GOTHAM. BOOK I.

GOTHAM . BOOK I. FAR off ( no matter whether East or West , A real Country , or one made in jest ) Not yet by modern MANDEVILLES disgrac'd , Nor by Map-jobbers wretchedly misplac'd , There lies an Island , neither great nor small , Which , for distinction sake , I GOTHAM call . The Man , who finds an unknown Country out , By giving it a name acquires , no doubt , A Gospel title , tho' the people there The pious Christian thinks not worth his care . Bar this pretence , and into air is hurl'd The claim of EUROPE to the Western World . Cast by a tempest on the savage coast , Some roving Buccaneer set up a Post ; A Beam , in proper form transversely laid , Of his Redeemer's Cross the figure made , Of that Redeemer , with whose laws his life , From first to last , had been one scene of strife ; His royal master's name thereon engrav'd , Without more process , the whole race enslav'd , Cut off that Charter they from Nature drew , And made them Slaves to men they never knew . Search antient histories , consult records , Under this title the most Christian Lords Hold ( thanks to Conscience ) more than half the Ball ; O'erthrow this title , they have none at all . For never yet might any Monarch dare , Who liv'd to Truth , and breath'd a Christian air , Pretend that Christ ( who came , we all agree , To bless his people , and to set them free ) To make a Convert ever one law gave , By which Converters made him first a slave . Spite of the glosses of a canting Priest , Who talks of Charity , but means a feast , Who recommends it ( whilst he seems to feel The holy glowings of a real zeal ) To all his hearers , as a deed of worth , To give them heav'n , whom they have robb'd of earth , Never shall One , One truly honest man , Who , blest with LIBERTY , reveres her plan , Allow one moment , that a Savage sire Could from his wretched race , for childish hire , By a wild grant , their All , their Freedom pass , And sell his Country for a bit of glass . Or grant this barb'rous right , Let SPAIN and FRANCE , In Slav'ry bred , as purchasers advance , Let them , whilst Conscience is at distance hurl'd , With some gay bawble buy a golden world ; An ENGLISHMAN , in charter'd FREEDOM born , Shall spurn the slavish merchandize , shall scorn To take from others , thro' base private views , What He himself would rather die , than lose . Happy the Savage of those early times 'Ere EUROPE's sons were known , and EUROPE's crimes ! Gold , cursed Gold ! slept in the womb of earth , Unfelt its mischiefs , as unknown its worth ; In full Content he found the truest wealth ; In Toil he found Diversion , Food , and Health ; Strange to the ease and luxury of Courts , His Sports were Labours , and his Labours Sports ; His Youth was hardy , and his Old Age green ; Life's Morn was vig'rous , and her Eve serene ; No rules he held , but what were made for use ; No Arts he learn'd , nor ills which Arts produce ; False Lights he follow'd , but believ'd them true ; He knew not much , but liv'd to what he knew . Happy , thrice happy now the Savage race , Since EUROPE took their Gold , and gave them Grace ! Pastors she sends to help them in their need , Some who can't write , with others who can't read , And , on sure grounds the Gospel Pile to rear , Sends Missionary Felons ev'ry Year ; Our Vices , with more Zeal than holy pray'rs , She teaches them , and in return takes theirs ; Her rank Oppressions give them cause to rise , Her Want of Prudence means , and Arms supplies , Whilst her brave rage , not satisfied with life , Rising in blood , adopts the Scalping-Knife ; Knowledge She gives , enough to make them know How abject is their State , how deep their Woe ; The Worth of Freedom strongly She explains , Whilst She bows down , and loads their necks with Chains ; Faith too She plants , for her own ends imprest , To make them bear the worst , and hope the best ; And whilst She teaches on vile int'rest's plan , As Laws of God , the wild decrees of man , Like PHARISERS , of whom the Scriptures tell , She makes them ten times more the Sons of Hell . But whither do these grave reflexions tend ? Are they design'd for any , or no end ? Briefly but this — to prove , that by no act Which Nature made , that by no equal pact 'Twixt Man and Man , which might , if Justice heard , Stand good , that by no benefits conferr'd , Or purchase made , EUROPE in chains can hold The Sons of INDIA , and her mines of gold . Chance led her there in an accursed hour , She saw , and made the Country her's by pow'r ; Nor , drawn by Virtue's Love from Love of Fame , Shall my rash Folly controvert the claim , Or wish in thought that title