He is mortal, and to mortal ills

Prone from his birth. Each violent Disease

The human race invading, may be his:

And some, confined, exert their baleful force

On Infancy, and Childhood. What, thy care,

What, rural scenes, what the pure lymph, and food

Aptly supplied; what his own active powers

Indulged, the frigid bath, and cleanliness,

With regulation due of heat and cold,

Can frustrate or prevent, and much they may,

He will avoid. At least the shafts of Death

Shall oft be blunted, Nature's vigorous arm

Her shield protending, while her faithful aid

Joins with thy ardent wishes. Is thy mind,

Anxious, and fond, with this unsatisfied?

And dost thou ask the latent plagues to view

Skulking in ambush? know their different signs?

Learn their Prognostics, fatal, or secure?

And the resources which progressive Time

Hath found, and liberal Practice can select?

WHAT wilt Thou gain, so taught? Augmented fears,

Doubled anxiety. In every look

If slightly changed, in every wanton cry,

Or sudden start, thy love solicitous

The feeds of dire disaster will perceive,

And haste with needless remedies t' oppose

A fancied mischief, till thy Infant feels

Perhaps thus often treated, real pain.

Say, that Disease were fixt, and that our page

Lay full before thee fraught with justest rules;

Could'st thou with timid mind, and throbbing heart,

Presume t' apply them? Would'st thou not, immerst

In hesitation, all attempts forego?

If not, the tone, and bias of thy soul

Mistaking, We for such as thee ne'er strung

The lyre humane, nor e'er the lyre will string.

YET, much the welfare of thy Child We prize;

And doubtless, even from his natal hour

Beginning, could in graphic order paint

Every distemper, each appropriate name

Disclose, their diverse symptoms and their cure.

And when th' instructive plan We first essay'd,

Imagination's inconsiderate eye

Colleagued with Youth, this finish'd work beheld.

But Judgment, render'd stronger by the lapse

Of twice seven years, rejects the green design.

A theme inelegant, for verse unfit,

Tedious, and long, and barren, and to Thee

Of little profit, nay with danger stored.

A TASK like this, the Muse without regret

Leaves to some Medicaster, who the quill,

Dextrously wielding, aims at vulgar praise.

We know the failure of Generic marks

Employ'd on Species; near the bed of pain

We know what nice distinction is required,

What accurate serenity of thought,

What sedulous attention, to collect

Each circumstance minute; and from the traits

Commingled and fictitious, to detach

What suits peculiar natures, and the turns

Of endless and immense Varieties.

WOULD then the Mother, would the wary Nurse,

(If such there be) from so disturbed a fount,

To them disturbed, it's muddy waters draw?

And sport with human life? Not thus reproach'd

Shall flow my numbers, which the hand of rash

Or doating Ignorance shall ne'er supply

With poison. Never will I stoop to win

The Multitude's applause by deeds or words

Which candour must despise. Nor e'en in song

Reflections cast on others, that on me

May light the praise of fools; tho plansible

Each note appeared, and for the common good

Intended solely: Much less with abuse

Degrade the very Art I once profess'd.

For conscious of the toil it's practice claims,

Th' inquietude, the watchful nights, the days

To thought intense devote, when jovial Mirth

Holds it's nocturnal orgies, and the voice

Of empty Vanity is heard at noon,

Tho far beneath th' illustrious Great, I knew

What form'd their sterling worth, and placed them high

Above the selfish, mean, Empiric race.

SUCH were the Sages of th' Asclepian line;

Thus, from the Coan, to th' incipient age

Of Boerhaave, lived the Prime of every school:

Thus Sydenham, over every school Supreme;

Such Huxham lately ran his course of fame.

While GLASS with evening brightness still adorns

The western sky, and proves not yet extinct

The true, the genuine Hippocratic beams.

Patient t' observe, They unremitting, scann'd

The book of Nature, while their souls enlarged

Took in, and added to their proper store

All past experience, methodized, and clear.

How vain their labour! if a tract compiled

By some assuming, specious shallow Scribe,

Could teach th' inferior orders of Mankind

With strict discernment thro the tangled maze

Of it's progressive symptoms, to conduct

Each dangerous Malady, it's cause unveil,

And each adapted remedy prepare:

Could these my strains embrace the various ails

Infesting Childhood, to thine eyes display

The various antidotes, and give that sound

Unerring judgment, which alone acquired

By use and contemplation, can insure

The proper time of trial, can advise

With confidence, and justify the deed.

