THE STEAM ENGINE.

A SATIRE.

Petere inde coronam

Unde prlus nulli velarunt tempora Muzæ.

Εμοι δε ειη την αλιᾶν τρυπαν εν θεμιδος

οικω.

CONTENTS.

162

cities-Their good effects. Illustrated by a similitudeTheir corruption.-Insecurity of towns, on account of vice, fraud, rapine, and tyranny. Provoke Providence to disperse

mankind again-the Steam-Engine sent for that purpose

how sent-described.-Its effects. Citizens compelled to live in the country-its new appearance.-The grove once sacred to Diana, now usurped by Venus. Men still vicious--but less so than they would be in town. If the Steam Engine were corrected, men might return to town-providentially prevented by the Queen's trial. The disorders of barbarism gave rise to cities-their own vices destroy them.

TIME was, ere law and institute began,
Of all the brutes that through the forest ran,
The wildest was ungovernable man.
When tender Orpheus struck his awful lyre,
And taught religion with a prophet's fire,
The savage tribes confess'd the power of song,
And harmony prevented many a wrong.
Then social kindness built her fost'ring nest,
Of softest dove-down, in the human breast.
Sons, to their fathers known, for virtue strove,
And wedlock sanctified the bands of love.

Amphion next in bolder notes display'd
The perfect bliss of Cities; undismay'd
By raging lion's glare, or tiger's spring,
By snake's envenomed bite, or harpy's wing,
Shap'd by his voice to oblong, round, or square,
For temples, palaces, and columns fair,
Fit fragments from their marble quarries rose,
And rested where the wise musician chose.
Each tree too sent his well-proportioned beam,
(Perhaps ev'n then with secret aid of steam,)
To lift the roofs, the stately walls to bind-
Ease, safety, virtue, pleasure, bless mankind.
See where the tyrant Rhone his poison flings
From Alpine summit, and, corrosive, brings
A burning sand to Sion's frighted vale;

pace,

Tis death where'er he spreads his wat'ry veil.
See him on th' opening shore of Leman Lake,
Check'd by superior purity, forsake
His headlong rage; relent, with altered
And sinking low, conceal his mud-stain'd face.
There in the throng of waters he may rest,
And purg'd, become a copy of the best.
Geneva pleas'd salutes the polish'd Rhone,
Swift envoy from the nymphs to Neptune's

throne.

E'en so the savage tribes in cities clos'd,
Beneath the shade of equity repos'd;
Refin'd their manners, and improv'd the arts,
All virtues learnt that science fair imparts.
But, time proceeding, to mankind arose
A period new; for human fortune knows
No stable footing; nor the wisest son
Can claim the conquests which his father won.
A curse attends on all improvements, which
Makes poor men envious, and oppressors rich.
So civil government makes civil war,
Of some who riches guard, from those that are
Keen on the watch to seize the destin'd prey.
The poet's miracle, a moral lay,

That e'er content with poverty could stay.

A sister queen to murder by her side,
To wear silk stockings, and in coach to ride.
Why should the stranger to Crotona go?
Pythagoras instructs the shades below;
In his once erowded philosophic school,
Enormous vice now bears despotic rule.

Close on the borders of some lonely wood, Where late its mother and the shepherd stood,

A poor forgotten lamb for pity bleats,
Runs, stops, and runs, and oft his call repeats;
The waking wolf before the shepherd hears,
And limb from limb the hapless victim tears.
From succour far, beset with treacheries,
So in our cities now the stranger dies.

Where on the mart can honesty resort?
For cheated truth what corner of the court
Is now reserv'd? the wealthy Jew prevails,
And poverty must sneak behind the rails.
How should a judge, in ermine, pride, and lace,
With patience look on rags and smutty face?
"To prison with him, and to gallows soon,
"Let not such ordure stink beneath the moon.'
The lawyers quirk, the sneaking traders fraud,
The faithless guards that nightly walk abroad,
The griping magistrate, and starving poor,
Make life uneasy, and estate unsure.

Thus towns to infamies of savage life Bring back mankind, and none dares take a wife.

Promiscuous love profanes our busiest streets, Sham'd wedlock hides her face from all she meets;

Or else, with hair dishevelled, madly cries,

66

My oaths are sand; say where in secret lies, "The rank adulterer's devoted head?" 'Twere vain to seek him in a royal bed. Why should we marry, when in all distress, Friends, kindred, love us for our children less? E'en captious sycophants from those withdraw Whose wills are occupied by heirs at law.

