So young, and with such little sense Of what is call'd--experience; And whom the world had not yet taught, As it might do, to set at nought What conscience tells us we should shun, What we should do or leave undone; Or, with a certain self-deceit, The virtues of the heart to cheat, He certainly appears to be Envelop'd in perplexity, And verging on a dang'rous scrape From which he might not make escape Without a loss which he would rue Of the fair prospects in his view; And thus be on a sudden hurl'd Faithless and friendless on the world.
As in his plan this hasty change Was, it may seem, so very strange, It therefore may be well to know From whence such awkward motives flow, For awkward motives they must be Which trench upon integrity. It was not Molly's sparkling eyes Which sought his virtue to surprise; For though he might her heart beguile To yield his wish a fav'ring smile, She ne'er allow'd of a pretence Beyond the claim of Innocence.
There is a proverb so well known It would be ign'rance not to own The having heard and felt its truth E'en in the days of early youth, That, if we chance with those to live Whose lives a bad example give, They will convey, as we shall find, A foul contagion to the mind. Thus for a time _Ezekiel_ stood Firm as the tree that crowns the wood, But, after mocking ev'ry blast, Will sometimes bend and fall at last. Though whether he began to shake, Or only suffer'd twigs to break, But still retain'd his fibres bound, } In firm defiance to the ground, } While the main trunk, tho' shook, was sound, } Is what the curious mind shall know, And no far distant page will show. Thus the humble verse will trace His future honour or disgrace; As intermingled they must be With scenes of household history.
When good _Sir Jeff'ry's_ gout was kind And to his bed he was confin'd; No dainty dinner to be got, And nought but messes in the pot, The kitchen folk, then quite at leisure, Would think of more than common pleasure; Then butlers of the higher station, And valets to gay men of fashion, Invited were, to join the ball Now given in the servants' hall, With ladies' maids who titles bore Of mistresses--whose gowns they wore; And sometimes a smart tradesman, too, Would pop in to say--_how do ye do_. --Here all home secrets were betray'd-- } The various tricks which servants play'd, } And how their fortunes could be made. } When one grave man his silence broke, And thus to our _Ezekiel_ spoke:-- "Had I," says he, "so fine a place, As your superior manners grace; Had I a rich man in my keeping, Who passes half his time in sleeping; Whose purse is always in your view, And lets you pay his tradesmen too; While, that he may enjoy his ease, He makes you guardian of his keys, My growing fortune soon should flow, And in a way he ne'er should know. If by his bed you are his nurse, And have the jingling of his purse; If, when the doctor comes to see him, And you are calmly told to fee him, You must be nam'd the veriest elf If, then, you do not fee yourself: Nay, when his fingers, cramp'd with gout, Cannot well take a _sovereign_ out, And he should bid you take out four, Contrive to grapple five or more. 'Tis when he's sick with aches and ails, When pain torments and mem'ry fails, When the night's pass'd his bed beside, Then Fortune tells you to provide For future wants,--and bless the hour That gives the means into your power: Nor ever fail, on some pretence, To rail against the rash expense Which doctors and their varlets bring To patients, sick and suffering, Till you can get him to exclaim-- 'Expense is a mere idle name; Of cost let your complainings cease, I care not so it gives me ease:' Then offer up your thanks to Heaven That to his fortune it is given To be thus blest with ample wealth, At any cost to purchase health. This is your harvest; I shall tell Another story when he's well: That time's but short,--though let him see That then you're all economy. When he can settle an account, And look into the just amount, Then, then let ev'ry thing appear Just as it ought--correct and clear. Thus let your speculations rove When well below, when sick above, And all I'm worth I now would stake You will, in time, a fortune make. Rich as he is, and careless too, With such a confidence in you, _Sir Jeffery_ will never feel Your happy turn in fortune's wheel."