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AEROSTATIC ADVICE [[italic]]from[[/italic]] BEDLAM
[[italic]]to both[[/italic]] UNIVERSITIES. ^[[1. Dec. 1784]]
FOR shame, ye Oxonians! what, shall it be said,
That your paltry-cock mounted before ye!
Are ye then of such rapid ascent so afraid?
Are ye dead to ambition, and glory?
Has Oxford, no genius, to soaring inclin'd?
I wonder, your pride has not flung ye!
Since, bold, airy flights, have been, time out of mind,
Both famous, and frequent among ye.
Now the Poets of Grub-street outdo Isis' sons,
E'en the Blue-stocking club will surpass us:
The mount the Balloon--I advise for this once;
Ye may chance get a sight of Parnassus.
Has Cambridge no Pegasus ready to soar high?
If she had--she has none to sit thereon:
For the Gogmagog hills, are the scene of her glory;
On the hacks, of my friend* Jocky Baron.
Ye smug, catch-weight Divines, cas'd in leather so tight,
Quit the turf--nor heed your groom's laughter;
Tow'rds the standard of Heav'n, make a match to take flight;
Ye may ne'er be so near it hereafter.
Gray's fire, indeed, lately lit up the page;
Then to imitate him take the trouble;
What--have we a genius but once in an age?
Alas! Pegasus won't carry double.
Ah! Helicon's springs do not flow as before:
This our L--r--te, knows to his cost.
Read M_____, and H--yl--y, and five hundred more,
You'll begin to believe the spring lost.
A Balloon, like their Poems, is turgid I wean,
You may look long, and find nothing there:
In M----- you'll smell, it's not meant to be seen,
A great deal of inflammable air,
We Poets ourselves, so far like a Balloon,
What becomes of us no one can say;
We are worth very little--out of sight very soon,
And are only the sport of the day.
PHRENETICUS
[[italic]]* A Livery Stable keeper.[[/italic]]
[[end this poem]]
POETRY.
PROLOGUE
[[italic]]To the new Farce of[[/italic]] AEROSTATION, [[italic]]performed last Friday night for the first time at the Theatre-Royal, Covent-Garden.[[/italic]] ^[[1784]]
SPOKEN by MR. Wilson.
TO-NIGHT's Adventurer with awe looks round,
And views the perils which his bark surround;
Three years are past since on this coast he came,
Bound on a dang'rous voyage, in quest of fames.
Your smiles he'll deem propitious beams that rise,
Circling the star that lights his polar skies;
And near approaching that magnetic part,
He feels the needle trembling at his heart.
But of our bard enough perhaps I've said,
When greater cares are lab'ring at my head.
I make no doubt to entertain you soon
With a new theatre in a Stage Balloon;
No more in garret high shall poets sit,
With rival spiders spinning cobweb wit;
Like ancient Barons future bards shall fare;
In their own castles built up in the air;
Dull poets then behind a cloud shall stay,
Whilst fancy, darting to the source of day,
Bold as an eagle, her career shall run,
And with strong pinions fan the blazing sun.
But ere we raise our play-house in the skies,
As Wit's Prime Minister I'll raise supplies;
For, sad to tell! above, as here below,
'Tis only money makes the are to go;
Bubbles shall then be tax'd of every kind;
Why tax the light, and leave untax'd the wind?
First, for Pinetti's sake, of high renown,
Who'll steal the shirt off any man in town,
A heavy tax on common sense shall fall;
Nay, you may smile, but it affects you all;
Italian op'ras, like aliens, Ive devis'd
Shall pay a poll-tax to be nat'raliz'd.
Farce, dance, and pantomime, with sprites and dragons
Shall pay a carriage-tax of broad-wheel'd wagons;
And as for tragedy of modern date,
Let it contribute at Quack med'cine rate.
A tax too we enact new pieces pay,
Apollo's civil list expences to defray;
Living or dead, henceforward we decree,
Damn'd, or still-born, no author shall be free;
Genius shall pay for being born to fame,
And dullness for the burial of its name.
Thus, if our ways and means the state you find,
I hope these aids will meet the House's mind.
On you the stage rests all her rising fate,
You give our wit both currency and weight;
From hence like gold in circulation brought,
By all the world it eagerly is fought,
If critics come not on the mintage night,
To cap the sterling, and then call it [[tight ?]],
Assert our wishes, grant the meed we claim;
Praise that inspires, and smiles that guard our fame!
________________________
EPILOGUE [[italic]]to[[/italic]] DECEPTION,
[[italic]]Written for[[/italic]] Miss FARREN, [[italic]]by[[/italic]] E. TOPHAM, Esq.
AS drowsy sentries, whom no thanks reward,
To yawning comrades yield the nightly guard,
So one sad comedy relieves another,
And dullness kindly finds as dull a brother.