When it was seen that men before the flood,
By living long in gross corruption stood,
Eternal wisdom, kind, abridg'd the date
Of human life, and fix'd a narrower fate.
Men, in society united, live

Like individuals, and provoking give
Vice to their heirs, full ripe and ready made;
E'en children now are masters of the trade.
The mother vulture to her young ones bears
A living prey, and in their presence tears
The palpitating lamb, and groaning kid;
Sons learn to do whate'er their fathers did.
Nor do death's agonies less luscious seem,
Than the rich nourishment with which they

teem;

But now th'avenging angel is ordain'd, (To punish British cities, deeply stain'd With blasphemy, theft, murder, and base fraud,) To drop a monstrous engine from his cloud, The arsenal of torture for mankind, When sin excessive grows, and conseience blind.

Just as Great Britain's thunder-bearers roll Through ocean's vast expanse to either pole, Chastising piracy, rebellions, crime, In isle, bay, continent, of every clime; So this stern spirit with Nemesian rod, Steers through the troublous air the storm of God;

More than Egyptian plagues, dispensing far, Where giant crimes provoke th'unequal war. Not more astounded were the Lernian frogs, When great king Block descending shook their bogs,

Than the proud citizens of London town,

By monstrous huge Steam-engine thund'ring down:

Boiling with heat, and belching fiery smoke, The monster stood, and brought beneath his yoke

Th' immediate vicinage, who vainly fled;
For all around he rears a ruthless head,
From block to hydra turn'd; affrighting Lud,
With all his croaking battlements of mud,
And ships that ride on his imperial flood.
For he e'en through the ocean can pursue,
O'ertake and punish each abandon'd crew.
As Myrra's child, from aromatic tree,
Burst the hard rind, (for incest will be free,)
So from the side of Mongibello came,
This genuine son of hell's pernicious flame,
Shot through the air by heav'n's supreme
command,

dew

As light'ning swift, and fill'd th' avengers hand,
Who shook it off to plague this suff'ring land.
Sure proof of guilt; for when the viper hiss'd,
And twining grasp'd the great apostle's wrist,
He back restor'd it to the hissing wood,
Because those islanders were kind and good.
And with it came a genius of the fire,
Whose skill his entrails feeds with baneful ire,
Augmenting heat dissolv'd to vapoury
His bowel moisture, which in vigour grew,
Forcing impetuous way through every tube
Of his complex anatomy-the cube,
The valve, cylindric pump, relax, compress
His native fury, and fierce restlessness.
Thus toss'd and roaring like sulphureous storm,
Rais'd by the fiend, it strikes in ev'ry form
Of racks, and wheels, and whirling beams, that

164

This engine sprung from so prodigious birth, With special murders terrified the earth. At noon the pestilence walks forth like night, With inky shroud defiling heavenly light. But yet these characters obscure express, To all who read phenomena, no less Than universal death, if they should dwell Where vengeance keeps the gloomy court of

hell.

As erst Achilles all the Trojan bands Dispers'd with armour-gleaming iron hands, Or Babel's clam'rous hoarse discordant tongues Spread through the world a flood of impious

wrongs;

So this dire monster emptied many a town, And cockney join'd in converse with the clown.

Now men in fear from crowded streets withdraw,

But not to live by simple food or law.
No acorns feed them, no thatch'd hovels hide
Their dainty limbs. Nor social, side by side,
Do man and beast their common right defend,
Nor dress'd alike as best becomes a friend.
Love has its livery, and most nations hold
Their own in war the boldest of the bold.
Adepts who travel turban'd Turks to see,
Do wisely claim their hospitality,
With heads close shorn, and crowns of muslin
tapestry.

Alcina's gardens, aromatic airs,
From sweeter plants than rich Arabia bears,
Perfume their pygmy palaces and ground.
Those seem to dance in gay confusion round
The guilty suburbs. More advanc'd they try,
Like Galatea, through the wood to fly,
Yet turn to ogle with lascivious eye.

Our painted ploughs and carts may haply

shock

The taste of lowing herd or bleating flock; The straw-built roof more snugly may invest The rural mouse, or sparrow in her nest. Their minds change not; but modern masonry Seems more commodious to the human eye.

