Reflections on the Prevalence of Fashion.

Reflections on the Prevalence of Fashion . NOW while the fields in vivid green are drest , And early flowers adorn Spring's simple vest ; While brighter suns the opening landscape warm , And Nature's beauties in each object charm ; Far from the tumult of the worldly crowd , From mad extravagance and folly loud , Here let me sit , and court the Muse to tell By what attractions , by what magic spell , Fashion's frail chains the heaven-born soul can bind , And fix on trifles the deluded mind ; Can lead us from the path mild Reason taught , Corrupt our principles , debase our thought ; And render Man , for noblest views design'd , To all Creation's boundless glories blind . The sons of earth in emulation vie To gain applause , to draw the public eye , And to become , pursuing different rules , The praise and envy of surrounding fools . To few , alas ! th' indulgent hand of Heaven Has dazzling wit or deep discernment given : To few superior talents are allow'd , To rise sublime above the grovelling crowd ; To view unmov'd what meaner mortals prize , And all Ambition's glittering toys despise . Not so the favourites of Fortune's train — Hers are the gay , the trivial , and the vain ; To them profuse the partial goddess pours Her lavish honours , and her golden stores . Yet shall the happy triflers want a name , Unnoted in the shining lists of Fame ? A name nor wealth nor titles can bestow : That , and that only , to ourselves we owe . Convinc'd of this , to gain the envied prize Each candidate some various method tries . In rural scenes , where peaceful shades delight , And flowery meadows fix the wandering sight — Where pebbly streams in wild meanders flow , And perfum'd winds o'er beds of roses blow — Even there the love of fame mankind inspires , And rustic breasts with rustic passions fires . The 'Squire feels anguish more than words can tell , If other hounds in swiftness his excel ; If other steeds , more forward in the race , Outstrip his coursers in the devious chase . The Country Justice , into years declin'd , To more substantial honours turns his mind : He glories in his barns with plenty stor'd , And the luxuriance of his copious board ; Nor lets one care his placid mind molest — Except some costlier dish should crown another's feast . The rural Belle , impatient , seeks renown In some new head-dress just arriv'd from Town ; Thinks how the wond'ring neighbourhood will gaze , And circling beauties envy while they praise . But few the cares that fill her artless breast , Not yet by Vice or tainted or deprest , Compar'd to those more courtly belles engage , Where Fashion governs with despotic rage ; Where her fair vot'ry with contempt surveys The long-lost innocence of former days : Sever'd from blushing Modesty and Truth , The dear companions of her happier youth , No ties can bind , no principles restrain , And Love and Duty plead , but plead in vain . Yet , of the numbers who in error tread , More are by weakness than by vice misled — And rather act an imitative part , Than follow the plain dictates of their heart . — Elected by a grateful people's voice , More from a sense of duty than from choice , To join in senates in the loud debate , The good Aurelius leaves his lov'd retreat . With him the young Hermione he leads — Hermione , who rear'd 'mid circling shades , Remote from Fashion and remote from Strife , He chose the partner of his blameless life . Her cheeks disclos'd the rose's softest dye , And innocence beam'd lovely from her eye ; On her red lips a mild composure charm'd , And perfect symmetry her figure form'd . In this new scene with timid steps she mov'd , And blushing heard when Flattery approv'd ; The fluttering beaux in vain to please her sought — Her dear Aurelius fill'd her every thought . Now Envy loudly ridicules the fair , Censures her dress , her manner , and her air ; And every female , swell'd with jealous hate , Condemns what she can never imitate ; — And , lower than the last of womankind , To theirs his taunts the silly coxcomb join'd , Whom Nature form'd in a capricious mood , Scorn'd by the wise , and pitied by the good . Hermione abash'd view'd Envy's sneer , While its rude satires piere'd her listening ear . By nature virtuous , but too weak her sense To brave th' attacks of dark Malevolence , She leaves reluctant all she fondly loves , And follows what her judgment disapproves ; With follies first , with vices next complied , And sacrific'd her feelings to her pride . Now , first in . Dissipation's giddy train , Behold Hermione in triumph reign : No more she rises with the morning ray , But wastes in cards the night — in sleep the day ; Her pallid cheek , its native colour fled , Assumes the glow of artificial red ; Her charms decay , her wonted health is flown , Her former rectitude's for ever gone . In vain with anxious care Aurelius tries To clear the mists of error from her eyes . At length he leads her to the rural plain , Where once Contentment bless'd his wide domain : But now no more Contentment will attend , No more from Care's corrosive stings defend ; His chang'd Hermione he fondly mourns , Whose alter'd heart no tenderness returns ; Till , long between contending passions tost , His fortune sunk , his peace entirely lost , He yielded to the welcome stroke of death , And sigh'd Hermione ! with latest breath . O sad vicissitude of human state ! Daughters of Virtue , with vain pride elate , Condemn not here a sister's levity ; But trembling think , such you , perhaps , may be . — Yet , if o'er this sad tale we drop a tear , What mortal , say , from laughter can forbear , When he beholds Emilius' awkward grace , His figure mean , and consequential face , And views his mind — receptacle for all The follies that to wretched mortals fall ? Bred in the City to an humble fate , The sober youth behind his counter sat : His study was of stocks the rise and fall , And his grand festival a Lord Mayor's ball . When Fortune , careful of the fool and knave , A large estate beyond his wishes gave , He hastes to figure where the Great resort , And quits th' Exchange to bustle through the Court . To ape the courtly fop in vain he tries ; Now with Lord Trinket in his carriage vies ; Now games , now drinks , now swears — and all for fame , Since more