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That waste our vitals. Peculation, sale
Of honour, perjury, corruption, frauds
By forgery, by subterfuge of law,

By tricks and lies, as num'rous and as keen
As the necessities their authors feel;
Then cast them, closely bundled, ev'ry brat
At the right door. Profusion is its sire.

Profusion unrestrain'd, with all that's base
In character, has litter'd all the land,
And bred within the mem'ry of no few
A priesthood such as Baal's was of old,
A people such as never was till now.
It is a hungry vice:-it eats up all
That gives society its beauty, strength,
Convenience, and security, and use;

Makes men mere vermin, worthy to be trapp'd
And gibbeted, as fast as catchpole claws
Can seize the slipp'ry prey; unties the knot
Of union, and converts the sacred band
That holds mankind together to a scourge.
Profusion, deluging a state with lusts
Of grossest nature and of worst effects,
Prepares it for its ruin; hardens, blinds,
And warps the consciences of public men
Till they can laugh at virtue; mock the fools
That trust them; and, in th' end, disclose a face
That would have shock'd credulity herself,
Unmask'd, vouchsafing this their sole excuse;-
Since all alike are selfish, why not they?
This does Profusion, and th' accursed cause
Of such deep mischief has itself a cause.

In colleges and halls, in ancient days,
When learning, virtue, piety, and truth
Were precious, and inculcated with care,
There dwelt a sage call'd Discipline. His head,
Not yet by time completely silver'd o'er,
Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth,
But strong for service still, and unimpair'd.
His eye was meek and gentle, and a smile
Play'd on his lips, and in his speech was heard
Paternal sweetness, dignity, and love.
The occupation dearest to his heart

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Was to encourage goodness. He would stroke
The head of modest and ingenuous worth,

That blush'd at its own praise, and press the youth
Close to his side that pleased him. Learning grew
Beneath his care, a thriving, vig'rous plant;
The mind was well inform'd, the passions held
Subordinate, and diligence was choice.

If e'er it chanced, as sometimes chance it must,
That one among so many overleap'd
The limits of control, his gentle eye
Grew stern, and darted a severe rebuke;
His frown was full of terror, and his voice
Shook the delinquent with such fits of awe
As left him not, till penitence had won

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Lost favour back again, and closed the breach.
But Discipline, a faithful servant long,

Declined at length into the vale of years;

A palsy struck his arm, his sparkling eye

Was quench'd in rheums of age, his voice unstrung
Grew tremulous, and moved derision more
Than rev'rence in perverse, rebellious youth.
So colleges and halls neglected much

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Their good old friend, and Discipline at length,

O'erlook'd and unemploy'd, fell sick and died.
Then study languish'd, emulation slept,

And virtue fled. The schools became a scene
Of solemn farce, where ignorance in stilts,

His cap

well lined with logic not his own,

With parrot tongue performed the scholar's part,
Proceeding soon a graduated dunce.

Then compromise had place, and scrutiny

Became stone-blind, precedence went in truck,
And he was competent whose purse was so.
A dissolution of all bonds ensued,

The curbs invented for the mulish mouth

Of headstrong youth were broken; bars and bolts
Grew rusty by disuse, and massy gates

Forgot their office, op'ning with a touch;

Till gowns at length are found mere masquerade;
The tassell'd cap and the spruce band a jest,
A mock'ry of the world.

What need of these

For gamesters, jockeys, brothellers impure,
Spendthrifts and booted sportsmen, oft'ner seen

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With belted waist, and pointers at their heels,
Than in the bounds of duty? What was learn'd,
If aught was learn'd in childhood, is forgot,
And such expense, as pinches parents blue,
And mortifies the lib'ral hand of love,
Is squander'd in pursuit of idle sports
And vicious pleasures; buys the boy a name
That sits a stigma on his father's house,
And cleaves through life inseparably close
To him that wears it. What can after-games
Of riper joys, and commerce with the world,
The lewd vain world that must receive him soon,
Add to such erudition thus acquired,

Where science and where virtue are profess'd?
They may confirm his habits, rivet fast
His folly, but to spoil him is a task
That bids defiance to th' united pow'rs
Of fashion, dissipation, taverns, stews.

