A REMONSTRANCE by JOHN GERRARD

WHAT'S he that, in yon gilded coach elate,
Lolls at his ease and swells with empty state;
Whose ruffled brow and supercilious eye
Loured with disdain to see me trudging by,
In homely weeds, with heat and labour faint,
A drudge by birth and pilgrim by restraint;
What's he whom station common grace denies,
Too fine for earth, too haughty for the skies?
Speak, recollection, from what goddess-dame
This great contractor of his eyelids came.
Where yonder valley, flushed with pastures green,
Displays its worth, as suing to be seen;
Where lofty turrets for mementoes rise
And boast their infamy to blushing skies;
There dwelt a clown some sixty years ago,
An honest wight, as churls and niggards go.
An humble villa then the mansion stood,
Hid in an old, inhospitable wood,
Beneath whose roof a small partition rose
To screen the cattle's from their lord's repose.
A surly mastiff welcomed from the door
The smooth town-visitor and crying poor.
Free to collect, yet frugal to disburse,
He knew each virtue of a close-mouthed purse;
At fairs and markets versed as well as any
To stand three hours contending for a penny;
Would pay his rates, and but a little mumble
At the necessitous, and swear and grumble;
When sure to win would risk some trifling bet,
And, threatened with the law, discharge a debt.
His parish church would constantly frequent,
To dun his tenants in the yard for rent,
And often in the porch, by dint of thought,
Calves, bullocks, sheep and pigs full cheap hath bought;
For well he knew, when men were preached awake,
Their conscience at the tend'rest time to take.
Some other virtues had—to follow gain
By each shrewd purpose of a fertile brain;
To treat no friend within his sober hall,
And shut the door of pity upon all;
His griping heart each solace to deny,
And in his bargains thought it meet to lie.
Such pious tenets formed his saving creed,
And other faith was heresy indeed.
A perfect proselyte his wife—she knew
How much the farthing as the pound was due.
Corn, butter, bacon, eggs, each coming day,
Were cash to workmen, to the poor were pay.
Great wit she had beyond each sage of old,
And every moveable could turn to gold.
She, much unlike your modern wives, would scorn
To keep within-doors, save at night and morn;
Her ready hand could sow the yearly field,
Could reap, could mow and well the flail could wield;
At morn the dairy was her soft pursuit,
Then to lade dung with Ralph and keep him to't;
No costly clothes she wore, no marks of pride,
No printed gown or mantle Tyrrhene-dyed,
But a firm jacket of her own-spun grey
And leathern bodice were her trim array.
Full many a year she earned in sweat of brow
Great wealth, by dairy, dung-cart, poor and plough;
While he at market and at fair would vend
Her num'rous wares, and none to better end.
At length, oppressed with zeal too great to tell,
At Mammon's shrine the greedy matron fell!
One harvest day, with griping thoughts o'erborne,
As from the poor she raked the straggled corn,
Three weighty ears escaped, which when she spied
In want's pale hand, she sickened, dropped and died!
Her loss, for future hoards, her goodman rues,
And full two thousand lower sunk his views.
No thought of past acquirements gave relief;
At last he sold her clothes, and stopped his grief.
Still Fortune smiled upon his growing pelf,
And to fourscore she lent him to himself;
Then the green hillock closely wrapped him o'er,
And to dirt gave him—dirt so loved before.
His want of issue soon the law repairs,
Skilful as footmen at creating heirs.
A wealthy brother of their rightful tribe
Produced his claim—and sealed it with a bribe;
A potent bribe, not such as barely draws
A needy juryman from obvious laws,
But such as in the senate once inclined
Old patriot Turbulo to change his mind.
And now the mansion soars, of costly stone;
The hedges fall, the woods of ages grown;
The spacious park its naked visage shows,
And all Arabia in the garden blows;
Walks, fountains, statues from each point are seen,
And heroes, puppies, peacocks shaped in green.
But low ambition will in grandeur thrive,
And thirst for more an affluent change survive.
Patriot and senator at once he's grown,
To raise his country's fortune in his own.
'Gainst secret influence in the House he roars,
And cries down pensions in the gross by scores.
He knows 'promotion comes not west nor south',
And gapes for @3Northern@1 dust to stop his mouth.
Place, title, pension now his tongue forsake,
He kindly on himself these loads will take;
Will ease his country of each root of evil,
And dare to vault like Curtius to the devil.
So great a favour by the parent done
Ensured the same reward for this his son.
This his great son! decked with dishonour's plumes,
Who in one infamy his life consumes,
Who crowds his shield with arms unknown to fame,
And, copying others' greatness, boasts his shame.
Know, traitor, that I prize, with thanks to fate,
Rough honesty before thy painted state,
Plain virtue, which shall one day vice outshine,
And truth in rags a diamond from the mine.

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