Thomas Cowherd: Verses about World

To you, dear sister, I would now address
A rude production of my rhyming brain;
And if it does increase your happiness,
Of this intrusion you will not complain.

Margaret, nine years have nearly rolled away,
Since I first met on at your father's place.
Well I remember, to the very day,
My first glad glimpse of your young smiling face.

More, I remember for, almost forlorn,
I was received well 'neath that friendly roof,
And such pure kindness unto me was shown
As put my gratitude to strongest proof.

May I not hope that our dear Saviour took
As done to him what then was done for me?
If so, your names are written in his book,
As an assembled universe may see.

'Tis now, when one not only dear to me,
But to you all, has reached the World of Bliss,
That I am led more clearly still to see
The grandeur which in our Religion is.

May I not hope that in some small degree,
The exercise of my poor gifts did tend
To lead the youthful, loving sisters three
Beneath Christ's yoke their willing necks to bend?

And now what shall I say? You are a wife;
A mother's joys, I trust, will soon be ours.
O, may you still in blest conjugal life
Find that true grace which evermore endues.

And may you live for many years to come
That life which none but Christians true can live.
Press forward now to reach your heavenly home;
A sacrifice to God your being give.

And may the Lord give Grace to one and all,
That we may serve him while we stay below;
Then, in due time He will our spirits call
To share that bliss he can alone bestow.

Domestic bliss! what tongue can speak thy praise!
What poet give, even in his noblest lays,
An eulogy that shall thy charms express,
Clothed in Truth's language, thy own native dress?
To thy sweet influence do we owe the choice
Of all mankind, whoever raised their voice
In Freedom's cause, or stood on battle-ground,
While Liberty her banner waved around.
To thee, when governed by God's holy book,
Must we in future for true heroes look.
For if thou dwellest in each family,
Then long may wave the flag of Liberty!
To keep thee shining brightly round each hearth,
Is worth the wealth contained in all the earth!
It does become us then to study well
(Who knows the secret? Would some Angel tell?)
The best of means by which to foster this
Great earthly blessing, pure domestic bliss!
Hail sweet conjugal union! Hail to thee!
May I thy humble votary ever be!
Take thee away, and each dear earthly home
Would soon a scene of dreadful strife become;
And from this source would spring a thousand woes
Which to imagine has my heart's blood froze!

Dear fellow countrymen! Stand forward now,
And faithful prove unto your marriage vow.
I conjure you by all the sacred ties
By which you're bound unto your families,
Whatever faults, through weakness, you display,
In this be faithful to your dying day!
Why will you leave the wife you swore to love,
Who should to you be as a precious dove,
To wanton with a harlot void of shame,
And bring disgrace upon a father's name?
Why will you pierce yourselves with sorrow through,
And ruin bring upon your children, too?
Oh! let a broken-hearted wife's deep sighs,
And children's woes, bring tears into your eyes!
Give to yourselves no rest, by day or night,
Till you have made their saddened faces bright.
Oh! there is One above who sees you now,
If you repent not he will bring you low!
Regard this warning, flee to God for peace,
From loving your dear families never cease.

And ye, whose task it is to make our laws,
Lend your strong influence to aid this cause;
See that your hands are clean-or make them so-
You've much to answer for, of weal or woe.
Young COOPER'S parents did on him impress
The way to gain domestic happiness:
More by example than by precepts strong
They their dear children sought to lead along
Their constant conduct to each other told
What they preferred before the richest gold.
And one who knows them well can testify
That they themselves would evermore deny,
Ere they would risk their own or family's peace,
As some have done, who scarce from jarring cease.
In such a family, as we might expect,
True discipline met not with long neglect.
And this, employed aright, the Lord will bless,
In spite of childhood's frequent waywardness.

