Part 8 (1/2)

ARCHITECTURAL ATOMS--TRANSLATED BY DR. B. {76b} {99}

Lege, d.i.c.k, Lege!--JOSEPH ANDREWS.

To be recited by the Translator's Son.

Away, fond dupes! who, smit with sacred lore, Mosaic dreams in Genesis explore, Doat with Copernicus, or darkling stray With Newton, Ptolemy, or Tycho Brahe!

To you I sing not, for I sing of truth, Primeval systems, and creation's youth; Such as of old, with magic wisdom fraught, Inspired LUCRETIUS to the Latians taught.

I sing how casual bricks, in airy climb, Encounter'd casual cow-hair, casual lime; How rafters, borne through wondering clouds elate, Kiss'd in their slope blue elemental slate, Clasp'd solid beams in chance-directed fury, And gave to birth our renovated Drury.

Thee, son of Jove! whose sceptre was confess'd, Where fair AEolia springs from Tethys' breast; Thence on Olympus, 'mid celestials placed, G.o.d OF THE WINDS, and Ether's boundless waste - Thee I invoke! Oh PUFF my bold design, Prompt the bright thought, and swell th' harmonious line Uphold my pinions, and my verse inspire With Winsor's {65} patent gas, or wind of fire, In whose pure blaze thy embryo form enroll'd, The dark enlightens, and enchafes the cold.

But, while I court thy gifts, be mine to shun The deprecated prize Ulysses won; Who, sailing homeward from thy breezy sh.o.r.e, The prison'd winds in skins of parchment bore.

Speeds the fleet bark till o'er the billowy green The azure heights of Ithaca are seen; But while with favouring gales her way she wins, His curious comrades ope the mystic skins; When, lo! the rescued winds, with boisterous sweep, Roar to the clouds and lash the rocking deep; Heaves the smote vessel in the howling blast, Splits the stretch'd sail, and cracks the tottering mast.

Launch'd on a plank, the buoyant hero rides Where ebon Afric stems the sable tides, While his duck'd comrades o'er the ocean fly, And sleep not in the whole skins they untie.

So, when to raise the wind some lawyer tries, Mysterious skins of parchment meet our eyes; On speeds the smiling suit--”Pleas of our Lord The King” s.h.i.+ne sable on the wide record; Nods the prunella'd bar, attorneys smile, And syren jurors flatter to beguile; Till stript--nonsuited--he is doom'd to toss In legal s.h.i.+pwreck and redeemless loss!

Lucky if, like Ulysses, he can keep His head above the waters of the deep.

AEolian monarch! Emperor of Puffs!

We modern sailors dread not thy rebuffs; See to thy golden sh.o.r.e promiscuous come Quacks for the lame, the blind, the deaf, the dumb; Fools are their bankers--a prolific line, And every mortal malady's a mine.

Each sly Sangrado, with his poisonous pill, Flies to the printer's devil with his bill, Whose Midas touch can gild his a.s.s's ears, And load a knave with folly's rich arrears.

And lo! a second miracle is thine, For sloe-juice water stands transformed to wine.

Where Day and Martin's patent blacking roll'd, Burst from the vase Pactolian streams of gold; Laugh the sly wizards, glorying in their stealth, Quit the black art, and loll in lazy wealth.

See Britain's Algerines, the lottery fry, Win annual tribute by the annual lie!

Aided by thee--but whither do I stray? - Court, city, borough, own thy sovereign sway; An age of puffs an age of gold succeeds, And windy bubbles are the sp.a.w.n it breeds.

If such thy power, O hear the Muse's prayer!

Swell thy loud lungs and wave thy wings of air; Spread, viewless giant, all thy arms of mist Like windmill-sails to bring the poet grist; As erst thy roaring son, with eddying gale, Whirl'd Orithyia from her native vale - So, while Lucretian wonders I rehea.r.s.e, Augusta's sons shall patronise my verse.

I sing of ATOMS, whose creative brain, With eddying impulse, built new Drury Lane; Not to the labours of subservient man, To no young Wyatt appertains the plan - We mortals stalk, like horses in a mill, Impa.s.sive media of atomic will; Ye stare! then Truth's broad talisman discern - 'Tis demonstration speaks--attend, and learn!

From floating elements in chaos hurl'd, Self-form'd of atoms, sprang the infant world: No great FIRST CAUSE inspired the happy plot, But all was matter--and no matter what.

Atoms, attracted by some law occult, Settling in spheres, the globe was the result; Pure child of CHANCE, which still directs the ball, As rotatory atoms rise or fall.

In ether launch'd, the peopled bubble floats, A ma.s.s of particles and confluent motes, So nicely poised, that if one atom flings Its weight away, aloft the planet springs, And wings its course through realms of boundless s.p.a.ce.

Outstripping comets in eccentric race Add but one atom more, it sinks outright Down to the realms of Tartarus and night.

What waters melt or scorching fires consume, In different forms their being re-a.s.sume: Hence can no change arise, except in name, For weight and substance ever are the same.

Thus with the flames that from old Drury rise Its elements primeval sought the skies; There pendulous to wait the happy hour When new attractions should restore their power: So, in this procreant theatre elate, Echoes unborn their future life await; Here embryo sounds in ether lie conceal'd, Like words in northern atmosphere congeal'd.

Here many a foetus laugh and half encore Clings to the roof, or creeps along the floor; By puffs concipient some in ether flit, And soar in bravos from the thundering pit; Some forth on ticket-nights {66} from tradesmen break, To mar the actor they design to make; While some this mortal life abortive miss, Crush'd by a groan, or strangled by a hiss.

So, when ”Dog's-meat” re-echoes through the streets, Rush sympathetic dogs from their retreats, Beam with bright blaze their supplicating eyes, Sink their hind-legs, ascend their joyful cries; Each, wild with hope, and maddening to prevail, Points the pleased ear, and wags the expectant tail.