  Feb. 26, 1798. The specimen of the poem on the “Progress of Man,” with which we favoured our Readers in our last Number, has occasioned a variety of letters, which we confess have not a little surprised us, from the unfounded, and even contradictory charges they contain. In one, we are accused of Malevolence, in bringing back to notice a work that had been quietly consigned to oblivion;—in another, of Plagiarism, in copying its most beautiful passages;—in a third, of Vanity, in striving to imitate what was in itself inimitable, &c., &c. But why this alarm? has the author of the “Progress of Civil Society” an exclusive patent for fabricating Didactic poems? or can we not write against Order and Government without incurring the guilt of Imitation? We trust we were not so ignorant of the nature of a didactic poem (so called from didaskein, to teach, and poema, a poem; because it teaches nothing, and is not poetical) even before the “Progress of Civil Society” appeared, but that we were capable of such an undertaking. We shall only say further, that we do not intend to proceed regularly with our Poem; but having the remaining thirty-nine Cantos by us, shall content ourselves with giving, from time to time, such extracts as may happen to suit our purpose. The following passage, which, as the reader will see by turning to the Contents prefixed to the head of the Poem, is part of the First Canto, contains so happy a PROGRESS OF MAN.Lo! the rude savage, free from civil strife, Keeps the smooth tenour of his guiltless life; Restrain’d by none, save Nature’s lenient laws, Quaffs the clear stream, and feeds on hips and haws. Light to his daily sports behold him rise! 65 The bloodless banquet health and strength supplies. Bloodless not long—one morn he haps to stray Through the lone wood—and close beside the way Sees the gaunt tiger tear his trembling prey; Beneath whose gory fangs a leveret bleeds, 70 Or pig—such pig as fertile China breeds. Struck with the sight, the wondering savage stands, Rolls his broad eyes, and clasps his lifted hands! Then restless roams—and loaths his wonted food; Shuns the salubrious stream, and thirsts for blood. 75 By thought matured, and quicken’d by desire, From the tough yew a slender branch he tears, With self-taught skill the twisted grass Th’ unfashioned bow, with labouring efforts bends 80 In circling form, and joins th’ unwilling ends. Next some tall reed he seeks—with sharp-edg’d stone Shapes the fell dart, and points with whiten’d bone. Then forth he fares. Around in careless play, Kids, pigs, and lambkins unsuspecting stray; 85 With grim delight he views the sportive band, Intent on blood, and lifts his murderous hand. Twangs the bent bow—resounds the fateful dart, Swift-wing’d, and trembles in a porker’s heart. Ah, hapless porker! what can now avail 90 Thy back’s stiff bristles, or thy curly tail? Ah! what avail those eyes so small and round, Long pendent ears, and snout that loves the ground? Not unreveng’d thou diest!—in after times From thy spilt blood shall spring unnumber’d crimes. 95 Soon shall the slaught’rous arms that wrought thy woe, Improved by malice, deal a deadlier blow; And ’gainst his fellow man the vengeful weapon aim. As love, as gold, as jealousy inspires, 100 As wrathful hate, or wild ambition fires, Urged by the statesman’s craft, the tyrant’s rage, Embattled nations endless wars shall wage, Vast seas of blood the ravaged field shall stain, And millions perish—that a king may reign! 105 For blood once shed, new wants and wishes rise; Each rising want invention quick supplies. To roast his victuals is man’s next desire, So two dry sticks he rubs, and lights a fire. Hail fire, &c. &c. |
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