YET, what We may, what nor the Muse forbids,

Nor our own sense condemns, is freely thine.

IF from the Mother's bosom We remove

Those false opinions which her gentle soul

Unwittingly possess; if we describe

The limits of her care, and when t' invoke

Superior Wisdom's aid; if on her mind

Some duties we impress; and tyrant fear,

And more tyrannic superstition drive

Far from her dwelling, not in vain We write:

And many a fell disease o'ercome, her Sons,

Her Daughters shall hereafter bless the day

Which brought these well-meant numbers to her ear.

BECAUSE the Child, with reason unendow'd

And power of speech, by words t' express his grief

Nature permits not; some believe the source

Of anguish and affliction is conceal'd

From every eye, and deem assistance vain.

Or to the Nurse, or vaunting Midwife trust,

Who cases manifold and similar

Have oft beheld, and never fail'd to cure:

For Each her Nostrum boasts; if harmless this,

And trifling, it were well, did not the wing

Of Time speed fast th' irrevocable hour

Of wisht redress. But frequently the drug

They praise, the cordial drops are fraught with death,

Hurrying convulsions on of direst kind;

Or with narcotic venom strong imbued,

Plunging their Patient in eternal sleep.

YET, Nature, in thy Child, tho not in words,

Speaks plain to those who in her language verst

Justly interpret. Are the different tones

Of woe, unfaithful sounds? Can He, whose sight

Hath traced the various muscles in their course,

When irritated in the different limbs,

Retracted, or extended, or supine,

Fix no conclusions on the seat of pain?

Is it of no avail to mark the breath,

How drawn? the face? the motions of the eye?

The salient pulse? th' eruptions on the skin?

The skin itself, constricted, or relaxt?

The mode of sleep? of watching? heat? and thirst?

From which, and numerous traits beside, arranged,

Combined, abstracted, and maturely weigh'd,

Judgment it's practice forms? Are characters

Like these, which ask the nice-decyphering soul,

Intelligible to the Beldames Old

Who wrapt in darkness, utter prophesies

And lying oracles, which cheat the ear,

Or follow'd, to destruction lead the way?

Oh! may good Angels, kindling in thy breast

The lamp of reason, guard thee from their snares!

Blind Guides, assiduous to deceive the Blind.

TRUTHS partially adopted oft admit

Ingressive Error. Children are presumed,

As fresh from Nature's hand, with maladies

Of simpler kind to labour, than the frame

Of grosser Age. Say, this belief were true?

A general rule? If simpler than they are

Hence treated, still we cannot but decry

Th' unsound opinion which for all alike

One favourite mode of practice recommends.

If just the notion, Aesculapius' Son

Might as a vain intruder be dismiss'd,

The Mother could supply his place unblamed.

But, (nor with idle terrors do we seek

To wound affection) from experience taught,

We know what medicines, different in effect,

And opposite, the varying symptoms claim.

Antiphlogistics which the vital heat

Increased, depress; and Cardiacs which excite;

And Opiate Sedatives, in vulgar hands

Pernicious as the deadly nightshade's juice.

And Drastics harsh, which utmost skill alone,

And wise discretion, when the moment calls,

Should dare advise. Th' uncomprehensive Mind,

Or prejudiced, or wishing to repose

In inactivity, is likewise prone

To simplify the causes, and accuse

That which perhaps exists not, but which reigns

As it conjectures, eminent o'er all.

THE wild delusions which this source affords,

With silent scorn or pity hath the Muse

Often attested. The luxuriant glands,

In Infants stiled of disproportion'd size,

And the too copious fluids they secern,

Or tough and viscid, Some alone condemn.

As if these glands by nature were ordain'd

So large without design, or worse, to prove

The cisterns of disease. Acidity

Some only blame; and some, the sting severe

Of acrimonious humours. These accuse

The noisome worm, however hid from fight.

Those, as exciting fever, reprobate

Nought but the growing teeth. Repletion, Some.

