Classic Poem

CANTO FIRST .

Whether some great, supreme o'er-ruling Power,
Stretch'd forth its arm at Nature's natal hour,
Composed this mighty whole with plastic skill,
Wielding the jarring elements at will?
Or, whether sprung from Chaos' mingling storm,
The mass of matter started into form?
Or Chance o'er earth's green lap spontaneous fling
The fruits of autumn and the flowers of spring?
Whether material substance, unrefined,
Owns the strong impulse of instinctive mind,
Which to one centre points diverging lines,
Confounds, refracts, invig'rates, and combines?
Whether the joys of earth, the hopes of heaven,
By Man to God, or God to Man, were given?
If virtue leads to bliss, or vice to woe?
Who rules above? or who reside below?
Vain questions all — shall Man presume to know?
On all these points, and points obscure as these,
Think they who will, — and think whate'er they please!

Let us a plainer, steadier theme pursue —
Mark the grim savage scoop his light canoe;
Mark the dark rook, on pendant branches hung,
With anxious fondness feed her cawing young. —
Mark the fell leopard, through the desert prowl,
Fish prey on fish, and fowl regale on fowl; —
How Lybian tigers chawdrons love assails,
And warms, midst seas of ice, the melting whales: —
Cools the crimpt cod, fierce pangs to perch imparts,
Shrinks shrivell'd shrimps, but opens oysters' hearts: —
Then say, how all these things together tend
To one great truth, prime object, and good end?

First — to each living thing, whate'er its kind,
Some lot, some part, some station is assign'd.
The feather'd race, with pinions skim the air —
Not so the mackarel, and still less the bear:
This , roams the wood , carniv'rous, for his prey;
That , with soft roe, pursues his watery way:
This , slain by hunters, yields his shaggy hide;
That , caught by fishers, is on Sundays cried. —

But each contented with his humble sphere,
Moves unambitious through the circling year;
Nor e'er forgets the fortune of his race,
Nor pines to quit, or strives to change his place.
Ah! who has seen the mailed lobster rise,
Clap her broad wings, and soaring claim the skies?
When did the owl, descending from her bower,
Crop, midst the fleecy flocks, the tender flower;
Or the young heifer plunge, with pliant limb,
In the salt wave, and fish-like strive to swim?

The same with plants — potatoes tatoes breed —
Uncostly cabbage springs from cabbage seed;
Lettuce to lettuce, leeks to leeks succeed;
Nor e'er did cooling cucumbers presume
To flower like myrtle, or like violets bloom.
— Man only, — rash, refined, presumptuous Man,
Starts from his rank, and mars Creation's plan!
Born the free heir of nature's wide domain,
To art's strict limits bounds his narrow'd reign;
Resigns his native rights for meaner things,
For Faith and Fetters — Laws, and Priests, and Kings.

Lo! the rude savage; free from civil strife,
Keeps the smooth tenour of his guiltless life;
Restrain'd by none, save Nature's lenient laws,
Quaffs the clear stream, and feeds on hips and haws.
Light to his daily sports behold him rise;
The bloodless banquet health and strength supplies.
Bloodless not long — one morn he haps to stray
Through the lone wood — and close beside the way
Sees the gaunt tiger tear his trembling prey;
Beneath whose gory fangs a leveret bleeds,
Or pig — such pig as fertile China breeds.

Struck with the sight, the wond'ring Savage stands,
Rolls his broad eyes, and clasps his lifted hands;
Then restless roams — and loaths his wonted food;
Shuns the salubrious stream, and thirsts for blood.

By thought matured, and quickened by desire,
New arts, new arms, his wayward wants require.
From the tough yew a slender branch he tears,
With self-taught skill the twisted grass prepares;
The unfashion'd bow with labouring efforts bends
In circling form, and joins the unwilling ends.
Next some tall reed he seeks — with sharp-edged stone
Shapes the fell dart, and points with whiten'd bone.

Then forth he fares. Around in careless play,
Kids, pigs, and lambkins, unsuspecting, stray.
With grim delight he views the sportive band,
Intent on blood, and lifts his murderous hand:
Twangs the bent bow — resounds the fateful dart,
Swift-wing'd, and trembles in a porker's heart.

Ah! hapless porker! what can now avail
Thy back's stiff bristles, or thy curly tail?
Ah! what avail those eyes so small and round,
Long pendent ears, and snout that loves the ground?

Not unrevenged thou diest! — In after times
From thy spilt blood shall spring unnumber'd crimes.
Soon shall the slaught'rous arms that wrought thy woe,
Improved by malice, deal a deadlier blow;
When social Man shall pant for nobler game,
And 'gainst his fellow man the vengeful weapon aim.

As love, as gold, as jealousy inspires,
As wrathful hate, or wild ambition fires,
Urged by the statesman's craft, the tyrant's rage,
Embattled nations endless wars shall wage,
Vast seas of blood the ravaged field shall stain,
And millions perish — that a King may reign!

For blood once shed, new wants and wishes rise;
Each rising want invention quick supplies.
To roast his victuals is Man's next desire,
So two dry sticks he rubs, and lights a fire.
Hail fire! &c. &c.