The Complete Poems
‘Crave or be heard; for plenty shall bring forth,
‘Cities shall sing, and vales in rich array
‘Shall laugh, whose fruitful laps bend down with fulness.
‘Our sons shall rise from thrones in joy,
50 ‘Each one buckling on his armour; Morning
‘Shall be prevented by their swords gleaming,
‘And Evening hear their song of victory!
‘Their towers shall be built upon the rocks,
‘Their daughters shall sing, surrounded with shining spears!
‘Liberty shall stand upon the cliffs of Albion,
‘Casting her blue eyes over the green ocean;
‘Or, tow’ring, stand upon the roaring waves,
‘Stretching her mighty spear o’er distant lands;
‘While, with her eagle wings, she covereth
‘Fair Albion’s shore, and all her families’
Dramatic Fragments
PROLOGUE, INTENDED FOR A DRAMATIC PIECE OF KING EDWARD THE FOURTH
O For a voice like thunder, and a tongue
To drown the throat of war! – When the senses
Are shaken, and the soul is driven to madness,
Who can stand? When the souls of the oppressed
Fight in the troubled air that rages, who can stand?
When the whirlwind of fury comes from the
Throne of God, when the frowns of his countenance
Drive the nations together, who can stand?
When Sin claps his broad wings over the battle,
10 And sails rejoicing in the flood of Death;
When souls are torn to everlasting fire,
And fiends of Hell rejoice upon the slain,
O who can stand? O who hath caused this?
O who can answer at the throne of God?
The Kings and Nobles of the Land have done it!
Hear it not, Heaven, thy Ministers have done it!
PROLOGUE TO KING JOHN
Justice hath heaved a sword to plunge in Albion’s breast; for Albion’s sins are crimson dy’d, and the red scourge follows her desolate sons! Then Patriot rose; full oft did Patriot rise, when Tyranny hath stain’d fair Albion’s breast with her own children’s gore. Round his majestic feet deep thunders roll; each heart does tremble, and each knee grows slack. The stars of heaven tremble: the roaring voice of war, the trumpet, calls to battle! Brother in brother’s blood must bathe, rivers of death! O land, most hapless!
10 O beauteous island, how forsaken! Weep from thy
silver fountains; weep from thy gentle rivers! The angel of the island weeps! Thy widowed virgins weep beneath thy shades! Thy aged fathers gird themselves for war! The sucking infant lives to die in battle; the weeping mother feeds him for the slaughter! The husbandman doth leave his bending harvest! Blood cries afar! The land doth sow itself! The glittering youth of courts must gleam in arms! The aged senators their ancient swords assume! The trembling sinews of old age must work the work of death
20 against their progeny; for Tyranny hath stretch’d his
purple arm, and ‘blood,’ he cries; ‘the chariots and the horses, the noise of shout, and dreadful thunder of the battle heard afar!’ – Beware, O Proud! thou shalt be humbled; thy cruel brow, thine iron heart is smitten, though lingering Fate is slow. O yet may Albion smile again, and stretch her peaceful arms, and raise her golden head, exultingly! Her citizens shall throng about her gates, her mariners shall sing upon the sea, and myriads shall to her temples crowd! Her sons shall joy as
30 in the morning! Her daughters sing as to the rising year!
A WAR SONG TO ENGLISHMEN
Prepare, prepare, the iron helm of war,
Bring forth the lots, cast in the spacious orb;
Th’ Angel of Fate turns them with mighty hands,
And casts them out upon the darken’d earth!
Prepare, prepare.
Prepare your hearts for Death’s cold hand! prepare
Your souls for flight, your bodies for the earth!
Prepare your arms for glorious victory!
Prepare your eyes to meet a holy God!
10 Prepare, prepare.
Whose fatal scroll is that? Methinks ’tis mine!
Why sinks my heart, why faultereth my tongue?
Had I three lives, I’d die in such a cause,
And rise, with ghosts, over the well-fought field.
Prepare, prepare.
The arrows of Almighty God are drawn!
Angels of Death stand in the low’ring heavens!
Thousands of souls must seek the realms of light,
And walk together on the clouds of heaven!
20 Prepare, prepare.
Soldiers, prepare! Our cause is Heaven’s cause;
Soldiers, prepare! Be worthy of our cause:
Prepare to meet our fathers in the sky:
Prepare, O troops, that are to fall to-day!
Prepare, prepare.
Alfred shall smile, and make his harp rejoice;
The Norman William, and the learned Clerk,
And Lion Heart, and black-brow’d Edward, with
His loyal queen shall rise, and welcome us!
30 Prepare, prepare.
Poems Written in a Copy of Poetical Sketches
SONG 1ST BY A SHEPHERD
Welcome stranger to this place,
Where joy doth sit on every bough,
Paleness flies from every face,
We reap not what we do not sow.