While Others dreadful fits survey within,

Or e'en pretend to trace them in the smile

Of downy sleep. Nor Women solely err.

The Pedant has his whims; and He, the light

Fantastic Form, who superficial skims

The froth of science, yet would fain appear

Most intimate in it's profoundest depths,

Nor a phaenomenon beholds, to which,

Like the first Man, intuitively wise,

He cannot give a name. What strange conceits

Have not Philosophers embraced? Intent

The principles of Galen to defend?

Or to deduce from chymic elements

Recondite causes? Or the line apply

And mathematic rule, to buildings raised

On mere imaginary ground? Or search

The moon, and aspects of the distant stars?

While Some, from animated Beings, thick

Diffused thro space, invisibly minute,

Have every ill derived, tormenting Man.

LET All who will, enjoy their pleasing dreams,

So human life be safe; and Theory

Held in firm durance, never guide the pen

When sickness needs assistance. But, of this

Be sure, O Parent! to thy Children flow

From numerous causes, which would tire thy ear,

And pass the stated limits of our verse,

Their diverse ails; tho not perhaps like Us

Subject to putrid ferments, yet from them

Not wholly free, nor from the power of cold,

Of sultry heat, of humid air, and dry,

And fell Contagion, whose resistless aim

If placed within it's reach, no Wight can shun

Of mortal mould, nor e'er escape the bane,

Unless around her favourites Nature cast

Impenetrable mail, no work of art.

SHALL then by fear impeded, None attempt

To rescue Childhood from distress and pain,

But those, by long and toilsome study taught,

T' investigate the cause, the symptoms scan,

And judge what they portend? Th' impartial heart

Unmoved by sordid lucre, by the goad

Of mean self-interest, wishes to the Race

Of Infant Innocence, no worse a fate.

But not to combat what the Muses Nine,

And e'en the Delian God with all his power,

Could never vanquish; and because the step

Of Paeon's Votary is not always near;

Attend our strains. When the weak head declines,

And the eye droops; when now th' inconstant cheek

Is red, now pale; when fretful, restless, hot;

The stomach and intestines discomposed,

And in their office changed; when the young springs

Of life more quick or tardy seem to move

Than Nature wills; We would not to thy Child

Forbid thee (tho We dare not recommend,

Nor can approve the deed, unless by fate

Widely sequester'd from th' experienced eye,

Reason's sole plea;) to give a portion due

Of th' Indian root; or taught the quantity

With nice exactness, which his Age may claim,

Some useful Antimonial; or, that mild,

Insipid, light, absorbent, by it's name

Magnesia, better known, or join'd with this

More strengthening Rhéum, from Siberian wilds,

Or Turkey's regions brought. Here ends thy care.

For now the transient obstacles o'ercome,

Alacrity returns; or still He pines,

Still his distemper gains increasing force.

And if the cause should thus be deeply fixt,

Thy efforts would be vain, perhaps unsafe,

At least engend'ring danger by delay,

And Danger often marches close by Death.

HERE let thy love, thy conscience take th' alarm;

Love for thy Child, and terror at the guilt

Of dire infanticide. Perhaps the worst

Of ills impends; Convulsion lurks unseen;

Fever already riots in his veins;

Or suffocation threatens to destroy.

Trust not Thyself; trust not the babbling Hag;

Let Fondness all alive, and light'ning round,

Detect Her, as Ithuriel's spear the toad,

Couch'd at the ear of Eve, with poison fill'd.

YET shun despondence, cherish warmest hope,

Seize fleet occasion ere it passes by,

And call th' ingenious Leach, his happy skill

Shall to it's pristine health thy Babe restore,

If all-o'erruling Providence permit.

If not, to th' indefatigable Mind

Tho learning all it's mysteries hath reveal'd,

Tho judgment clear, and long experience join

Their potent aid, A WARREN will be foil'd,

A HEBERDEN, or BAKER, cannot save.

But Thou from every taint of guilt or blame

Art free; thy duty is perform'd; tho poor

That solace is, which counsels, Be resign'd,

Fetter the strong sensations, rapid-wing'd;

And glean content from rectitude of thought.

Who thus can lose the Darling of the eye?