Trained in this manner, WILLIAM soon arrived
Just to the time when means should he contrived
To get for him at once a proper trade,
And he to this not one objection made.
It was his choice that he might he employed
In marble works, and had the thought enjoyed
That some good master would his service need;
But disappointment was for him decreed.
Some other places then the father tried,
But all with boys appeared to be supplied.
The youth more anxious grew from day to day,
Nor could well brook what seemed such sad delay.
He oft retired at night unto his bed,
With various plans contrived in his young head;
But vanished soon were all these well-formed schemes,
As though they were so many empty dreams;
Until, by 'hope deferred,' he was made sad,
And even home scenes failed to make him glad.
He now had nearly reached his thirteenth year,
And did a small, weak youth, indeed, appear;
Yet though so very young and small, this boy
Had felt deep sorrow, and no little joy.

Good news at last he heard, with much delight,
When his dear father came from work one night;
He said a tradesman an apprentice wanted,
And told what wages would to him be granted.
WILLIAM at once accepted of the place,
And met the man next morn with smiling face.
'Twas soon agreed that he a month should try
The work, and his new master satisfy.
This soon flew past, and he was strongly bound
Till seven long years should, in their course, move round.

To mention all his trials and mishaps
Would please no reader of this tale, perhaps;
Suffice to say, he did himself exert
In his new business, and was soon expert
In making up their wares of shining metal-
A teapot, can, or otherwise a kettle.
Let none despise him for his occupation,
For God has stamped it with His approbation.
'Tis therefore lawful, and should always be
Approved of men, though e'en of high degree.
God's holy book commands that saints engage
In honest callings, throughout every age;
That they may lead a just and holy life,
Nor needlessly be found in worldly strife;
That they themselves and households may maintain,
From the just proceeds of a righteous gain.
Let none be found so foolish or so base,
As to regard mechanics as a race
Devoid of intellect and common sense,
Who to true honor have no just pretence.
Our ranks can boast of one far higher name
Than e'er was found in other paths of fame.
This, my assertion, may to many prove
A puzzle great, while puzzles they do love.
Cheer up, ye poor mechanics! and pursue
Your lowly trades, and Heaven keep still in view.

Ye who have naught to boast save rank and wealth,
Look round you openly-or look by stealth;
See what our factories have done for you-
And for the world-whichever side you view!
Without them, Ocean ne'er would bear a sail
To catch the breeze, or fly before the gale;
Without them, where could we obtain the Press-
That mightiest engine in the universe?
Take it away, and we should back be thrown
Into dark ages, which would Science drown.
While all the household comforts that we boast
Would disappear, and be forever lost!
Such thoughts as these would ramble through the brain
Of our apprentice, while he did maintain
A due respect for those above him placed,
And kept these things within his mind encased.

Let none suppose that he his trade pursued
Without exposure to temptations rude.
In that small shop he found a vicious youth,
Who feared not God, nor yet regarded truth:
One who deep drank, who gambled, swore and lied
Most awfully; nor can it be denied,
Some other practices he did pursue
Which, I would hope, he long has learned to rue.
'Twas well for WILLIAM that this vicious youth
Was, undisguisedly, averse to truth;
That, in attempting to sow evil seeds,
He made no secret of his foulest deeds.
Howe'er it was, our hero stood his ground,
In such sad vices never was he found.
He now acknowledges 'twas God's rich grace
Kept him from falling in that dangerous place.
And, from his heart, that goodness would adore
Which did preserve him 'midst such trials sore.
'Evil communications,' God declares,
'Corrupt good manners.' Who then boldly dares
To say their influence will not be seen
In those who long exposed to them have been?
For, well we know, the unregenerate mind
Is proper soil wherein to seek and find
The seeds of latent evil, which may spring-
And springing, grow, till they destruction bring.
Even so it was with WILLIAM'S carnal heart,
Some mischief settled in its fleshy part.
Nor was this all; he oft became the butt
Of journeymen or 'prentice, who would glut
Their hardened hearts by showing greatest spite
'Gainst him for following what he thought was right.
Often that wicked youth, in wantonness,
Would try all means to give him sore distress.
And once, with all a dreadful demon's rage-
In such acts none but demons would engage-
He threw him down, and held him; then applied
A lighted candle to his throat and tried
To make him think it merely was a joke!
Which was as true as most of what he spoke.
The sore thus made gave him most cruel pain,
And left a scar that does even now remain.

Bad as this was, it was not half so bad
As what was done unto another lad.
I heard the story, and believe it true-
And shudder while I have it in my view.

The town in which this shocking act was done
I have passed through-it was an English one.
The scene, a Tinsmith's shop, where several men
Were wont to work, and all were present then.
A monster man two solder-irons took,
Made them quite hot, and, with a fiendish look,
Went right behind the boy, and on each side
The heated irons to his face applied!
The youth saw one, his head aside he threw,
Received a burn, before his fate he knew;
He quickly turned it then the other way,
And had two scars unto his dying day!

Methinks I hear the thoughtful reader ask,
'Why was the man, at once, not ta'en to task?
Why did the other men not take a part
With that poor boy, and show a feeling heart?'
I am informed they all enjoyed the joke!
Not one reproachful word they ever spoke.
I blush to think that any of my trade
Should of such monsters ever be afraid.
The very thought still makes my blood to boil-
And shuddering, from such thoughts I back recoil!
I would have dragged the fiend unto a jail,
Or had him fastened to a wagon's tail,
Laid bare his back, and let the lash descend-
And, doing this, would still my act defend!

Ye masters, foremen, journeymen, and all
Who view such scenes, on each of you I call
To try your utmost now to do away
Such shocking deeds, enacted day by day!
If this you do not, you deserve the blame,
And richly merit good men's scorn and shame.

Our WILLIAM'S trials led him oft to think
That, while from duty he would never shrink,
It would be better far to leave his trade,
Than the sad object of such sport be made.
And to his father spoke to this effect-
Not in ill humor, but with much respect.
The father's counsel was, that he should stay.
As soon the other youth would go away.

I here may mention he had one good friend,
And one on whom he always could depend;
This was his dear young master, who oft took
Much pains in reading o'er the Christian's Book-
Received its lessons in his gentle heart,
And showed by this he chose the better part.
He would encourage and defend the youth,
Who saw it right to let him know the truth.
Alas! this master soon was seized by Death,
And died rejoicing in our 'common faith.'
COOPER with grief beheld the sorrowing scene,
And called to mind how kind that friend had been;
And often wished more like to him were found
In all the workshops through the country round.
Still time moved on; the elder youth took leave,
And those he left had no just cause to grieve.
'Twas WILLIAM'S turn to take the other's place,
And do his best to bring it no disgrace.
He now had under him a younger boy,
While better work did his own hands employ.
The workshop was a cellar, close to th' street,
And passers-by would oft the workmen greet.
The light came through an iron-grated space,
Making a prison-like and dismal place.

One day a stir was made that street within,
And each felt anxious to behold the scene.
The errand-boy was busy cleaning knives,
As others have done often in their lives.
He in a moment climbed upon the bench,
And the huge carver in his hand did clench.
WILLIAM was looking up, with outstretched throat,
Quite unobservant, being lost in thought.
'I'll cut! I'll cut!' fell quickly on his ear;
He felt sharp pain, and thus had cause to fear!
The boy, for fun, across WILL'S neck had drawn
The carving-knife, and stood still as a stone;
Quite terrified at sight of blood, he said,
'I thought it was th' back!' it proved the edge instead.
The wound was slight, but might have been far worse-
And he might ne'er have figured in my verse.
One thing the serious reader would expect-
To give God thanks he could not well neglect.
Ah, me! his passion drove such thought away-
Strong Passion's call he hastened to obey;
And feeling in a dreadful angry mood,
He beat the boy that it might do him good!
Yes, beat him without mercy, and declared
'Twas well, indeed, the lad no worse had fared!
God dealt not thus with thee, my hero fine,
He long forbore with all those sins of thine;
And 'twas but just thou should'st some mercy show,
To that poor boy, who did no better know.