The country maids their dairy dress with

care,

And eke themselves with neatness due prepare. The rustic poets sing in courtly style

Their love-sick idyls, and the maids beguile; Such seldom wait for blessing from above, But watch the coming gale with bosoms full

of love.

The grove was Dianas temple, chaste as snow
Or childish innocence, though Venus now
Usurp her arrows, cheating those who dream
Of lunar radiance, with a hotter beam.
Once every crime that man's corrupted mind
Could harbour or commit was duly fin'd.
One now we legal deem, the state may sell,
And mortgage all the rights of heav'n and hell,
Yet wisely keep it at a doubtful rate,
Like fruiterer at his stall, who bids you eat,
Then names the rascal price. "Tis just to give
An equal power to both, as sons of Eve.

The convict in adultery, rich and gay,
His lady's worth inquires, and what's to pay
The country, not exempt from wand'ring

fires,

Yet softens and abates our wild desires;
And emulation wanting in the race,
The vicious passions keep a milder pace.
When crimes are rife, 'twere dangerous to

remove

The antidote to towns, this Lemnian stove,

167

On Conscience.

66

tion.

Oct. 14. 1820.

THEOLOGUS.

"Conscience is defined by some to be 'that judgment which the rational soul passes on all her actions; and is said to be a faculty of the soul itself, and consequently natural to it. Others state, that it is a ray of divine light. Milton calls it God's umpire:' and Dr. Young calls it a 'god in man.' To me it seems to be no other than a faculty capable of receiving light and conviction from the Spirit of God: and answers the end, in spiritual matters, to the soul that the eye does to the body in the process of vision. The eye is not light in itself; nor is it capable of discerning any object, but by the instrumentality of solar or artificial light: but it has organs properly adapted to the reception of the rays of light, and the various images of the objects which they exhibit. When these are present to an eye, (the organs of which are perfect,) then there is a discernment of those objects which are within the sphere of vision; but when the light is absent, there is no perception of the shape, dimensions, size, or colour, of any object, howsoever entire or perfect the optic nerve and the different humours may be.

"In the same manner, (comparing spiritual things with natural,) the Spirit of God enlightens that eye of the soul which we call conscience: it penetrates

168

it with its effulgence; and (speaking as human language will permit on the subject) it has powers properly adapted to the reception of the Spirit's emanations, which, when received, exhibit a real view of the situation, state, &c. of the soul, as it stands in reference to God and eternity. Thus, the Scripture says, 'The Spirit itself bears witness with our spirit, &c.' i. e. it shines into the conscience, and reflects throughout the soul a conviction (proportioned to the degree of light communicated) of condemnation or acquittance, according to the end of its coming.

"Conscience is sometimes said to be good, bad, tender, seared, &c.—good, if it acquit or approve; bad, if it condemn or disapprove; tender, if it be alarmed at the least approach of evil, and severe in scrutinizing the actions of the mind or body; and seared, if it feel little alarm, &c. on the commission of guilt. But these epithets can scarcely belong to it, if the common definition of it be admitted; for, how can it be said there is a 'tender light,' a' dark or hardened light,' 'bad God,' &c. &c. But, on the other definition, these terms are easily understood, and are exceedingly proper: e. g. ' a good conscience is one to which the Spirit of God has brought intelligence of the pardon of all the sins of the soul, and its reconciliation to God through the blood of Christ; and this good conscience retained, implies God's continued approbation of such a person's conduct; see Acts xxiii. 1. 1 Tim. i. 5, 19; and here, Heb. xiii. 18. A bad, or evil, conscience,' supposes a charge of guilt brought against the soul by the Holy Spirit, for the breach of the Divine laws; and which He makes known to it by conscience, as a medium of conveying his own light to the mind, see Heb. x. 22. 1 Tim. iv. 2. Tit. i. 3.

A tender conscience' implies one fully irradiated by the light of the Holy Ghost, which enables the soul to view the good as good, and the evil as evil, in every important respect; which leads it to abominate the latter, and cleave to the former; and, if at any time it act in the smallest measure opposite to these views, it is severe in its reprehensions, and bitter in its regret. A darkened or hardened conscience,' means one that has little or no selfreprehension for acts of transgression, but runs on in sin, and is not aware of the destruction that awaits it; heed