The little lively Cherub, who e'en now

Begins his voice to modulate, and lisp

The half-form'd tale? Ah! wherefore was he given?

So soon resumed, and snatch'd from cheerful day?

That, Heaven best knows. Yet, if thou wilt, indulge

Thy just emotions, give them ample scope;

Recall each mimic gesture, every sound,

Each look, when pleased, or wayward in his mood,

He struck with inexpressive tenderness

The soul parental. With thy struggling heart

The Muse shall sympathise, shall add to thine

Congenial notes sincere. But time shall heal

The rankling wound, and soften by degrees,

Nay, quite o'ercome reflection's sharpest pangs;

Till Memory tracing to the fount of Grief

Views it at length unruffled, and beholds

Thro the calm lymph, Woe's once detested form,

Affectionately pensive, yet serene.

THE Human Soul with fortitude can bear,

Or with elastic energy expell,

Or slowly certain, vanquish every ill,

But dread remorse. The Self-accused descend

Low in the scale, and abject, or they pine

Afflicted, or amid the blaze of noon

Perceive no change in the dark midnight gloom

Which reigns within; Despair stands scouling by,

And sullen Madness crouches for his prey.

OH! may thy Mind, whatever doom'd to feel,

Whate'er of anguish, pain, or penury,

Wounds of ingratitude, or slighted love,

This worse than all, that famine, fire, or steel,

This horrid Fiend avoiding, never shrink

Beneath his weight, by conscious thought condemn'd.

Nor, may Evadne's melancholy fate

Be ever thine. What beauties could She boast!

How fair, in virgin innocence! Her charms

Pierced deep, for unaffected was the Maid,

And justest education had improved,

Not tortured Nature. Melody had chose

Her voice for it's loved vehicle of sound.

Tho mute, She spake, her eye had magic fire.

Her shape, her gesture, every action beam'd

Expressive elegance. Could the young heart

Of Polydore resist her wondrous power?

He strove not to resist, He heard, He saw,

And all his melting soul was Her's alone.

Nor did She view th' enamour'd Swain, or hear

Scornful the tender vows He breathed; for his

Was the smooth open front of candid truth,

The modest cheek, the soft persuasive glance

Of true affection, and the sigh sincere.

The lawns, the meads beheld them, and the groves

Of quivering alder, and the willows green

Skirting the mazy brook, nor e'er beheld

Happier and purer Mortals; nor e'er caught

Amid their shades, or on their mossy banks,

Notes more impassion'd from the Doric Muse,

Than Polydore to his Evadne sung.

THUS fixt immutably, thus rivetted

By strong attraction, not a Father's frown,

(For his imagination had pourtray'd

Evadne in the higher rank of pride,

Of wealth, and pageantry;) not five long years

Of absence could from either's heart erase

The other's image. Yet again They met,

Auspicious was the meeting; for the soul

Of Age severe, now moved, resolved to bless

The constant Youth, and to his arms resign

The beauteous Maid. He bless'd the constant Youth;

And to his arms the beauteous Maid resign'd.

Fair shone the morn of their espousals, fair

The coming morn, and promised to the eye

Of raptured love, a train of prosperous days.

OH Happiness! how exquisite!—how brief!

Affliction is the lot of Man below:

And often, Misery, when the soul of joy

Flushes with transport, breathes a sudden air

Of chilling frost, the genial warmth destroys,

And florid bloom. One eve Evadne sat

Alone, in swift succession to her view

Rose many a fairy prospect, but the light

Which gilded them was Polydore's, the sun

Was He, illuming, animating all

The forms of her creation. Even then

She felt his warm embrace, and press'd She thought

His glowing cheek to her's; for him prepared,

The table smiled; for him bright-beaming shone

The rosy wine; the foot-steps of his steed

She heard in every gale. But him, alas!

The living Polydore she never saw.

That Steed had proved unfaithful to his trust,

With mad'ning swiftness t'ward the gate He flew,

While far behind his breathless Master lay.

THE feelings of Evadne to describe

Weak is the Muse, and nerveless are her strains.

What can support her? Where exists the Power

Which can detain her from the grave that holds

Her Lord in death? What, but the Babe which smiles

Unconscious of his loss, as on her breast,

Her nurturing breast, He hangs? For him She lives.