My Muse, most willingly, would quit these themes-
Which are not seemly in a poet's dreams.
More pleasing topics now demand my pen,
Though often sung by many wiser men.
The subject of my verse had early felt
That sensibility within him dwelt.
So constituted was he, that at school,
When he should have been conning grammar's rule-
In deep arithmetic-or other task-
His eye would wander to a distant desk,
Which, having reached, itself it stationed there,
Fixed on some beauty-bud of promise rare!
'Twill not seem strange, then, if in after years
This thing called Sensibility appears.
Strange, or not strange, our hero's heart was warm,
Which made him seek the other sex's charm;
And when his mind was brought to fix on one
Who, in his eyes, all others far outshone-
He loved to ramble, on a moonlight night,
With that dear girl-so charming in his sight-
And listen to the murmuring of Kent's stream,
Whose face reflected full each pale moonbeam;
Or wander by the side of some lone wood,
In sweet discourse, which both considered good.
Or else they clomb, delighted, up that hill,
Upon whose top the Castle's ruins still
Invite the mind, in pensiveness, to know
The end of all things in this world below.
Yes, these have stood within that gloomy place,
Which now exhibits many a striking trace
Of the rude ravages of Man and Time,
As seen upon that edifice sublime.
And, as he stood upon that green hill's brow,
Has felt inclined abiding love to vow
To her, who fondly on his arm was leaning
With upturned eyes, which well bespoke their meaning.
That place is sacred to such lovers' vows-
As could be witnessed by each tree that grows
Around those ruins; which have also seen
Some sad, strange sights within their day, I ween!
Sometimes they chose to see a mutual friend,
And in sweet singing would the evening spend.
At other times through beauteous Gillingrove,
[Footnote: A well-known lovers' retreat.]
They, arm in arm, and rapt in love, would rove.
This walk they mostly took on Sunday nights,
As most in keeping with that day's delights.
For both had long quite strict attendants been
At a small Chapel, thought to be too mean
To be oft visited by wealthy men;
Though some would wander to it now and then.
As yet nor WILLIAM, nor his girl, professed
To be by saving Gospel Truth most bless'd;
Yet both went there three times each Sabbath day,
To join in singing, if they did not pray.
And 'tis but right that Christian parents should
To church take children, for the children's good.
To lead them to regard the Lord's own day-
Nor spend its hours in idleness or play.
These two young people might be quite sincere,
For all their friends could ever see or hear;
But though their love was warm, and pure as day,
Time spent in this wise runs to waste away.
Of leisure he had never much to boast,
For every work-day found him at his post;
From six at morn till eight o'clock at night,
He faithful wrought, as in his Master's sight.
Yet oft he wished-that wish was strongest then-
Improvement in his learning to obtain;
But, such love frolics made that wish in vain.
This grieved him much when, afterwards, desire
He felt to nurture true poetic fire;
And did regret that youthful follies cost
So much in precious time forever lost.
This folly seen, he strove with eager haste
To let his leisure run no more to waste,
And rose each morn at four or five o'clock,
To walk abroad, and gain of health a stock;
Or listen to the lark's sweet morning lay,
As he rose up to greet the King of Day;
Or let the lively, thrilling blackbird's song,
Charm his fond ear as he walked slow along.
Sometimes through well-fenced fields of new-mown hay-
Breathing out fragrance-he was wont to stray;
Or climb a bill with firm, elastic tread,
While Sol his early beams in radiance shed.
The Castle hill he mostly did prefer,
As quite accordant with his character.
Upon its ruins he would musing sit,
Till he was seized with a strong rhyming fit;
Then frame his welling thoughts to some rude verse-
Which friends were anxious he should oft rehearse.
If thus his leisure was not always spent,
He read what books his friends had to him lent.
Of such good things he owned but very few-
And parents needed all the cash he drew.
Thus was his time most constantly employed,
While life passed smoothly on-not unenjoyed.