Condemn'd to wade thro' all the tiedium past,
I--your old epilogue--survive the last--
And here am left--poor pleader to atone
As well for other's errors--as my own.
For late you felt--nor long remov'd the time,
How soon from rhyme in prose--I pros'd in rhyme.
The metred muse----each passion shim'd so pat,
Sir tag'd out this, and Madam jingled that:
" 'Twas, pray Mr. what's your name, how do you do?
" Pretty well Sir, I thank you:---and pray how do you?
" A touch of your snuff-box----my charming [[italic]]Miss Fynch[[/italic]]!
" To be sure, Sir, I'm always your friend at a pinch."
And yet, seduc'd by Haymarket flirtation,
Methinks I owe my friends some reparation,
For have I not, with strange unbridled fury,
Storm'd the mock tragedy of antient Drury?
Laugh'd at her weeping heroes, boxing chiefs,
Her mournful pleasantry and joyous griefs,
Made Lords and Ladies all unpitied die,
Who wept, and fought, and bled--they knew not why?
Yes:---But unsullied by this casual stain,
Again shall rise the powers of Drury-lane;
Th' eternal handkerchief he hous'd hereafter,
And tragedy o more provoke your laughter.
But why thus dwell on sublunary things,
On paste-board scepters, and on playhouse Kings?
Fancy with airy flights my noddle crouds,
I'm like the nation---wholly in the clouds;
Nothing for them too high---for me too hardy---
[[penciled underline]]Give me a second trip with Sieur LUNARDI![[/underline]]
There mounting dauntless to the pale-faced moon,
Find out at last---that cats may die too soon;
Then spurn at dread of elemental wars,
To drink Madeira, and shake hands with stars,
Jostle the hawks and eagles as I go,
And leave the gaping "pigeons" far below,
---Below---where fatt'ning on Artillery fare,
Peers, Chemists, Aldermen, and Princes stare,
Such fare as makes all martial glory prouder,
---Store of stuff'd beef!---but not a grain of powder:
Soldiers ensur'd!---and did I wish for pelf,
I'd under-write the garrison myself.
O what a grand display such science yields,
Beaus from Pye-Corner---Belles from Spital-Fields!
Jews, dogs, and dust-carts nobly intervene,
And Ministers on scaffolds close the scene!
By puffs inflammable and favouring skies,
Say then, to-night shall [[italic]]our Balloon[[/italic]] arise?
Or, weight and ballast baffling each endeavor,
Shall it just curt'sey, and then sink for ever?
[[end this clipping]]
POETRY.
[[italic]]for the[[/italic]] General Advertiser.
The following VERSES were sent up with an
AIR-BALLOON. ^[[1784]]
A SIMILE.
MAN, since first his breath he drew,
Was always pleas'd with something new;
And every age sets up pretensions,
Above all others, for interventions'!
In our wise times, th' ingenious elf
Invents a fabric like himself;
For we, in Air-Balloons, may trace
Frail emblems of the human-race.
At first, the languid balls, with ease,
Are mov'd about just where you please;
But, when fermenting fires begin,
And the fierce spirit works within,
All sordid Natures they expel,
And soon th'important baubles swell;
Out spread their sides, and, full of soul,
They grow impatient of control;
Ambitious puffs! with empty slate,
You hurry on your dubious fate;
The cords are cut; and, freedom found,
You fearless quit the steady ground;
And give th' uncertain winds their prey,
That bears you, as they lift, away.
Some, feeble and but little worth,
Can scarcely quit the fertile earth;
Some, struggling through the denser air,
Often are bandied here and there,
Before the mountain they can crown,
By many a side-wind beaten down;
Others their gilded forms display,
And smoothly win their easy way;
Buoyant, their spirits lift them high,
And urge them to a purer sky;
And now, th' ethereal regions won,
The fabrics float sublimely on:
Still insecure! for, even here,
Storms often meet their mid career,
Soon overcome their feeble might,
And dash them from their towering height.
Others, when dreary Night hath spread
Her dusky mantle over head,
In the dark sky their stations fix,
And seem among the stars to mix;
there, while th' unwonted blaze they show,
Amazement fills the croud below!
Vain forms! that wonder can [[cispense ?]],
How transient is your consequence!
Tho' favouring gales blow smooth and strong,
To bear your radiant forms along;
Tho' mortals, as they view from far,
Fancy they see a blazing star;
Soon shall your ardent spirits sail,
And languor o'er your frames prevail,
Which, tho' escap'd the storm and blast,
Down to the earth shall sink at last.
Where is the Wight, who does not see
How aptly sits the Simile?