For him sustains the load of grief, and strives

To tear the rooted anguish from her mind.

He is the charm which reconciles her thoughts

To the loath'd world? for Polydore in him

She sees, in the dear pledge of amity:

Stampt with his image, with his vital blood

Inform'd, and breathing sweet his balmy breath.

HATH not Misfortune spent her deadly shafts?

Ill-starr'd Evadne! In thy Child appear

The symptoms of disease, and onward hastes

Impetuous Fever. To a form like thine,

A temper blameless, with emotions pure,

Humane, and amiable, ah! why did Heaven

Refuse staid Judgment, firmness to resist

Error importunate, and strength to shun

Credulity, which hears the Dotard's tale,

And thinks it truth! Who taught thy Grandam hoar

The secrets of an art, to which the Mind

Of vigorous energy, and years of toil,

Are scarcely equal? By what Demon urged

Malicious, with what evil Spirit fill'd

Of self-conceit and folly, dares She hope

T' accomplish, what requires the searching eye

Of Genius and the labour'd skill of deep

And accurate attention? On thy Child

She looks, then proves her wisdom. First, the teeth

Are blamed, and charms are tried, and Nostrums given.

Next, Fits internal, and her poisonous drugs

She brews like Circe. Then the noxious Worm;

And Anthelmintics various She procures,

And oft repeats the drench. Each different cause

She e'er has heard suggested, is accused,

And every remedy She ever knew,

Administer'd; while still, the last, her voice

Solemnly slow, declares will banish pain,

And with miraculous and sudden force

Restore the suffering Babe; who lies meantime

Opprest with double woe, by his disease,

And that pernicious treatment, which from plain

And simple, has converted it at length

To mortal violence. Now, Nature yields

Reluctantly o'ercome. Evadne sees

The Victim of presumptuous Ignorance;

Conviction flashes on her mind; She calls

For aid, too late. He dies; and with him dies

Her Polydore again. She raves, She tears

Her flowing locks. Yet, passionate excess

May waste itself, and Peace once more return.

It might return, as when She felt the pangs

Of absent love, as when her heart was torn,

Losing it's dearer portion. But the sting

Of sharp reflection, by Herself impell'd,

What hand shall e'er extract? Her delicate,

And feeling mind, imagination-struck,

Shrinks from existence; while by day, by night,

These sounds pervade her ear, "Thy Child is slain,

And Thou wert an Accomplice." Horrid sounds!

Inviting on his cloud, the dreary Shape

Of melancholy Madness. Oh! what notes,

What different notes, utters Evadne now,

Enfrenzied, and forlorn, from those which erst

Amid their shades, or on their mossy banks,

The groves responsive heard, the joyous groves

Of quivering alder, and the willows green

Skirting the mazy brook, those Doric notes,

Which Polydore to his Evadne sung.

TURN We from scenes like these, which o'er the soul

Of weeping Sympathy diffuse a gloom,

Yet, not unchasten'd by the milder ray

Of self-acquitting thought, and firm intent

To shun the latent rocks of deep distress,

By pious caution guided; from our theme

Not thus abstracted, it's preceptive notes

Yet unrelinquishing, and sorrows mists

Dispell'd, which o'er the breast of Innocence

Flit like a cloud across the summer sky;

To happier mansions, objects of delight,

And joyful prospects, turn! to where thy Child

Hath, by Inoculation, overcome

The Plague Variolous! As Hercules

The spotted Snakes defeating, transport flush'd

Alcmena's glowing cheek, so over thine

I see the kindled radiance. Whether born

In Ethiopic wilds, or mid the sands

Of parch'd Arabia, or where spread the shores

Girding the Caspian; from his natal place,

Pursuing Mahomet's wide-wasting arms,

The Monster rush'd on Europe, pale dismay,

Horror, and Death rapacious in his train.

For many a Century, without controul,

When ragid his fury, by pernicious skies

Aroused, or propagated far and wide

By fell Contagion, He destroy'd Mankind.

The Cities groan'd; The Matron o'er her Babe

In unavailing trance of anguish hung.

The Lover offer'd up his fruitless vows,

And wearied Heaven importunately fond,

To save the Beauty which his soul adored.