Now, blame we most the nurselings or the nurse?
The children crook'd and twisted and deform'd,
Through want of care, or her whose winking eye
And slumb'ring oscitancy mars the brood?
The nurse no doubt. Regardless of her charge
She needs herself correction; needs to learn
That it is dang'rous sporting with the world,
With things so sacred as a nation's trust;
The nurture of her youth, her dearest pledge.

All are not such. I had a brother once-
Peace to the mem'ry of a man of worth,
A man of letters and of manners too—
Of manners sweet as virtue always wears,
When gay good nature dresses her in smiles.
He graced a college, in which order yet
Was sacred, and was honour'd, loved, and wept,
By more than one, themselves conspicuous there.
Some minds are temper'd happily, and mixt
With such ingredients of good sense and taste
Of what is excellent in man, they thirst
With such a zeal to be what they approve,
That no restraints can circumscribe them more

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Than they themselves by choice, for wisdom's sake,
Nor can example hurt them. What they see

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Of vice in others but enhancing more
The charms of virtue in their just esteem.
If such escape contagion, and emerge
Pure, from so foul a pool, to shine abroad,
And give the world their talents and themselves,
Small thanks to those whose negligence or sloth
Exposed their inexperience to the snare,
And left them to an undirected choice.

See then! the quiver broken and decay'd,
In which are kept our arrows. Rusting there
In wild disorder and unfit for use,

What wonder if discharged into the world
They shame their shooters with a random flight,
Their points obtuse, and feathers drunk with wine.
Well may the church wage unsuccessful war
With such artill❜ry arm'd. Vice parries wide
Th' undreaded volley with a sword of straw,
And stands an impudent and fearless mark.

Have we not track'd the felon home, and found
His birthplace and his dam? The country mourns-
Mourns, because ev'ry plague that can infest
Society, and that saps and worms the base
Of th' edifice that Policy has raised,

Swarms in all quarters; meets the eye, the ear,
And suffocates the breath at ev'ry turn.
Profusion breeds them. And the cause itself
Of that calamitous mischief has been found,
Found too where most offensive, in the skirts
Of the robed pedagogue! Else, let th' arraign'd
Stand up unconscious and refute the charge.
So, when the Jewish Leader stretch'd his arm
And waved his rod divine, a race obscene,
Spawn'd in the muddy beds of Nile, came forth
Polluting Egypt. Gardens, fields, and plains
Were cover'd with the pest. The streets were fill'd;
The croaking nuisance lurk'd in ev'ry nook,
Nor palaces nor even chambers 'scaped,
And the land stank, so num'rous was the fry.

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NOTES

BOOK I.-THE SOFA.

THE title of the Sofa has been already explained in the Life. We may here add the Author's Introduction:—

"The history of the following production is briefly this :—A lady, fond of blank verse, demanded a poem of that kind from the author, and gave him the SOFA for a subject. He obeyed; and having much leisure, connected another subject with it; and pursuing the train of thought to which his situation and turn of mind led him, brought forth, at length, instead of the trifle which he at first intended, a serious affair—a Volume.”

He thus defends the title against Newton's criticism (Letter 184)

:

"As to the title, I take it to be the best that is to be had. It is not possible that a book including such a variety of subjects, and in which no particular one is predominant, should find a title adapted to them all. In such a case, it seemed almost necessary to accommodate the name to the incident that gave birth to the poem; nor does it appear to me that because I performed more than my task, therefore the Task is not a suitable title. A house would still be a house, though the builder of it should make it ten times as big as he at first intended. I might, indeed, following the example of the Sunday newspaper, call it the Olio; but Ĩ should do myself wrong; for though it have much variety, it has, I trust, no confusion."

As to the scope and purpose of the poem, we cannot do better than quote his own words (Letter 181) :—

"My principal purpose is to allure the reader, by character, by scenery, by imagery, and such poetical embellishments, to the reading of what may profit him. Subordinately to this, to combat that predilection in favour of a metropolis that beggars and exhausts the country by evacuating it of all its principal inhabitants; and collaterally, and as far as is consistent with this double intention, to have a stroke at vice, vanity, and folly, wherever I find them. I have not spared the universities.

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On the style and plan of the poem, he writes to the Rev. W. Unwin (Letter 175):

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