Matthew Green(1696–1737)

From The Spleen

An Epistle to Mr. CuthbertJackson

This motley piece to you I send,

W h o always were a faithful friend;

W h o , if disputes should happen hence,

Can best explain the author's sense;

And, anxious for the public weal,

Do, what I sing, so often feel.2

T h e want of m e t h o d pray excuse,

Allowing for a vapored Muse;3

Nor to a narrow path confined,

H e d g e in by rules a roving mind.

T h e child is genuine, you may trace

Throughout the sire's transmitted 0 face.inherited

N o t h i n g is stolen: my Muse, though mean,lowly, poor

Draws from the spring she finds within;

Nor vainly buys what Gildon4 sells,in vain

Poetic buckets for dry wells.

School-helps I want,5 to climb on high,

W h e r e all the ancient treasures lie,

And there u n s e e n c o m m i t a theft

On wealth in Greek exchequers 0 left.treasuries

T h e n where from w h o m ? what can I steal,

W h o only with the moderns deal

This were attempting to put on

Raiment from naked bodies won:6

They safely sing before a thief,

They cannot give w h o want relief;

S o m e few excepted, n a m e s well known,

And justly laureled7 with renown,

W h o s e stamp of genius marks their ware,

And theft detects: of theft beware;

From More so lashed,8 example fit,

S h u n petty larceny in wit.

First know, my friend, I do not m e a n

To write a treatise on the spleen;

Nor to prescribe w h e n nerves convulse;

Nor m e n d th' alarum watch, your pulse.

If I am right, your question lay,

W h a t course I take to drive away

T h e day-mare9 Spleen, by w h o s e false pleas

M e n prove mere suicides in ease;1

And how I do myself demean 0manage

In stormy world to live serene.

W h e n by its magic lantern2 Spleen

W i t h frightful figures spreads life's scene,

job as a clerk in a Custom House (the office Howard's epic poem British Princes (1669): "A

responsible for levying taxes on imported and painted vest Prince Vortiger had on, / Which from

exported goods) in London.a naked Pict his grandsire won."

And threat'ning prospects 0 urged my fears,expectations

A stranger to the luck of heirs;3

Reason, some quiet to restore,

S h o w e d part was substance, shadow more;

W i t h Spleen's dead weight though heavy grown,

In life's rough tide I sunk not down,

But swam, 'till Fortune threw a rope,

Buoyant on bladders4 fill'd with hope.

I always c h o o s e the plainest food

To mend viscidity 0 of blood.glutinousness

Hail! water-gruel, healing power,thin porridge

Of easy access to the poor;

Thy help love's confessors implore,

And doctors secretly adore;

To thee, I fly, by thee dilute—

Through veins my blood doth quicker shoot,5

And by swift current throws off clean

Prolific particles of Spleen.

I never sick by drinking grow,

N o r keep myself a cup too low,sad, gloomy

And seldom Cloe's lodgings haunt,

Thrifty of spirits, w h i c h I want.6

Hunting I reckon very good

To brace the nerves, and stir the blood:

But after no field-honors itch,honors -won in the hunt

Achieved by leaping hedge and ditch,

While Spleen lies soft relaxed in bed,

Or o'er coal fires inclines the head,

Hygeia's sons7 with h o u n d and horn,

And jovial cry awake the morn.

To cure the mind's wrong bias, Spleen,

S o m e r e c o m m e n d the bowling-green;8

Some, hilly walks; all, exercise;

Fling but a stone, the giant dies;9

Laugh and be well. Monkeys have b e e n

Extreme good doctors for the Spleen;

And kitten, if the humor hit,1

Has harlequinned 0 away the fit. conjured away

If spleen-fogs rise at close of day,

I clear my evening with a play,

Or to some concert take my way.

T h e company, the shine of lights,

The scenes of humor, music's flights,

Adjust and set the soul to rights.

Life's moving pictures, well-wrought plays,

To others' grief attention raise:

Here, while the tragic fictions glow,

We borrow joy by pitying woe;

There gaily c o m i c scenes delight,

And hold true mirrors to our sight.

Virtue, in charming dress arrayed,

Calling the passions to her aid,

W h e n moral scenes just actions join,

Takes shape, and shows her face divine.

S o m e t i m e s I dress, with w o m e n sit,

And chat away the gloomy fit;

Quit the stiff garb of serious sense,

And wear a gay impertinence,indifference

Nor think nor speak with any pains,

But lay on fancy's neck the reins;

Talk of unusual swell of waist

In maid of honor2 loosely laced,

And beauty borr'wing Spanish red,3

And loving pair with sep'rate bed,

And jewels pawned for loss of game,

And then redeemed by loss of fame;

Of Kitty (aunt left in the lurch

By grave pretence to go to church)

Perceived in hack 0 with lover fine,

Like Will and Mary on the coin:4

And thus in modish 0 manner we,

In aid of sugar, sweeten tea.

Permit, ye fair, your idol form,beautiful woman

W h i c h e'en the coldest heart can warm,

May with its beauties grace my line,

While I bow down before its shrine,

And your thronged altars with my lays 0songs

Perfume, and get by giving praise.

W i t h speech so sweet, so sweet a mien,appearance

You e x c o m m u n i c a t e the Spleen.