Johnson, Samuel, 1709-1784: LONDON: A POEM, In Imitation of the Third SATIRE of
                                  JUVENAL.
  By Mr. Samuel Johnson. [from Miscellanies and Collections, 1660-1750:A Collection of Poems
                                     (1763)]
                                                              ------ Quis ineptæ
                      Tam patiens urbis, tam ferreus ut teneat se?

                                      Juv.
 
 

1    Tho' grief and fondness in my breast rebel,
2    When injur'd Thales bids the town farewel,
3    Yet still my calmer thoughts his choice commend,
4    I praise the hermit, but regret the friend;
5    Who now resolves, from vice and London far,
6    To breathe in distant fields a purer air,
7    And, fix'd on Cambria's solitary shore,
8    Give to St. David one true Briton more.
9    For who wou'd leave, unbrib'd, Hibernia's land,
10    Or change the rocks of Scotland for the Strand?
11    There none are swept by sudden fate away,
12    But all whom hunger spares, with age decay:
13    Here malice, rapine, accident, conspire,
14    And now a rabble rages, now a fire;
15    Their ambush here relentless ruffians lay,
16    And here the fell attorney prowls for prey;
17    Here falling houses thunder on your head,
18    And here a female atheist talks you dead.

19    While Thales waits the wherry that contains
20    Of dissipated wealth the small remains,
21    On Thames's bank in silent thought we stood,
22    Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood.
23    Struck with the seat that gave Eliza birth,
24    We kneel, and kiss the consecrated earth;
25    In pleasing dreams the blissful age renew,
26    And call Britannia's glories back to view;
27    Behold her cross triumphant on the main,
28    The guard of commerce, and the dread of Spain.
29    Ere masquerades debauch'd, excise oppress'd,
30    Or English honour grew a standing jest.

31    A transient calm the happy scenes bestow,
32    And for a moment lull the sense of woe.
33    At length awaking with contemptuous frown,
34    Indignant Thales eyes the neighb'ring town.

35    Since worth, he cries, in these degen'rate days
36    Wants ev'n the cheap reward of empty praise;
37    In those curs'd walls, devote to vice and gain,
38    Since unrewarded science toils in vain;
39    Since hope but sooths to double my distress,
40    And ev'ry moment leaves my little less;
41    While yet my steddy steps no staff sustains,
42    And life still vig'rous revels in my veins;
43    Grant me, kind heaven, to find some happier place,
44    Where honesty and sense are no disgrace;
45    Some pleasing bank where verdant osiers play,
46    Some peaceful vale with nature's painting gay;
47    Where once the harrass'd Briton found repose,
48    And safe in poverty defy'd his foes;
49    Some secret cell, ye pow'rs, indulgent give:
50    Let --- live here, for --- has learn'd to live.
51    Here let those reign, whom pensions can incite
52    To vote a patriot black, a courtier white;
53    Explain their country's dear-bought rights away,
54    And plead for pirates in the face of day;
55    With slavish tenets taint our poison'd youth,
56    And lend a lye the confidence of truth.

57    Let such raise palaces, and manors buy,
58    Collect a tax, or farm a lottery,
59    With warbling eunuchs fill a licens'd stage,
60    And lull to servitude a thoughtless age.

61    Heroes, proceed! what bounds your pride shall hold?
62    What check restrain your thirst of pow'r and gold?
63    Behold rebellious virtue quite o'erthrown,
64    Behold our fame, our wealth, our lives your own.
65    To such, a groaning nation's spoils are giv'n,
66    When publick crimes inflame the wrath of heav'n:
67    But what, my friend, what hope remains for me,
68    Who start at theft, and blush at perjury?
69    Who scarce forbear, tho' Britain's court he sing,
70    To pluck a titled poet's borrow'd wing;
71    A statesman's logick unconvinc'd can hear,
72    And dare to slumber o'er the Gazetteer;
73    Despise a fool in half his pension dress'd,
74    And strive in vain to laugh at H---y's jest.

