Inebriety and the Candidate

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Title: Inebriety and the Candidate
Author: George Crabbe
Release Date: February, 2004 [EBook #5181]
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0. START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, INEBRIETY
AND THE CANDIDATE ***
Transcribed by Mark Sherwood, e-mail
[email protected]

Inebriety and The Candidate
by George Crabbe
Contents:
Inebriety
The Candidate
An Introductory Address
To the Reader
To the Authors of the
Monthly Review
"INEBRIETY" {1}
The mighty spirit, and its power, which stains
The bloodless cheek,
and vivifies the brains,
I sing. Say, ye, its fiery vot'ries true,
The
jovial curate, and the shrill-tongued shrew;
Ye, in the floods of limpid
poison nurst,
Where bowl the second charms like bowl the first;

Say how, and why, the sparkling ill is shed,
The heart which hardens,
and which rules the head.
When winter stern his gloomy front uprears,
A sable void the barren
earth appears;
The meads no more their former verdure boast,
Fast
bound their streams, and all their beauty lost;
The herds, the flocks, in
icy garments mourn,
And wildly murmur for the spring's return;

From snow-topp'd hills the whirlwinds keenly blow,
Howl through
the woods, and pierce the vales below;
Through the sharp air a flaky
torrent flies,
Mocks the slow sight, and hides the gloomy skies;
The
fleecy clouds their chilly bosoms bare,
And shed their substance on
the floating air;
The floating air their downy substance glides

Through springing waters, and prevents their tides;
Seizes the rolling
waves, and, as a god,
Charms their swift race, and stops the refluent
flood;
The opening valves, which fill the venal road,
Then scarcely

urge along the sanguine flood;
The labouring pulse a slower motion
rules,
The tendons stiffen, and the spirit cools;
Each asks the aid of
Nature's sister, Art,
To cheer the senses, and to warm the heart.
The gentle fair on nervous tea relies,
Whilst gay good-nature sparkles
in her eyes;
An inoffensive scandal fluttering round,
Too rough to
tickle, and too light to wound;
Champagne the courtier drinks, the
spleen to chase,
The colonel burgundy, and port his grace;
Turtle
and 'rrac the city rulers charm,
Ale and content the labouring peasants
warm:
O'er the dull embers, happy Colin sits,
Colin, the prince of
joke, and rural wits;
Whilst the wind whistles through the hollow
panes,
He drinks, nor of the rude assault complains;
And tells the
tale, from sire to son retold,
Of spirits vanishing near hidden gold;

Of moon-clad imps that tremble by the dew,
Who skim the air, or
glide o'er waters blue:
The throng invisible that, doubtless, float
By
mouldering tombs, and o'er the stagnant meat:
Fays dimly glancing
on the russet plain,
And all the dreadful nothing of the green.
Peace
be to such, the happiest and the best,
Who with the forms of fancy
urge their jest;
Who wage no war with an avenger's rod,
Nor in the
pride of reason curse their God.
When in the vaulted arch Lucina gleams,
And gaily dances o'er the
azure streams;
On silent ether when a trembling sound
Reverberates,
and wildly floats around,
Breaking through trackless space upon the
ear,
Conclude the Bacchanalian rustic near:
O'er hills and vales the
jovial savage reels,
Fire in his head and frenzy at his heels;
From
paths direct the bending hero swerves,
And shapes his way in
ill-proportioned curves.
Now safe arrived, his sleeping rib he calls,

And madly thunders on the muddy walls;

The well-known sounds an
equal fury move,
For rage meets rage, as love enkindles love:
In
vain the waken'd infant's accents shrill,
The humble regions of the
cottage fill;
In vain the cricket chirps the mansion through,
'Tis war,
and blood, and battle must ensue.
As when, on humble stage, him

Satan hight
Defies the brazen hero to the fight:
From twanging
strokes what dire misfortunes rise,
What fate to maple arms and
glassen eyes!
Here lies a leg of elm, and there a stroke
From ashen
neck has whirl'd a head of oak.
So drops from either power, with
vengeance big,
A remnant night-cap and an old cut wig;
Titles
unmusical retorted round,
On either ear with leaden vengeance sound;

Till equal valour, equal wounds create,
And drowsy peace
concludes the fell