overthrown , Which coincides with , and involves my own . EUROPE discover'd INDIA first ; I found My right to Gotham on the self-same ground ; I first discover'd it , nor shall that plea To Her be granted , and denied to Me . I plead Possession , and till one more bold Shall drive me out , will that Possession hold . With EUROPE's rights my kindred rights I twine ; Hers be the WESTERN WORLD , be GOTHAM Mine . Rejoice , Ye happy GOTHAMITES , rejoice ; Lift up your voice on high , a mighty voice , The voice of Gladness , and on ev'ry tongue , In Strains of gratitude , be praises hung , The praises of so great and good a King ; Shall CHURCHILL reign , and shall not GOTHAM sing ? As on a Day , a high and holy Day , Let ev'ry instrument of Music play , Antient and Modern ; Those which drew their birth ( Punctilios laid wide ) from Pagan earth , As well as those by Christian made and Jew ; Those known to many , and those known to few ; Those which in whim and frolic lightly float , And those which swell the slow and solemn note ; Those which ( whilst Reason stands in wonder by ) Make some complexions laugh , and others cry ; Those which , by some strange faculty of sound , Can build walls up , and raze them to the ground ; Those which can tear up forests by the roots , And make brutes dance like Men , and Men like brutes ; Those which , whilst RIDICULE leads up the dance , Make Clowns of MONMOUTH ape the Fops of FRANCE ; Those which , where Lady DULLNESS with Lord MAYORS Prefides , disdaining light and trifling airs , Hallow the feast with Psalmody , and Those Which , planted in our Churches to dispose And lift the mind to Heaven , are disgrac'd With what a foppish Organist calls Taste . All , from the Fiddle ( on which ev'ry Fool , The pert Son of dull Sire , discharg'd from School , Serves an apprenticeship in College ease , And rises thro' the Ganiut to degrees ) To Those which ( tho' less common , not less sweet ) From fam'd Saint Giles's , and more fam'd Vine-street , ( Where Heav'n , the utmost wish of man to grant , Gave me an old House , and an older Aunt ) THORNTON , whilst HUMOUR pointed out the road To her arch cub , hath hitch'd into an ode ; All Instruments ( attend Ye list'ning Spheres , Attend Ye Sons of Men , and hear with ears ) All Instruments ( nor shall they seek one Hand Imprest from modern MUSIC's coxcomb band ) All Instruments , self-acted , at my name Shall pour forth harmony , and loud proclaim , Loud but yet sweet , to the according globe , My praises , whilst gay NATURE , in a robe , A Coxcomb Doctor's robe , to the full sound Keeps time , like BOYCE , and the World dances round . Rejoice , Ye happy GOTHAMITES , rejoice ! Lift up your voice on high , a mighty voice , The voice of gladness , and on ev'ry tongue , In strains of gratitude , be praises hung , The Praises of so great and good a King ; Shall CHURCHILL reign , and shall not GOTHAM sing ? INFANCY , straining backward from the breast , Tetchy and wayward , what he loveth best Refusing in his fits , whilst all the while The Mother eyes the wrangler with a smile , And the fond Father sits on t'other side , Laughs at his moods , and views his spleen with pride , Shall murmur forth my name , whilst at his hand Nurse stands interpreter , thro' GOTHAM's land . CHILDHOOD who , like an April morn , appears , Sunshine and Rain , Hopes clouded o'er with fears , Pleas'd and displeas'd by starts , in passion warm , In Reason weak , who , wrought into a storm , Like to the fretful bullies of the deep , Soon spends his rage , and cries himself asleep , Who , with a fev'rish appetite oppress'd , For trifles sighs , but hates them when possess'd , His trembling lash suspended in the air , Half-bent , and stroking back his long , lank hair , Shall to his mates look up with eager glee , And let his Top go down to prate of Me . YOUTH , who fierce , fickle , insolent , and vain , Impatient urges on to MANHOOD's reign , Impatient urges on , yet , with a cast Of dear regard , looks back on CHILDHOOD past , In the mid-chase , when the hot blood runs high , And the quick spirits mount into his eye , When Pleasure , which he deems his greatest wealth , Beats in his heart , and paints his cheeks with health , When the chaf'd Steed tugs proudly at the rein , And , 'ere he starts , hath run o'er half the plain , When , wing'd with fear , the Stag flies full in view , And in full cry the eager hounds pursue , Shall shout my praise to hills which shout again , And e'en the Huntsman stop to cry Amen . MANHOOD , of form erect , who would not bow Tho' Worlds should crack around him ; on his brow WISDOM serene , to Passion giving law , Bespeaking Love , and yet commanding Awe ; DIGNITY into Grace by Mildness wrought ; COURAGE attemper'd and refin'd by Thought ; VIRTUE supreme enthron'd ; within his breast The Image of his Maker deep impress'd ; Lord of this Earth , which trembles at his Nod , With Reason bless'd , and only less than God ; MANHOOD , tho' weeping Beauty kneels for aid , Tho' Honour calls in Danger's form array'd , Tho' , cloath'd with sackcloth , Justice in the gates , By wicked Elders chain'd , Redemption waits , MANHOOD shall steal an hour , a little hour , ( Is't not a little One ? ) to hail my pow'r . OLD-AGE , a second Child , by Nature curs'd With more and greater evils than the first , Weak , sickly , full of pains ; in ev'ry breath Railing at life , and yet afraid of death ; Putting things off , with sage and solemn air , From day to day , without one day to spare ; Without enjoyment , covetous of pelf , Tiresome to friends , and tiresome to himself , His faculties impair'd , his temper sour'd , His memory of recent things devour'd E'en with the acting , on his shatter'd brain Tho' the stale Registers of Youth remain ; From morn to evening babbling forth vain praise Of those rare men , who liv'd in those rare days When He , the Hero of his tale , was Young , Dull Repetitions falt'ring on his tongue , Praising gray hairs , sure mark of Wisdom's sway , E'en whilst he curses time which made him gray , Scoffing at Youth , e'en whilst he would afford All , but his gold , to have his Youth restor'd , Shall for a moment , from himself set free , Lean on his Crutch , and pipe forth praise to Me . Rejoice , Ye happy GOTHAMITES , rejoice ; Lift up your voice on high , a mighty voice , The voice of gladness , and on ev'ry tongue , In strains of gratitude , be praises hung , The praises of so great and good a King ; Shall CHURCHILL reign , and shall not GOTHAM sing ? Things without life shall in this Chorus join , And , dumb to others 'praise , be loud in mine . The Snow-drop , who , in habit white and plain , Comes on the Herald of fair FLORA's train ; The Coxcomb Crocus , flow'r of simple note , Who by her side struts in a Herald's coat ; The Tulip , idly glaring to the view , Who , tho' no Clown , his birth from Holland drew , Who , once full-dress'd , fears from his place to stir , The Fop of flow'rs , the MORE of a Parterre ; The Wood-bine , who her Elm in marriage meets , And brings her dowry in surrounding sweets ; The Lilly , silver Mistress of the vale , The Rose of SHARON which perfumes the gale ; The Jessamine , with which the Queen of flow'rs To charm her God adorns his fav'rite bow'rs , Which Brides , by the plain hand of neatness drest , Unenvied rival , wear upon their breast , Sweet as the incense of the Morn , and chaste As the pure Zone , which circles DIAN's waist ; All flow'rs , of various names , and various forms , Which the Sun into strength and beauty warms , From the dwarf Daisy , which , like infants , clings , And fears to leave the earth from whence it springs , To the proud Giant of the garden race , Who , madly rushing to the Sun's embrace , O'ertops her fellows with aspiring aim , Demands his wedded Love , and bears his name ; All , One and All , shall in this Chorus join , And , dumb to others 'praise , be loud in mine . Rejoice , Ye happy GOTHAMITES , rejoice ; Lift up your voice on high , a mighty voice , The voice of gladness , and on ev'ry tongue , In strains of gratitude , be praises hung , The praises of so great and good a King ; Shall CHURCHILL reign , and shall not GOTHAM sing ? Forming a gloom , thro' which to spleen-struck minds Religion , horror-stamp'd , a passage finds , The Ivy crawling o'er the hallow'd cell , Where some old Hermit's wont his beads to tell By day , by night ; the Myrtle ever-green , Beneath whose shade Love holds his rites unseen ; The Willow weeping o'er the fatal wave , Where many a Lover finds a watry grave ; The Cypress sacred held , when Lovers mourn Their true Love snatch'd away ; the Laurel worn By Poets in old time , but destin'd now In grief to wither on a WHITEHEAD's brow ; The Fig , which , large as what in India grows , Itself a Grove , gave our first Parents cloaths ; The Vine , which , like a blushing new-made Bride , Clust'ring , empurples all the Mountain's side ; The Yew , which , in the place of sculptur'd stone , Marks out the resting-place of men unknown ; The hedge-row Elm , the Pine of mountain race ; The Fir , the SCOTCH Fir , never out of place ; The Cedar , whose top mates the highest cloud , Whilst his old Father LEBANON grows proud Of such a child , and his vast Body laid Out many a mile , enjoys the filial