75    Others with softer smiles, and subtler art,
76    Can sap the principles, or taint the heart;
77    With more address a lover's note convey,
78    Or bribe a virgin's innocence away.
79    Well may they rise, while I, whose rustick tongue
80    Ne'er knew to puzzle right, or varnish wrong,
81    Spurn'd as a beggar, dreaded as a spy,
82    Live unregarded, unlamented die,

83    For what but social guilt the friend endears?
84    Who shares Orgilio's crimes, his fortune shares:
85    But thou, should tempting villainy present,
86    All Marlb'rough hoarded, or all Villiers spent,
87    Turn from the glitt'ring bribe thy scornful eye,
88    Nor sell for gold, what gold could never buy,
89    The peaceful slumber, self-approving day,
90    Unsullied fame, and conscience ever gay.

91    The cheated nation's happy fav'rites see;
92    Mark whom the great caress, who frown on me.
93    London! the needy villain's gen'ral home,
94    The common sewer of Paris and of Rome,
95    With eager thirst, by folly or by fate,
96    Sucks in the dregs of each corrupted state.
97    Forgive my transports on a theme like this,
98    I cannot bear a French metropolis.

99    Illustrious Edward! from the realms of day,
100    The land of heroes and of saints survey;
101    Nor hope the British lineaments to trace,
102    The rustick grandeur, or the surly grace,
103    But lost in thoughtless ease, and empty show,
104    Behold the warrior dwindled to a beau;
105    Sense, freedom, piety, refin'd away,
106    Of France the mimick, and of Spain the prey.

107    All that at home no more can beg or steal,
108    Or like a gibbet better than a wheel;
109    Hiss'd from the stage, or hooted from the court,
110    Their air, their dress, their politicks import;
111    Obsequious, artful, voluble and gay,
112    On Britain's fond credulity they prey.
113    No gainful trade their industry can 'scape,
114    They sing, they dance, clean shoes, or cure a clap;
115    All sciences a fasting Monsieur knows,
116    And bid him go to hell, to hell he goes.

117    Ah! what avails it, that, from slav'ry far,
118    I drew the breath of life in English air;
119    Was early taught a Briton's right to prize,
120    And lisp the tales of Henry's victories;
121    If the gull'd conqueror receives the chain,
122    And flattery subdues when arms are vain?

123    Studious to please, and ready to submit,
124    The supple Gaul was born a parasite:
125    Still to his int'rest true, where-e'er he goes,
126    Wit, bravery, worth, his lavish tongue bestows;
127    In ev'ry face a thousand graces shine,
128    From ev'ry tongue flows harmony divine.
129    These arts in vain our rugged natives try,
130    Strain out with fault'ring diffidence a lye,
131    And gain a kick for aukward flattery.

132    Besides, with justice this discerning age
133    Admires their wond'rous talents for the stage:
134    Well may they venture on the mimick's art,
135    Who play from morn to night a borrow'd part;
136    Practis'd their master's notions to embrace,
137    Repeat his maxims, and reflect his face;
138    With ev'ry wild absurdity comply,
139    And view each object with another's eye;
140    To shake with laughter ere the jest they hear,
141    To pour at will the counterfeited tear,
142    And as their patron hints the cold or heat,
143    To shake in dog-days, in December sweat.
144    How, when competitors like these contend,
145    Can surly virtue hope to fix a friend?
146    Slaves that with serious impudence beguile,
147    And lye without a blush, without a smile;
148    Exalt each trifle, ev'ry vice adore,
149    Your taste in snuff, your judgment in a whore;
150    Can Balbo's eloquence applaud, and swear
151    He gropes his breeches with a monarch's air.

152    For arts like these prefer'd, admir'd, caress'd,
153    They first invade your table, then your breast;
154    Explore your secrets with insidious art,
155    Watch the weak hour, and ransack all the heart;
156    Then soon your ill-plac'd confidence repay,
157    Commence your lords, and govern or betray.

158    By numbers here from shame or censure free,
159    All crimes are safe, but hated poverty.
160    This, only this, the rigid law pursues,
161    This, only this, provokes the snarling Muse.
162    The sober trader at a tatter'd cloak,
163    Wakes from his dream, and labours for a joke;
164    With brisker air the silken courtiers gaze,
165    And turn the varied taunt a thousand ways.
166    Of all the grief that harrass the distress'd;
167    Sure the most bitter is a scornful jest;
168    Fate never wounds more deep the gen'rous heart,
169    Than when a blockhead's insult points the dart.

170    Has heaven reserv'd, in pity to the poor,
171    No pathless waste or undiscover'd shore?
172    No secret island in the boundless main?
173    No peaceful desart yet unclaim'd by Spain?
174    Quick let us rise, the happy seats explore,
175    And bear oppression's insolence no more.

176    This mournful truth is ev'ry where confess'd,
177    Slow rises worth, by poverty depress'd:
178    But here more slow, where all are slaves to gold,
179    Where looks are merchandise, and smiles are sold;
180    Where won by bribes, by flatteries implor'd,
181    The groom retails the favours of his lord.

182    But hark! th'affrighted crowd's tumultuous cries
183    Roll through the streets and thunder to the skies:
184    Rais'd from some pleasing dream of wealth and power,
185    Some pompous palace or some blissful bow'r,
186    Aghast you start, and scarce with aking sight
187    Sustain th'approaching fire's tremendous light;
188    Swift from pursuing horrors take your way,
189    And leave your little all to flames a prey;

190    Then thro' the world a wretched vagrant roam,
191    For where can starving merit find a home?
192    In vain your mournful narrative disclose,
193    While all neglect, and most insult your woes.

194    Should heaven's just bolts Orgilio's wealth confound,
195    And spread his flaming palace on the ground,
196    Swift o'er the land the dismal rumour flies,
197    And publick mournings pacify the skies;
198    The laureat tribe in servile verse relate,
199    How virtue wars with persecuting fate;
200    With well-feign'd gratitude the pension'd band
201    Refund the plunder of the beggar'd land.
202    See! while he builds, the gaudy vassals come,
203    And crowd with sudden wealth the rising dome;
204    The price of boroughs and of souls restore;
205    And raise his treasures higher than before.
206    Now bless'd with all the baubles of the great,
207    The polish'd marble, and the shining plate,
208    Orgilio sees the golden pile aspire,
209    And hopes from angry heav'n another fire.

210    Could'st thou resign the park and play content,
211    For the fair banks of Severn or of Trent;
212    There might'st thou find some elegant retreat,
213    Some hireling senator's deserted seat;
214    And stretch thy prospects o'er the smiling land,
215    For less than rent the dungeons of the Strand;
216    There prune thy walks, support thy drooping flow'rs,
217    Direct thy rivulets, and twine thy bow'rs;
218    And, while thy beds a cheap repast afford,
219    Despise the dainties of a venal lord.
220    There ev'ry bush with nature's musick rings,
221    There ev'ry breeze bears health upon its wings;
222    On all thy hours security shall smile,
223    And bless thy evening walk and morning toil.

224    Prepare for death, if here at night you roam,
225    And sign your will before you sup from home.

226    Some fiery fop, with new commission vain,
227    Who sleeps on brambles till he kills his man;
228    Some frolick drunkard, reeling from a feast,
229    Provokes a broil, and stabs you for a jest

230    Yet ev'n these heroes, mischievously gay,
231    Lords of the street, and terrors of the way;
232    Flush'd as they are with folly, youth and wine,
233    Their prudent insults to the poor confine;
234    Afar they mark the flambeau's bright approach,
235    And shun the shining train, and golden coach.

236    In vain these dangers past, your doors you close,
237    And hope the balmy blessings of repose:
238    Cruel with guilt and daring with despair,
239    The midnight murd'rer bursts the faithless bar;
240    Invades the sacred hour of silent rest,
241    And plants, unseen, a dagger in your breast.

242    Scarce can our fields, such crowds at Tyburn die,
243    With hemp the gallows and the fleet supply.
244    Propose your schemes, ye senatorian band,
245    Whose ways and means support the sinking land;
246    Lest ropes be wanting in the tempting spring,
247    To rig another convoy for the k---g.

248    A single jail, in Alfred's golden reign,
249    Could half the nation's criminals contain;
250    Fair Justice then, without constraint ador'd,
251    Held high the steady scale, but deep'd the sword;
252    No spies were paid, no special juries known,
253    Blest age! but ah! how diff'rent from our own!

254    Much could I add, but see the boat at hand,
255    The tide retiring calls me from the land:
256    Farewel!---When youth, and health, and fortune spent,
257    Thou fly'st for refuge to the wilds of Kent;
258    And tir'd like me with follies and with crimes,
259    In angry numbers warn'st succeeding times;
260    Then shall thy friend, nor thou refuse his aid,
261    Still foe to vice, forsake his Cambrian shade;
262    In virtue's cause once more exert his rage,
263    Thy satire point, and animate thy page.