Innocence doth like a Rose,
Bloom on every Maidens cheek;
Honor twines around her brows,
The jewel Health adorns her neck.
SONG 2ND BY A YOUNG SHEPHERD
When the trees do laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it,
When the meadow laughs with lively green,
And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene;
When the greenwood laughs with the voice of joy,
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by,
When Edessa, and Lyca, and Emilie,
With their sweet round mouths sing Ha, Ha, He.
When the painted birds laugh in the shade
10 Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread,
Come live and be merry and join with me,
To sing the sweet chorus of Ha, Ha, He.
SONG 3RD BY AN OLD SHEPHERD
When silver snow decks Sylvio’s cloaths
And jewel hangs at shepherd’s nose,
We can abide life’s pelting storm
That makes our limbs quake, if our hearts be warm.
Whilst Virtue is our walking staff,
And Truth a lantern to our path;
We can abide life’s pelting storm
That makes our limbs quake, if our hearts be warm.
Blow boisterous Wind, stern Winter frown,
10 Innocence is a Winter’s gown;
So clad, we’ll abide life’s pelting storm
That makes our limbs quake, if our hearts be warm.
SONGS FROM ‘AN ISLAND IN THE MOON’
From CHAP 3d
In the Moon as Phebus stood over his oriental Gardening O ay come Ill sing you a song said the Cynic, the trumpeter shit in his hat said the Epicurean & clapt it on his head said the Pythagorean
Ill begin again said the Cynic
Little Phebus came strutting in
With his fat belly & his round chin
What is it you would please to have
Ho Ho
10 I wont let it go at only so & so
*
Then the Cynic sung
Honour & Genius is all I ask
And I ask the Gods no more
Here Aradobo suckd his under lip
From CHAP 6
Ah said Sipsop, I only wish Jack [Hunter] Tearguts had had the cutting of Plutarch he understands anatomy better than any of the Ancients hell plunge his knife up to the hilt in
a single drive and thrust his fist in, and all in the space of a Quarter of an hour. he does not mind their crying – tho they cry ever so hell Swear at them & keep them down with his fist & tell them that hell scrape their bones if they done lay still & be quiet – What the devil should the people in the hospital that have it done for
10 nothing, make such a piece of work for
Hang that said Suction let us have a Song
Then [Sipsop sang] the Cynic sang
When old corruption first begun
Adornd in yellow vest
He committed on flesh a whoredom
O what a wicked beast
2
From them a callow babe did spring
And old corruption smild
To think his race should never end
20 For now he had a child
3
He calld him Surgery & fed
The babe with his own milk
For flesh & he could neer agree
She would not let him suck
4
And this he always kept in mind
And formd a crooked knife
And ran about with bloody hands
To seek his mothers life
5
And as he ran to seek his mother
30 He met with a dead woman
He fell in love & married her
A deed which is not common
6
She soon grew pregnant & brought forth
Scurvy & spotted fever
The father grind & skipt about
And said I’m made for ever
7
For now I have procurd these imps
Ill try experiments
With that he tied poor scurvy down
40 & stopt up all its vents
8
And when the child began to swell
He shouted out aloud
Ive found the dropsy out & soon
Shall do the world more good
9
He took up fever by the neck
And cut out all its spots
And thro the holes which he had made
He first discovered guts
From CHAP 8
Hear then the pride & knowledge of a Sailor
His sprit sail fore sail main sail & his mizen
A poor frail man god wot I know none frailer
I know no greater sinner than John Taylor
*
Phebe drest like beauties Queen
Jellicoe in faint peagreen
Sitting all beneath a grot
Where the little [lambs do] lambkins trot
Maidens dancing loves a sporting
10 All the country folks a courting
Susan Johnny Bet & Joe
Lightly tripping on a row
Happy people who can be
In happiness compard with ye
The Pilgrim with his crook & hat
Sees your happiness compleat
CHAP 9
I say this evening [we’d] we’ll all get drunk. I say dash, an Anthem an Anthem, said Suction
Lo the Bat with Leathern wing
Winking & blinking
Winking & blinking
Winking & blinking
Like Doctor Johnson
Quid–––O ho Said Doctor Johnson
To Scipio Africanus
10 If you dont own me a Philosopher
Ill kick your Roman Anus
Suction – A ha To Doctor Johnson
Said Scipio Africanus
Lift up my Roman Petticoatt
And kiss my Roman Anus
And the Cellar goes down with a Step (Grand Chorus
Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho Hooooo my poooooor siiides I I should die if I was to live here said Scopprell Ho Ho Ho Ho Ho
1st Vo
Want Matches
20 2d Vo
Yes Yes Yes
1st Vo
Want Matches
2d Vo
No––––––––––
1st Vo
Want Matches
2d Vo
Yes Yes Yes
1st Vo
Want Matches
2d Vo
No––––––––––