Mortals to Air-Balloons ally'd,
Move not, at first, without a guide;
Hapless through years they live, and still
Are subject to another's wil;
We mould their pliant forms with ease,
And make them take what road we please:
But when, by working passions press'd,
When wild Ambition swells the breast,
The reins of prudence they disdain,
And struggle with the galling chain;
'Till, free, their growing strength they try,
Out-spread the wings of Liberty,
And every feather is unfurl'd,
To bear them on a stormy world.
And now, the wish'd-for freedom got,
Ah! how uncertain is your log!
Feeble, the force that some will trust,
Scarce lifts them from their kindred dust;
Awhile they flutter to aspire,
Their wings still laboring in the mire:
Others with bolder spirits swell'd,
Thro' all obstructions are impell'd;
Tho' clouds upon their efforts frown,
And side-blows often beat them down,
Undaunted they pursue their way,
And struggle to a brighter day:
Others, in gilded plumage dress'd,
With high and potent spirits blessed,
Rush forward in a bold career,
And try to gain the loftiest sphere;
Success attends their daring flight,
And soon they reach Ambition's height;
Conspicuous in the glare of day,
Their gorgeous forms they wide display;
A purer air they seem to breathe,
And scorn the wondering world ben
[[clipping torn at corner]]
[[end this clipping]]
POETRY.
PITT's BALLOON:
A PARODY. ^[[1784]]
AS [[italic]]Lucifer[[/italic]] no long time since
Was sporting in the air,
And that he's there a sov'reign Prince
Th' Apostle does [[declare ?]];
A carriage he, serial, met,
With passengers a croud:
Huggle, duggle, ha, ha, ha!
The Devil laugh'd aloud!
Halloo, quoth [[italic]]Belzibub[[/italic]], I crave
Your names, who boldly dare
The [[italic]]Terra firma[[/italic]] thus to leave,
And fly in open air!
I'm sure the Devil bid ye all
Attempt this wicked cruise:
Huggle, duggle, ha, ha, ha!
Now pay my airy dues!
A heavy tax on each balloon
With passengers I've laid;
That flying dares to scale the moon,
And these my realms invade!
Altho' P----gative does claim
With me, of Hell a share;
Huggle, duggle, ha, ha, ha!
Ye: I'm sole monarch here!
May't please your Devilship, quoth [[italic]]Pitt[[/italic]],
I, and my colleagues here,
Beg that this once you will permit
Our-journey thro' the air!
We're al sprung from behind the Th---ns
A most obsequiaus croud;
Huggle, duggle, ha, ha, ha!
The Devil laugh'd aloud!
Said [[italic]]Satan[[/italic]], well, as you're a friend;
And [[italic]]T---ple[[/italic] too is here,
You in the House I'll still attend
Altho' I don't appear:
I, at your elbows always stood,
And whisper'd what to say;
Huggle, duggle, ha, ha, ha!
And well you did obey!
And tho' your half-fledg'd pinions sail,
Your Tory schemes pursue;
Continue still at Fox to rail,
Ad his adherents too;
By secret influence undermine
The freedom of the land!
Huggle, duggle, ha, ha, ha!
For that is my command!
Despising all that honest tongues
In either House can say,
There's ONE, to whom high pow'r belongs,
Shall point you out the way;
He'll find you air inflammable,
A fall you need not fear;
Huggle, duggle, ha, ha, ha!
'Twill serve you half the year!
I, ***** himself, the plot make,
And [[italic]]Tb-----w[[/italic]] shall assist,
And [[italic]]R------d's[[/italic]] [[Duke ?]] a part shall take;
And [[italic]]S----ncy[[/italic]] lend a fist;
And squinting [[italic]]Jack[[/italic]] shall hold the string,
for hemp, him well becomes;
Huggle, duggle, ha, ha, ha!
Now sound your rattling drums!
But angry [[italic]]Jove[[/italic]] sent [[italic]]Mercury[[/italic]]
To stop this proud balloon;
"By Styx, that beardless boy, said he,
"Aspires to rale the Moon!
"Tell them that [[italic]]Fox[[/italic]] and [[italic]]Portland[[/italic]] are
"The fav'rites here above:
"And Freedom's firm built fabric, far
"Beyond their strength to move!"
"That [[italic]]Pitt[[/italic]] has made a pit, that hath
"Their own destruction wrought,
"And brought upon them all the wrath
"That they for others fought:"
This [[laid ?]], then stick your winged staff
Into their airy ball---
Then huggle, duggle, ha, ha, ha!
The world shall see them fall!
But should sly [[italic]]Merc'ry[[/italic]] chance to catch
Them 'ere they reach the Moon;
[[italic]][[Jove ?]][[/italic]]'s dreaded orders to dispatch,
And stab their Air Balloon;
Old [[italic]]Lucifer[[/italic]] determines, yet
To hold superior sway,
He swears he'll catch them in his net,
And carry them away!
[[end this clipping]]