The Babe, the Mother's self, became his prey;

The Youth, and Virgin, sunk into the tomb.

If life were granted, beauty was effaced;

Each decent feature, tumid, and enlarged,

Roughen'd, or dented with unseemly scars.

MEDICINE was whelm'd with shame; the Roman page

Was silent, nor the Grecian could afford

An antidote for evils Grecia's Sons

Had ne'er imagined. Rhazes wrote in vain;

And even Sydenham's efforts had their bounds.

For the cold lymph by Prejudice was shunn'd;

And Sydenham, tho He oft by freer air

Tamed the devouring heat, and shook the throne

Of learned Ignorance, declaring war

Against it's regimen, adverse to life,

And compounds teeming with destructive fire,

Alexipharmic poisons; could not change

The rank malignant nature of the Pest:

Which still, when favouring constitutions reign'd

And in peculiar Habits, all his art

Baffled, invincible; his art, beyond

All Mortals else, and only not divine.

THE triumph was reserved for Female hands;

Thine was the deed, accomplish'd MONTAGUE!

What Physic ne'er conjectured, What described

By Pylarini, by Timoni sketch'd,

Seem'd to Philosophy an idle tale,

Or curious only; She by patriot love

Inspired, and England rising to her view

Proved as a truth, and proved it on her Son.

A manly Mind where reason dwelt supreme

Was Her's the little terrors of her sex

Despising, by maternal fondness sway'd,

Yet bold, where confidence had stable grounds.

How far superior to the turbann'd Race

With whom She sojourn'd, scrupulous, and weak!

YET, this is She, whom Pope's illiberal verse

Hath dared to censure with malicious spleen,

And meanly-coward soul. Redoubled Bard!

What hath thy satire, tho it often flow

Happy, and poignant, with Horatian ease,

What hath thy moral lay, tho pure, and just,

And elegant, of profit e'er produced,

Of high advantage to thy natal Land,

Compared with her bequest? Thy numbers charm

The listening ear, and with thy polisht stile

Taste is enamour'd; She hath been the cause

Of heart-felt joy to thousands, thousands live,

And still shall live thro her; thy song can please

None but the Sons of Britain; or the Few,

Of nice, and studious leisure; She unlock'd

The springs of satisfaction and delight,

And with perennial comfort bless'd the World.

LET Me then urge this duty; nor to fear

Or superstition yielding, let thy Child

Encounter in his native shape the Fiend,

And brave his violence. For, whither, say,

To what sequester'd haunt canst Thou retreat,

Where He will not pursue? How vain thy flight!

How sure thy victory, if as Art direct

And wise Experience, thou anticipate

His threaten'd blow! So when the Patriarch's arm

Was stretch'd to wound his Son, An Angel came,

And saved the victim from impending death.

GENTLE; and almost harmless is the bane

By Skill communicated, which regards

The times and seasons, nor infects the Child,

If to Dentition's wonted state arrived;

For, ill the labouring frame can then endure

An added stimulus. Nor yet before

That period; lest to Epilepsy prone

By the contagious vapour raised, He quit

Sudden the precincts warm of light and life.

This too the cold of winter bids Us shun,

Potent the vessels to contract, increase

Their tonic force, and in the system stir

Fierce inflammation. And the summer heat;

By which all putrid ferments are sublimed,

And render'd doubly fatal. These extremes

Avoided, in the temperate months alone

Let every prudent Matron be resolved

T' obey the call of duty, and of love.

Unless the dread contagion, thickening round,

Impell them to neglect each guarded rule,

Yielding by force to peril's just alarm.

NEED We, in this our Aera, when mature,

And vigorous, reason prospers, groundless fears

Oppose by arguments? the groundless fears

Of fondness, or religion? In thy mind

No terror should, or can with justice dwell,

But lest, as naturally seen, by Art

Unmodified, uncheck'd, the stern Disease

Should thy young Charge assault. If He escape,

His lot is fortunate. Assaulted thus,

Oft, from an Hundred only, many die.

From many Hundreds, None, or one perchance,

Of those inoculated. Why should thine

Be the poor solitary One? If death

Follow a treatment, which can soothe the Pest,

And meliorate it's nature, could his life

Be granted to thy fervent prayer, when arm'd,

And with it's proper rage it took the field?