illustrious blockheads do the same . — But hark ! what knell , inspiring awful fear , In broken sounds thus strikes my wounded ear ? That knell it calls Olivia to the tomb , Fallen in gay youth , in beauty's brightest bloom , Adorn'd with sentiment and sense refin'd , Whose only fault was a too feeling mind . Propitious Fortune , at her natal hour , Had added wealth to Nature's lavish dower : The rich Hortensio's child and only heir , She grew and flourish'd in his guardian care , Till the pleas'd father with delight survey'd His fondest hopes accomplish'd in the maid , With native graces still by art , Agenor sought , and won the virgin's heart : Her sire consents , and Hymen's holy bands Soon at the altar join their willing hands . Unhappy fair ! she hop'd the sacred rite Their hearts should ever with their hands unite , Her husband still her lover should remain , And Death alone dissolve their lasting chain . Not so Agenor . Bred in Fashion's schools , And blindly govern'd by her senseless rules , He thought affection for a wife disgrac'd The nice refinement of a man of taste . In vain mankind with one consent declare Olivia fairest amid thousands fair : Blind to her charms , unworthy of her love , To meaner beauties his affections rove ; And , seeking fancied bliss , his footsteps roam Far from the genuine happiness of home . A soft concern , mix'd with offended pride , Usurp'd the breast of his neglected bride , To think that he alone unmov'd should view Those peerless charms which all beside subdue . At length her busy thought suggests a scheme Destructive to her peace and to her fame , And makes her strive by jealousy to gain That fickle heart which scorn'd a milder chain . Too soon the story restless Scandal spread , How fair Olivia , by resentment led , Justly incens'd against a faithless spouse , Had in her turn forgot her plighted vows . Agenor heard the tale ; and , wild with rage , Mistaken honour urg'd him to engage His life for her , whom his caprice disdain'd While undefil'd her character remain'd . Why should on the sad relation dwell ? A hasty challenge sent — he fought , and fell ! Borne through those streets a senseless load of clay , Where late he wander'd negligent and gay , His alter'd features crowds with tears survey . But who can paint the anguish and despair That rack'd the bosom of the hapless fair Who caus'd his death , when , pierc'd with many a wound , The man she lov'd a breathless corse she found ? Horror , contrition , grief , at once combin'd To rouse each feeling of her tortur'd mind , Till , her weak frame unequal to the strife , Prone on Agenor's bier she clos'd her wretched life . Learn hence , ye fair , to shun each dangerous art , Nor even in thought from rectitude depart : Be still unmov'd by Jealousy's alarms , For Temper more than Wit or Beauty charms . So , when old age shall spoil each transient grace , Dim thy bright eyes , and wrinkle o'er thy face — Steal from thy faded cheek the rose's hue , And bend that form which now delights the view — Still chaste Affection with unclouded ray Shall gild the evening of thy latest day ; Still powerful Virtue shall victorious prove , And fix , where Beauty fails , a husband's love . — Silius affects an absent careless mien , Nothing by him is heard , and nothing seen ; Or , should his eyes a play or ball explore , He listless yawns , and wishes it was o'er . — His native England Lycidas disdains , And quits her oaken groves for Gallia's plains : Foreign his accent , foreign is his air , His dress resplendent with Parisian glare ; And , while his apish tricks contempt inspire , He vainly thinks the wondering crowds admire . — Nothing so much delights Camillo's mind , As to be thought a man of taste refin'd ; On pictures , statues , poems to decide , And by his nod the sons of Genius guide . Unnumber'd artists-crowd his plenteous board , And needy Science courts the wealthy lord : There , like the mimic heroes of the stage , He acts Mæcenas to the present age , While starving wits , amid their venal lays , Pay for substantial dinners empty praise . — But these are trifling faults , and less proceed From heart defective than defective head . But darker shades remain , whose force to paint , Language is cold , ideas are but faint ; Crimes at which Reason starts with holy fear , To which even Pity scarce can grant a tear . Behold the reptile man , whose impious pride Dares all that's sacred , all that's just , deride ; Dares the existence of that God deny , Who was , and is , through all eternity ; Whose power , resistless , to destroy or save , To man , ungrateful man , a being gave ; Whose mercy doom'd his only Son to bleed , Our sinful race from paths of Death to lead ; Who , omnipresent , all our guilt can view , And pitying yet withholds the vengeance due ! But let me hope that few thus madly dare Wage with Omnipotence a desperate war . Most men acknowledge and revere a God , And dread at intervals his chastening rod : But scarce the tears of soft Contrition spring , When , borne on Dissipation's airy wing , And mid the world's ensnaring pleasures tost , Too oft the thoughtless wanderer is lost . Children of Error , then , a moment stay , Nor scorn to listen to my artless lay , Which seeks no recompense , but to impart A ray of Truth to the bewilder'd heart . Yet think an hour shall come , nor far that hour , When Death's dread horrors shall each sense o'erpower ; When ye shall ask in vain a little time , In vain lament the errors of your prime ; With terror view your near approaching end , And helpless , hopeless to the grave descend . O then reform , while haply yet ye can , While Providence allows a length'ning span , Nor to a future time the change delay . Perhaps your life may finish with this day ; The present day , the present hour alone , Is all , weak mortal , thou can'st call thine own . Then seize this fleeting moment to deplore Thy sins , resolv'd to yield to sin no more ; Regard life's darkest hours , its scenes most gay , As showers and sun-beams of an April day ; And fix thy mind on that sublime abode , Where soon thy spirit may rejoin its God ; There , mix'd with angels and archangels , raise The hymn of glory to thy Maker's praise ; Thy views o'er vast , unmeasur'd space extend , And taste pure joys that know nor change nor end !