The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge Volume I Part 102

The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge Volume I Part 102

The frighted beast scamper'd about-- Plunge! through the hedge he drove: 20 The mob pursue with hideous rout, A bull-dog fastens on his snout; 'He gores the dog! his tongue hangs out!

He's mad, he's mad, by Jove!'

V

'STOP, NEIGHBOURS, STOP!' aloud did call 25 A sage of sober hue.

But all at once, on him they fall, And women squeak and children squall, 'What? would you have him toss us all?

And dam'me, who are you?' 30

VI

Oh! hapless sage! his ears they stun, And curse him o'er and o'er!

'You b.l.o.o.d.y-minded dog! (cries one,) To slit your windpipe were good fun, 'Od blast you for an _impious_ son[300:1] 35 Of a Presbyterian wh--re!'

VII

'You'd have him gore the Parish-priest, And run against the altar!

You fiend!' the sage his warnings ceas'd, And north and south, and west and east, 40 Halloo! they follow the poor beast, Mat, d.i.c.k, Tom, Bob and Walter.

VIII

Old Lewis ('twas his evil day), Stood trembling in his shoes; The ox was his--what cou'd he say?

His legs were stiffen'd with dismay, 45 The ox ran o'er him mid the fray, And gave him his death's bruise.

IX

The frighted beast ran on--(but here, No tale, (tho' in print, more true is) 50 My Muse stops short in mid career-- Nay, gentle Reader, do not sneer!

I cannot chuse but drop a tear, A tear for good old Lewis!)

X

The frighted beast ran through the town, 55 All follow'd, boy and dad, Bull-dog, parson, shopman, clown: The publicans rush'd from the Crown, 'Halloo! hamstring him! cut him down!'

THEY DROVE THE POOR OX MAD. 60

XI

Should you a Rat to madness tease Why ev'n a Rat may plague you: There's no Philosopher but sees That Rage and Fear are one disease-- Though that may burn, and this may freeze, 65 They're both alike the Ague.

XII

And so this Ox, in frantic mood, Fac'd round like any Bull!

The mob turn'd tail, and he pursued, Till they with heat and fright were stew'd, 70 And not a chick of all this brood But had his belly full!

XIII

Old Nick's astride the beast, 'tis clear!

Old Nicholas, to a t.i.ttle!

But all agree he'd disappear, 75 Would but the Parson venture near, And through his teeth,[302:1] right o'er the steer, Squirt out some fasting-spittle.

XIV

Achilles was a warrior fleet, The Trojans he could worry: 80 Our Parson too was swift of feet, But shew'd it chiefly in retreat: The victor Ox scour'd down the street, The mob fled hurry-scurry.

XV

Through gardens, lanes and fields new-plough'd, 85 Through _his_ hedge, and through _her_ hedge, He plung'd and toss'd and bellow'd loud-- Till in his madness he grew proud To see this helter-skelter crowd That had more wrath than courage! 90

XVI

Alas! to mend the breaches wide He made for these poor ninnies, They all must work, whate'er betide, Both days and months, and pay beside (Sad news for Av'rice and for Pride), 95 A _sight_ of golden guineas!

XVII

But here once more to view did pop The man that kept his senses-- And now he cried,--'Stop, neighbours, stop!

The Ox is mad! I would not swop, 100 No! not a school-boy's farthing top For all the parish-fences.'

XVIII

'The Ox is mad! Ho! d.i.c.k, Bob, Mat!

'What means this coward fuss?

Ho! stretch this rope across the plat-- 105 'Twill trip him up--or if not that, Why, dam'me! we must lay him flat-- See! here's my blunderbuss.'

XIX

'_A lying dog! just now he said The Ox was only glad-- 110 Let's break his Presbyterian head!_'

'Hush!' quoth the sage, 'you've been misled; No quarrels now! let's all make head, YOU DROVE THE POOR OX MAD.'

XX

As thus I sat, in careless chat, 115 With the morning's wet newspaper, In eager haste, without his hat, As blind and blund'ring as a bat, In came that fierce Aristocrat, Our pursy woollen-draper. 120

XXI

And so my Muse per force drew bit; And in he rush'd and panted!

'Well, have you heard?' No, not a whit.

'What, _ha'nt_ you heard?' Come, out with it!

'That Tierney votes for Mister PITT, 125 And Sheridan's _recanted_!'

1798.

FOOTNOTES:

[299:1] First published in the _Morning Post_ for July 30, 1798, with the following t.i.tle and introduction:--'ORIGINAL POETRY. A TALE. The following amusing Tale gives a very humourous description of the French Revolution, which is represented as an Ox': included in _Annual Anthology_, 1800, and _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817; reprinted in _Essays on His Own Times_, 1880, iii 963-9. First collected in _P. and D. W._, 1877-80. In a copy of the _Annual Anthology_ of 1800 Coleridge writes over against the heading of this poem, 'Written when fears were entertained of an invasion, and Mr. Sheridan and Mr. Tierney were absurdly represented as having _recanted_ because to [The French Revolution (?)] in its origin they, [having been favourable, changed their opinion when the Revolutionists became unfaithful to their principles (?)].' See _Note to P. W._, 1893.

The text is that of _Sibylline Leaves_ and _Essays on his Own Times_.

[300:1] One of the many fine words which the most uneducated had about this time a constant opportunity of acquiring, from the sermons in the pulpit and the proclamations on [in _S. L._] the ---- corners. _An.

Anth._, _S. L._