First line: ‘This Lily teaches—to whose name I owe’. The title is a quotation from William Lily’s famous Latin grammar.
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Transcript
The Masculine Gender is | more worthy than the Feminine, & |
The Feminine more worthy than | the Neuter
This Lily teaches—to whose name I owe,
With gratitude I own it, many a blow.
This is a lesson, which we study young,
And learn’t with labor shou’d remember long.
O! when a few more rapid Years are fled,
How wou’d it hurt me to break Priscian’s head,
And find myself forgetful of my shool†,
A living violation of the rule.— {1}
Yes may I be, ’tis all the boon I need,
Not one in Semblance, but a man indeed,
Who holds the firmness of his nature dear,
Of soul intrepid, & of judgment clear;
Resolved by wise, & high designs to shew,
That heaven has may him lord of all below.
Peace to the Gaudy Foplings, who disgrace {2}
With soften’d airs the honor of their race;
And idly emulous of female charms,
Wave the contention both of arts, & arms;
With souls too delicate for nature’s plan,
Without the courage, or the strenght† of Man.
The he–she creatures of ambiguous mold,
Basely degenerate from their Sires of old.
Heavens! how unlike the men that gave them birth,
Robust, & brave, victorious oer the Earth;
Whilst strength, {3} & fortitude adorn’d the court,
And tilts, & tournaments were counted Sport.
Witness the times when Norman fierceness shone,
When firm Plantagenets possess’d the throne,
When Giant Courcy stood himself an host,
And Edward thunder’d on the Gallic coast.
Witness the Ghosts of Cressy’s bloody field,
Gaunt’s ponderous Spear, & Talbot’s massy shield;
Witness what still with rapture we display,
The Glory of our annal’s†, Crispin’s day,
When Harry with his small, but hardy band,
Shew’d one to ten the mettle of their land.—
O! might I see the manly times restor’d,
Of equal praise for wisdom, & the sword.
When science grew amain, & commerce spread,
And liberty just rear’d her infant head.
When Spencer blew the reed, & Bacon thought,
When Cecil counsell’d, & when Raleigh fought.
And the proud fleet, which whiten’d all the main,
With just reproach was driven back to Spain.
How wou’d it grieve such fathers to survey,
From their {4} empyrial seats of endless day
The alterd fashions of the world below,
And view their offspring in a modern Beau!
Some petit-maitre, slave to mode, & dress,
Half feminine in form, in manners less:
How would they scorn to see a man alive,
Soft beyond female affectation strive
With vain attempts to nurse those sickly flowers,
Transalpine manners {5} in a clime like ours;
A squeamish race that cannot bear in aught
Or bold atchievement, or a strength {6} of thought;
But throwing all man’s dignity aside,
And sunk in trifles spread their follies wide. {7}
Not but there are, who conscious of such shame
Will yet support the grandeur of our name.
The Ladies in contempt will fill the place,
Our Macaronies quitted with disgrace.
Shou’d there break out (wch Heaven forfend) a war,
The men may sleep, our maids shall mount the car;
Tho’ men be grown for powder too discreet,
The female coterie shall man the fleet.
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{1} There is a slight space between this line and the next.
{2} This line is slightly indented.
{3} Written as ‘strenght’ (cf. line 20), but ‘2’ and ‘1’ have been written, in that order, above the last two letters to indicate that their order should be reversed.
{4} Altered from ‘the’.
{5} ‘transalpine manners’ is in apposition to ‘sickly flowers’.
{6} Altered from ‘strenght’.
{7} There is a slight space between this line and the next, which is slightly indented.
† Sic.