This be thy source of comfort. Nor believe

That Providence is tempted by the deed.

From Providence flows reason to Mankind;

And Reason teaches Us to fly from ill,

And covet good. Th' invention, the success,

Is the true warrant of approving Heaven.

Who would not rather cross a shallow frith,

When first the rising tide begins, than wait

Hemm'd in a nook, till with impetuous force

It sweep Him from his station? Who refuse

By Franklin's pointed rod, to draw the stream

Of lightning on their roofs, because the cloud

Might harmless pass above? thus safe convey'd,

In unterrific silence, to the ground.

THO rare th' Examples now, and scatter'd, mark

Th' unhappy Beings, who from idle dread,

Or weak maternal love, in Childhood's state

This boon received not; and who sharing yet

Th' hereditary feelings, want themselves

Firmness of soul th' omission to supply.

Mark, where they pine in solitude, oppresst

By anxious thought; to whom Man's cheerful Race

Affords no joy; the voice of Music breathes

It's choral notes unheard; the stage displays

The living manners, and th' assembly beams

With sprightliness and elegance, in vain.

The City, nay the Village bounds they fly,

And shift from place to place, as from the pack

Of clamorous Hounds and Men, in wild affright

The trembling Hare. Oh! never may thy Sons,

Thy Daughters, thus be cursed! in early life

By thee from all these future horrors freed!

The mirthful croud, with innocence of heart

Joining well-pleased; the gay, the social hour

Nor shunning, nor desiring, but awhile

To soften care; or fit the soul for acts,

By relaxation due, of nobler kind.

Endow'd by Thee with comeliness, no trace

Of this abhorr'd Distemper left behind,

And all it's wonted ravages defied.

FOR MONTAGUE again the verse prepare,

And bring th' harmonious strain! Why thro the realms

Of Europe are not votive Statues placed

Honouring their Benefactress? From the straits

Of Gades, south, to where the towers ascend

Of famed Petropolis? Or, crossing wide

Th' Atlantic foam, why in the new-found World,

Which more to Her, than it's Discoverer, owes,

Appears no structure sacred to her praise?

Yet, shall Imagination rear the dome,

And fix th' expressive marble. Hither come,

Ye Nymphs, and Swains, with flowery garlands deck'd

Your polisht foreheads; on the shaven green

Which fronts the Temple, ply your nimble feet,

The jocund dance inweaving! Hither come,

Ye Fauns and Dryads! Hither, glowing Love,

And spotless Beauty! Youth, with radiant eye,

And blooming Health! While underneath the beech

Or oak, which waves it's consecrated shade,

Humanity, and Wisdom, smiling view

The festive Throng, mid whom the Graces play.

And quitting their proud bowers, and lofty hill,

The Muses utter notes divinely sweet,

Such as of yore They sung, when Gratitude

Tuned to the Friends and Patrons of mankind

The genuine lyre, ennobled by it's theme.

Information about this book

Title statement

Infancy, or the management of children: a didactic poem, in six books. The fifth edition. By Hugh Downman, M.D.

Infancy.

Downman, Hugh, 1740-1809.

Publication

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University of Oxford Text Archive
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ID [ota]

http://ota.ox.ac.uk/id/4764

ID [isbn10]

1106017633

ID [isbn13]

9781106017635

ID [TCP]

K074632.000

ID [BIBNO]

CW3313303931

ID [ECLL]

0577301400

Availability

Distributed by the University of Oxford under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License

Source

— Infancy, or the management of children: a didactic poem, in six books. The fifth edition. By Hugh Downman, M.D., Infancy., Downman, Hugh, 1740-1809.. [2],199,[1]p. ; 8⁰. Edinburgh :: printed for J. Bell and J. Bradfute; G. G. J. & J. Robinson; G. & T. Wilkie, and G. Kearsley, London,. 1790.. [Reproduction of original from the British Library.] [English Short Title Catalog, ESTCT92239.] [Electronic data. Farmington Hills, Mich. : Thomson Gale, 2003. Page image (PNG). Digitized image of the microfilm version produced in Woodbridge, CT by Research Publications, 1982-2002 (later known as Primary Source Microfilm, an imprint of the Gale Group).]

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