Here was Great confusion & disorder Aradobo said that the boys in the street sing something very pritty & funny [about London O no] about Matches Then Mrs Nannicantipot sung
30 I cry my matches as far as Guild hall
God bless the duke & his aldermen all
Then sung Scopprell
I ask the Gods no more
no more no more
Then Said Suction come Mr Lawgiver your song and the Lawgiver sung
As I walkd forth one may morning
To see the fields so pleasant & so gay
O there did I spy a young maiden sweet
40 Among the Violets that smell so sweet
Smell so sweet
Smell so sweet
Among the Violets that smell so sweet
Hang your Violets heres your Rum & water [sweeter] O ay said Tilly Lally. Joe Bradley & I was going along one day in the Sugar house Joe Bradley saw for he had but one eye saw a treacle Jar So he goes of his blind side & dips his hand up to the shoulder in treacle. here lick lick lick said he Ha Ha Ha Ha Ha For he had but one eye
50 Ha Ha Ha Ho then sung Scopprell
And I ask the Gods no more
no more no more
no more no more
Miss Gittipin said he you sing like a harpsichord. let your bounty descend to our fair ears and favour us with a fine song
then she sung
This frog he would a wooing ride
Kitty alone Kitty alone
60 This frog he would a wooing ride
Kitty alone & I
[This frog] Sing cock I cary Kitty alone
Kitty alone Kitty alone
Cock I cary Kitty alone
Kitty alone & I
Charming truly elegant said Scopprell
And I ask the gods no more
Hang your Serious Songs, said Sipsop & he sung as follows
Fa ra so bo ro
70 Fa ra bo ra
Sa ba ra ra ba rare roro
Sa ra ra ra bo ro ro ro
Radara
Sarapodo no flo ro
Hang Italian songs lets have English said Quid [Sing a Mathematical Song Obtuse Angle then he sung] English Genius for ever here I go
Hail Matrimony made of Love
80 To thy wide gates how great a drove
On purpose to be yok’d do come
Widows & maids & Youths also
That lightly trip on beauty’s toe
Or sit on beauty’s bum
Hail fingerfooted lovely Creatures
The females of our human Natures
Formed to suckle all Mankind
Tis you that come in time of
need Without you we shoud never Breed
90 Or any Comfort find
For if a Damsel’s blind or lame
Or Nature’s hand has crooked her frame
Or if she’s deaf or is wall eyed
Yet if her heart is well inclined
Some tender lover she shall find
That panteth for a Bride
The universal Poultice this
To cure whatever is amiss
In damsel or in Widow gay
100 It makes them smile it makes them skip
Like Birds just cured of the pip
They chirp & hop away
Then come ye Maidens come ye Swains
Come & be eased of all your pains
In Matrimony’s Golden cage –
I [None of] Go & be hanged said Scopprel how can you have the face to make game of Matrimony [What you skipping flea how dare ye? Ill dash you through your chair says the Cynic This Quid (cries out Miss Gittipin) always
110 spoils good company in this manner & its a shame]
Then Quid calld upon Obtuse Angle for a Song & he wiping his face & looking on
the corner of the cieling Sang
To be or not to be
Of great capacity
Like Sir Isaac Newton
Or Locke or Doctor South
Or Sherlock upon death
Id rather be Sutton
For he did build a house
120 For aged men & youth
With walls of brick & stone
He furnished it within
With whatever he could win
And all his own
He drew out of the Stocks
His money in a box
And sent his servant
To Green the Bricklayer
And to the Carpenter
130 He was so fervent
The chimneys were three score
The windows many more
And for convenience
He sinks & gutters made
And all the way he pavd
To hinder pestilence
Was not this a good man
Whose life was but a span
Whose name was Sutton
140 As Locke or Doctor South
Or Sherlock upon Death
Or Sir Isaac Newton
The Lawgiver was very attentive & begd to have it sung over again & again till the company were tired & insisted on the Lawgiver singing a song himself which he readily complied with
This city & this country has brought forth many mayors
To sit in state & give forth laws out of their old oak
chairs
With face as brown as any nut with drinking of strong ale
150 Good English hospitality O then it did not fail
With scarlet gowns & broad gold lace would make a
yeoman sweat
With stockings rolld above their knees & shoes as black
as jet
With eating beef & drinking beer O they were stout and
hale
Good English hospitality O then it did not fail
Thus sitting at the table wide the Mayor & Aldermen
Were fit to give law to the city each eat as much as ten
The hungry poor enterd the hall to eat good beef & ale
Good English hospitality O then it did not fail
Here they gave a shout & the company broke up
From CHAP 11
Upon a holy thursday their innocent faces clean
The children walking two & two in grey & blue & green
Grey headed beadles walkd before with wands as white
as snow
Till into the high dome of Pauls they like thames water
flow
O what a multitude they seemd, these flowers of