shade ; The Oak , when living , monarch of the wood ; The ENGLISH Oak , which , dead , commands the flood ; All , One and All , shall in this Chorus join , And , dumb to others 'praise , be loud in mine . Rejoice , Ye happy GOTHAMITES , rejoice ; Lift up your voice on high , a mighty voice , The voice of gladness , and on ev'ry tongue , In strains of gratitude , be praises hung , The praises of so great and good a King ; Shall CHURCHILL reign , and shall not GOTHAM sing . The Show'rs , which make the young hills , like young Lambs , Bound and rebound , the old Hills , like old Rams , Unwieldy , jump for joy ; the Streams , which glide , Whilst PLENTY marches smiling by their side , And from their bosom rising COMMERCE springs ; The Winds , which rise with healing on their wings , Before whose cleansing breath Contagion flies ; The Sun who , travelling in Eastern skies , Fresh , full of strength , just risen from his bed , Tho' in JOVE's pastures they were born and bred , With voice and whip , can scarce make his steeds stir , Step by Step , up the perpendicular ; Who , at the hour of Eve , panting for rest , Rolls on amain , and gallops down the West , As fast as JEHU , oil'd for AHAB's sin , Drove for a crown , or Post-boys for an Inn ; The Moon , who holds o'er night her silver reign , Regent of tides , and Mistress of the Brain , Who to her Sons , those Sons who own her pow'r , And do her homage at the midnight hour , Gives madness as a blessing , but dispenses Wisdom to fools , and damns them with their Senses ; The Stars who , by I know not what strange right , Preside o'er mortals in their own despite , Who without Reason govern Those , who most ( How truly judge from hence ! ) of Reason boast , And , by some mighty Magic yet unknown , Our actions guide , yet cannot guide their own ; All , One and All , shall in this Chorus join , And , dumb to others 'praise , be loud in Mine . Rejoice , Ye happy GOTHAMITES , rejoice ; Lift up your voice on high , a mighty voice , The voice of gladness , and on ev'ry tongue In strains of gratitude , be praises hung , The praises of so great and good a King ; Shall CHURCHILL reign , and shall not GOTHAM sing ? The Moment , Minute , Hour , Day , Week , Month , Year , Morning and Eve , as they in turn appear ; Moments and Minutes which , without a crime , Can't be omitted in accounts of time , Or , if omitted , ( proof we might afford ) Worthy by Parliaments to be restor'd ; The Hours which , drest by turns in black and white , Ordain'd as Handmaids , wait on Day and Night ; The Day , those hours I mean , when Light presides , And BUSINESS in a cart with PRUDENCE rides ; The Night , those hours I mean with darkness hung , When Sense speaks free , and Folly holds her tongue ; The Morn , when Nature , rousing from her strife With death-like sleep , awakes to second life ; The Eve , when , as unequal to the task , She mercy from her foe descends to ask ; The Week , in which Six days are kindly given To think of Earth , and One to think of Heaven ; The Months , twelve Sisters , all of diff'rent hue , Tho' there appears in all a likeness too , Not such a likeness , as , thro' HAYMAN's works , Dull Mannerist , in Christians , Jews , and Turks , Cloys with a sameness in each female face , But a strange Something , born of Art and Grace , Which speaks them All , to vary and adorn , At diff'rent times of the same Parents born ; All , One and All , shall in this Chorus join , And , dumb to others 'praise , be loud in Mine . Rejoice , Ye happy GOTHAMITES , rejoice ; Lift up your voice on high , a mighty voice , The voice of gladness , and on ev'ry tongue , In strains of gratitude , be praises hung , The praises of so great and good a King ; Shall CHURCHILL reign , and shall not GOTHAM sing ? Frore JANUARY , Leader of the year , Minc'd-pies in van , and Calves-heads in the rear ; Dull February , in whose leaden reign , My Mother bore a bard without a brain ; MARCH various , fierce , and wild , with wind-crack'd cheeks , By wilder Welchmen led , and crown'd with leeks ! APRIL with fools , and MAY with bastards blest ; JUNE with White Roses on her rebel breast ; JULY , to whom , the Dog-Star in her train , Saint JAMES gives oysters , and Saint SWITHIN rain ; AUGUST , who , banish'd from her Smithfield stand , To Chelsea flies , with DOGGET in her hand ; SEPTEMBER , when by Custom ( right divine ) Geese are ordain'd to bleed at MICHAEL's shrine , Whilst the Priest , not so full of grace as wit , Falls to , unbless'd , nor gives the Saint a bit ; OCTOBER , who the cause of FREEDOM join'd , And gave a second GEORGE to bless mankind ; NOVEMBER , who at once to