The jar of men and women, girls and boys, And the huge Babel’s own dull whirring, grinding noise. My care was mark’d, and I had soon in charge Important matters, and my pay was large. I at my fortune marvell’d; it was strange, And so the outward and the inward change, Till to the Power who “gives and takes away” I turn’d in praise, and taught my soul to pray. Another came! “I come,” he said, “to show, 180 Your unknown Friend—have you a wish to know?” Much I desired, and forth we rode, and found My Uncle dying, but his judgment sound. The good old man, whom I abused, had been The guardian power, directing but unseen; And thus the wild but grateful boy he led To take new motives at his dying bed. The rest you judge—I now have all I need— And now the tale you promised!—Come, proceed. * * * * * _P._ ’Tis due, I own, but yet in mercy spare! 190} Alas! no Uncle was my guide—my care } Was all my own; no guardian took a share. } I, like Columbus, for a world unknown— ’Twas no great effort—sacrificed my own— My own sad world, where I had never seen The earth productive, or the sky serene. But this is past—and I at length am come To see what changes have been wrought at home; Happy in this, that I can set me down At worst a stranger in my native town. 200 _F._ Then be it so! but mean you not to show How time has pass’d? for we expect to know; And, if you tell not, know you we shall trace Your movements for ourselves from place to place! Your wants, your wishes, all you’ve sought or seen, Shall be the food for our remark and spleen. So, warn’d in time, the real page unfold, And let the Truth, before the Lie, be told. _P._ This might be done; but wonders I have none; All my adventures are of Self alone. 210 _F._ What then? I grant you, if your way was clear, All smooth and right—we’ve no desire to hear; But, if you’ve lewd and wicked things to tell, } Low passions, cruel deeds, nay crimes—’tis well: } Who would not listen?—— } _P._ Hark! I hear the bell. } It calls to dinner with inviting sound, For now we know where dinners may be found, And can behold and share the glad repast, Without a dread that we behold our last. _F._ Come then, shy friend, let doleful subjects cease, 220 And thank our God that we can dine in peace. MISCELLANEOUS VERSES (1780—1829) PREVIOUSLY PRINTED AND NOW FIRST ARRANGED IN CHRONOLOGICAL SEQUENCE. POETICAL EPISTLES. [April, 1780.] (1.) FROM THE DEVIL. AN EPISTLE GENERAL. (2.) FROM THE AUTHOR. _An Introduction to the former of these, by the learned Martinus Scriblerus._