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Thrusting, toiling, wailing, moiling,
Frowning, preaching—such a riot!
Cheating his own heart of quiet.
Dinners convivial and political —
Breakfasts professional and critical ;
That one would furnish forth ten dinners,
Should make some losers, and some winners ;
At conversazioni, balls,
Conventicles, and drawing-rooms;
Churches, masquerades, and tombs.
All are damnable and damned;
By none other are they damned.
XVI. 'Tis a lie to say
They are mines of poisonous mineral.
XVII. Statesmen damn themselves to be
Cursed; and lawyers damn their souls
To the auction of a fee;
God's sweet love in burning coals:
The rich are damned, beyond all cure,
To taunt and starve and trample on The weak and wretched; and the poor Damn their broken hearts to endure
Stripe on stripe with groan on groan :
Sometimes the poor are damned indeed
To take—not means for being blessedBut Cobbett's snuff, revenge; that weed From which the worms that it doth feed
Squeeze less than they before possessed :
Damned—but God alone knows why-
In which faith they live and die.
Thus, -as, in a town plague-stricken,
Each man (be he sound or no)
None knows a pigeon from a crow, —
All are damned— They breathe an air,
Thick, infected, joy-dispelling; Each pursues what seems most fair, Mining like moles through mind, and there Scoop palace-caverns vast, where Care
In throned state is ever dwelling.
Lo, Peter in Hell's Grosvenor Square,
A footman in the Devil's service! And the misjudging world would swear That every man in service there
To virtue would prefer vice.
What Peter was before damnation.
Suits with their genuine station.
All things that Peter saw and felt
Had a peculiar aspect to him;
Like cloud to cloud, into him.
And so, the outward world uniting
To that within him, he became
Were moulded in a different frame.
And he scored them, and they scorned him:
And he scorned all they did; and they
Drinking, lying, swearing, play.
His virtue, like our own, was built
To bully out another's guilt.
At once circumference and centre
Something did ever enter.
He had as much imagination
As a pint-pot;-he never could
Than that wherein he stood.
And new-created all he saw
Them by a master-spirit's law.
An apprehension clear, intense,
Wakening a sort of thought in sense.
To be a kind of moral eunuch:
The closest all-concealing tunic.
She laughed the while with an arch smile,
And kissed him with a sister's kiss,
Tempt not again my deepest bliss.
“ 'Tis you are cold ; for I, not coy,
Yield love for love, frank, warm, and true;
And Burns, a Scottish peasant boy-
More, learned friend, than you.
XIV. “ Bocca baciata non perde ventura,
Anzi rinnuova come fa la luna : So thought Boccaccio, whose sweet words might cure a Male prude, like you, from what you now endure, a
Low-tide in soul, like a stagnant laguna.”
Then Peter rubbed his eyes severe,
And smoothed his spacious forehead down
And in his dream sate down.
A leaden-witted thief-just huddled
With mind and heart and fancy muddled.
He was that heavy dull cold thing
The Spirit of Evil well may be :
And calls lust “luxury."
Round whom collect, at a fixed era,
And best East Indian madeira.
It was his fancy to invite
Men of science, wit, and learning,
Had set those spirits burning.