grace our earth , Saint ANDREW boasts , and our AUGUSTA's birth ; DECEMBER , last of Months , but best , who gave A CHRIST to Man , a Saviour to the Slave , Whilst , falsely grateful , Man , at the full feast , To do God honour , makes himself a beast ; All , One and All , shall in this Chorus join , And dumb to others 'praise , be loud in Mine . Rejoice , Ye happy GOTHAMITES , rejoice ; Lift up your voice on high , a mighty voice , The voice of gladness , and on ev'ry tongue In strains of gratitude , be praises hung , The praises of so great and good a King ; Shall CHURCHILL reign , and shall not GOTHAM sing ? The Seasons as they roll ; SPRING , by her side Letch'ry and Lent , Lay-Folly , and Church-Pride , By a rank Monk to Copulation led , A tub of sainted Salt-Fish on her head ; SUMMER , in light , transparent Gawze array'd , Like Maids of Honour at a Masquerade , In bawdry Gawze , for which our daughters leave The Fig , more modest , first brought up by EVE , Panting for breath , enflam'd with lustful fires , Yet wanting strength to perfect her desires , Leaning on SLOTH , who , fainting with the heat , Stops at each step , and slumbers on his feet ; AUTUMN , when NATURE , who with sorrow feels Her dread foe Winter treading on her heels , Makes up in value what she wants in length , Exerts her pow'rs , and puts forth all her strength , Bids Corn and Fruits in full perfection rise , Corn Fairly Tax'd , and Fruits without Excise ; WINTER , benumb'd with cold , no longer known By robes of Fur , since Furs became our own , A Hag who , loathing all , by all is loath'd , With weekly , daily , hourly libels cloath'd , Vile FACTION at her heels , who , mighty grown , Would rule the Ruler , and foreclose the throne , Would turn all State-affairs into a trade , Make Laws one day , the next to be Unmade , Beggar at home a People fear'd abroad , And , force defeated , make them Slaves by Fraud ; All , One and All , shall in this Chorus join , And , dumb to other's praise , be loud in Mine . Rejoice , Ye happy GOTHAMITES , rejoice ; Lift up your voice on high , a mighty voice , The voice of gladness , and on ev'ry tongue , In strains of gratitude , be praises hung , The praises of so great and good a King ; Shall CHURCHILL reign , and shall not GOTHAM sing ? The Year , Grand Circle , in whose ample round The Seasons regular and fix'd are bound , ( Who , in his course repeated o'er and o'er , Sees the same things which he had seen before . The same Stars keep their Watch , and the same Sun Runs in the track where he from first hath run ; The same Moon rules the night , Tides ebb and flow , Man is a Puppet , and this World a Show , Their old dull follies old dull fools pursue , And Vice in nothing , but in Mode , is new , He — a Lord ( now fair befall that Pride , He liv'd a Villain , but a Lord he died ) DASHWOOD is pious , BERKLEY fix'd as fate , SANDWICH ( THANK HEAV'N ) first Minister of State , And , tho' by Fools despis'd , by Saints unbless'd , By Friends neglected , and by Foes oppress'd , Scorning the servile arts of each Court-Elf , Founded on Honour , WILKES is still himself ) The Year , encircled with the various train Which waits , and fills the glories of his reign , Shall , taking up this theme , in Chorus join , And , dumb to others 'Praise , be loud in Mine . Rejoice , Ye happy GOTHAMITES , rejoice ; Lift up your voice on high , a mighty voice , The voice of gladness , and on ev'ry tongue , In strains of gratitude , be praises hung , The praises of so great and good a King ; Shall Churchill reign , and shall not GOTHAM sing ? Thus far in Sport — nor let our Critics hence , Who sell out monthly trash , and call it Sense , Too lightly of our present labours deem , Or judge at random of so high a Theme ; High is our Theme , and worthy are the men To feel the sharpest stroke of Satire's Pen ; But when kind Time a proper season brings , In serious mood to treat of serious things , Then shall they find , disdaining idle play , That I can be as grave and dull as They . Thus far in Sport — nor let half Patriots , ( those Who shrink from ev'ry blast of Pow'r which blows , Who , with tame Cowardice familiar grown , Would hear my thoughts , but fear to speak their own , Who , lest bold Truths , to do sage Prudence spite , Should burst the Portals of their lips by night , Tremble to trust themselves one hour in sleep , ) Condemn our course , and hold our Caution cheap . When brave Occasion bids , for some great end When Honour calls the Poet as a Friend , Then shall They find , that , e'en on danger's brink , He dares to Speak , what they scarce dare to Think . END OF THE FIRST BOOK .