Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, AN EPISTLE FROM A HALF-PAY OFFICER .. TO FRIEND IN LONDON, by RICHARDSON PACK


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

AN EPISTLE FROM A HALF-PAY OFFICER .. TO FRIEND IN LONDON, by                    
First Line: Curse on the star, dear harry, that betrayed
Last Line: O cursed effects of honourable peace!
Subject(s): Peace


CURSE on the star, dear Harry, that betrayed
My choice from law, divinity or trade,
To turn a rambling brother o' the blade!
Of all professions sure the worst is war.
How whimsical our fortune! how bizarre!
This week we shine in scarlet and in gold:
The next, the cloak is pawned—the watch is sold.
Today we're company for any lord:
Tomorrow not a soul will take our word.
Like meteors raised in a tempestuous sky,
A while we glitter, then obscurely die.
Must heroes suffer such disgrace as this?
O cursed effects of Honourable Peace!

I, who not long ago indulged my hours
In witty commerce or in soft amours,
And in rich Mulso, Volney or Champagne
Adored each night the beauties then in reign
(Till, arms submitting to the awful gown,
Our troops were forced to abdicate the town),
Must now retire, and languish out my days
Far from the roads of pleasure or of praise:
Quit sweet Hyde Park for dull provincial air,
And change the playhouse for a country fair;
With sneaking parsons beastly bumpers quaff,
At low conceits and vile conundrums laugh;
Toast to the Church and talk of Right Divine,
And herd with squires—more noisy than their swine.
Must heroes suffer such disgrace as this?
O cursed effects of Honourable Peace!

There was a time—oh yes! there was a time—
(Ere poverty made luxury a crime)
When marigolds in porridge were a jest,
And soups were used to introduce the feast.
Then French ragouts were orthodox and good,
And truffles held no heresy in food.
Nor to eat mackerel was judged high treason,
Though gooseberries as yet were not in season.
But under H[ar]ley's frugal dispensation,
These vanities require a reformation.
Scourged by his wand and humbled by his sway,
I've learned to suit my diet to my pay;
And now can sanctify with solemn face
A heavy dumpling with a formal grace.
In awkward plenty, slovenly I dine,
And nappy ale supplies the want of wine.
No nice desserts my learned palate please:
To fill up chinks—a slice of Suffolk cheese.
And must then heroes nibble Suffolk cheese?
O cursed effects of Honourable Peace!

But ah! the hardest part is still behind—
The fair too, gentle Harry, prove unkind.
Think then how wretchedly my life must pass!
For what's this world, my friend, without a lass?
Poor be my lot, inglorious be my state,
Give me but woman, I'll absolve my fate.
But 'tis in vain_____
Th' ungrateful sex, as senseless as unjust,
To feed their pride will even starve their lust:
And fooled by equipage and empty show,
Quit the tough soldier for the lathy beau.
I who so oft their forward zeal have showed,
And in their service spent my warmest blood,
Am now reduced (hard fate!) for want of pelf
To fight the Jesuit's battle by myself.
Must heroes suffer such disgrace as this?
O cursed effects of Honourable Peace!





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