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Poem
April 21, 1788
The New York Journal, And Daily Patriotic Register
New York, New York County, New York
What is this article about?
In a vision by the Hudson, the poet encounters the nine Muses mourning the decline of poetry from revered art to tool for idle, filthy songs and political lampoons, especially by Albany's scribblers. They lament the mangling of verse and prose. Dated April 5, 1788.
Clipping
OCR Quality
95%
Excellent
Full Text
POET's CORNER
THE MUSES' COMPLAINT
A VISION.
As lately wandering, near the close of day,
Where silver Hudson's winding waters stray,
At once a spacious arbor 'round me spread,
The aerial songsters warbled o'er my head;
Amidst the grove array'd in sylvan state,
Nine beauteous maids in mournful converse sat--
In every face celestial beauty shone,
Though bath'd in tears for follies not their own.
Amaz'd I gaz'd, with wonder heard their songs,
For heavenly music moved upon their tongues:
Nor knew I, in the scene, if more to prize
What sooth'd my cares, or what allur'd my eyes.
They ceas'd--when one, in less inodious airs,
Renew'd their griefs, and thus told o'er their cares:
"The time has been when man the muse rever'd,
To ask her aid in aught unsacred fear'd;
Thus years roll'd on, at length her suit they crave
To praise the good, and celebrate the brave.
Next love and rural pleasures claim her care;
And now the plains, the fields, and now the fair;
Then groves resounded with the vocal choir,
Anon invok'd we aid the harp and lyre."
Thus thro' the world did harmony diffuse,
And man was taught to venerate the muse:
"Those days, alas! are past, and now the throng
Implore our aid in every idle song;
No theme so filthy but 'tis made to chime:
No words are thought too black to yoke in rhyme.
Now broils and lewdness here are taught to roar
Knave lampoons knave, and whore despises whore
Each daring scribbler, impudently bold,
Invokes some sacred muse to hear him scold
And is in all he writes (though thought sublime)
Butcher of prose, and murderer of rhyme.
Ah! Albany, when shall thy scribbling throngs,
Cease hampering prose, and mangling all their songs;
When shall thy hot purs, and thy tyrant's foes,
Quit scribbling what is neither verse nor prose;
Taunt politic jargon they have taught to chime,
A foe to tyrants turns a foe to rhyme;
In new heroics all their spleen is hurl'd,
Nor feet nor number grace the mangled word
Ah hold, ye bunglers; rack no more your brain
To spoil what we've no genius to attain:
Ah! stay your stuff (a muse demands the boon)
Before he's murder'd with a dull lampoon.
This said, all vanish'd from my wond'ring sight,
And earth already fac'd the shades of night.
April 5, 1788.
THE MUSES' COMPLAINT
A VISION.
As lately wandering, near the close of day,
Where silver Hudson's winding waters stray,
At once a spacious arbor 'round me spread,
The aerial songsters warbled o'er my head;
Amidst the grove array'd in sylvan state,
Nine beauteous maids in mournful converse sat--
In every face celestial beauty shone,
Though bath'd in tears for follies not their own.
Amaz'd I gaz'd, with wonder heard their songs,
For heavenly music moved upon their tongues:
Nor knew I, in the scene, if more to prize
What sooth'd my cares, or what allur'd my eyes.
They ceas'd--when one, in less inodious airs,
Renew'd their griefs, and thus told o'er their cares:
"The time has been when man the muse rever'd,
To ask her aid in aught unsacred fear'd;
Thus years roll'd on, at length her suit they crave
To praise the good, and celebrate the brave.
Next love and rural pleasures claim her care;
And now the plains, the fields, and now the fair;
Then groves resounded with the vocal choir,
Anon invok'd we aid the harp and lyre."
Thus thro' the world did harmony diffuse,
And man was taught to venerate the muse:
"Those days, alas! are past, and now the throng
Implore our aid in every idle song;
No theme so filthy but 'tis made to chime:
No words are thought too black to yoke in rhyme.
Now broils and lewdness here are taught to roar
Knave lampoons knave, and whore despises whore
Each daring scribbler, impudently bold,
Invokes some sacred muse to hear him scold
And is in all he writes (though thought sublime)
Butcher of prose, and murderer of rhyme.
Ah! Albany, when shall thy scribbling throngs,
Cease hampering prose, and mangling all their songs;
When shall thy hot purs, and thy tyrant's foes,
Quit scribbling what is neither verse nor prose;
Taunt politic jargon they have taught to chime,
A foe to tyrants turns a foe to rhyme;
In new heroics all their spleen is hurl'd,
Nor feet nor number grace the mangled word
Ah hold, ye bunglers; rack no more your brain
To spoil what we've no genius to attain:
Ah! stay your stuff (a muse demands the boon)
Before he's murder'd with a dull lampoon.
This said, all vanish'd from my wond'ring sight,
And earth already fac'd the shades of night.
April 5, 1788.
What sub-type of article is it?
Satire
What themes does it cover?
Satire Society
What keywords are associated?
Muses Complaint
Vision Hudson
Bad Poetry
Albany Scribblers
Literary Satire
Political Lampoons
Poem Details
Title
The Muses' Complaint
Subject
A Vision.
Form / Style
Rhymed Couplets
Key Lines
As Lately Wandering, Near The Close Of Day, Where Silver Hudson's Winding Waters Stray,
"The Time Has Been When Man The Muse Rever'd, To Ask Her Aid In Aught Unsacred Fear'd;"
No Theme So Filthy But 'Tis Made To Chime: No Words Are Thought Too Black To Yoke In Rhyme.
Ah! Albany, When Shall Thy Scribbling Throngs, Cease Hampering Prose, And Mangling All Their Songs;
Ah Hold, Ye Bunglers; Rack No More Your Brain To Spoil What We've No Genius To Attain: