23. Robert Southey to Grosvenor Charles Bedford, [c. September 1792]*

Patience & Toasted Cheese

Ah who can tell what varying FateAttends on mans inconstant state And marks the coming hour —Ah who can tell or sage or wiseThe next event that brooding lies In Fortunes froward power!

For who would think when all aroundReechoed loud the applauding sound On Georges natal day.¹ The pastimes done, the shouts no morePoor I was left to sadden oer Misfortunes hapless prey?

Yet so it was for when on highThe rockets brightend in the sky And reard the wondering shout,To claim their reign in darkest nightThe Salamanders took their flight And let my fire go out.

Why did <not> one at least remain?So many there must sure be vain But there indeed they went!The Gnome Cinerus² watchd the fireHe saw it dwindle & expire To dust & ashes spent.

He saw with joy his destind preyHe saw it own his hateful sway Regardless of my ease — The fireworks done! alas poor me!Down stairs in haste I came to see About my toasted cheese.

You who have heard Achilles rageIn minstrel Grecians hallowd page When Venus rushd belowAnd spread between the misty cloudHer pious-scoundrel son to shroud From too resistless foe.³

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Tho I have timeTo make it rhyme As you may see my friendThe sole pretenceThis has to sense Is to match the other end

You who have seen deep anger riseAnd flame in Mr Smedleys⁴ eyes When some unlucky wight(As I once did) to fume & smokeConverts the fiery-coming joke And he miscarries quite.

You who have seen when Dodds pale cheekExpressd his rage to hear me speak — May fancy if you please,To what a pitch my sorrow grewIn what a dreadful rage I flew About my toasted cheese.

I seizd the poker & the slice⁵ In hopes to mend it in a trice And furiously did pokeI pokd & pokd, & laughd & saidTill I had suppd I’d not to bed In truth & not in joke

Still did Cinerus keep his seatNor could I force from his retreat No Salamander there —And here sat Tom⁶ & there sat Shad⁷ They laughd — I laughd & all were mad And so — I took a chair.

But Shad more versd in magic loreA talisman of wonderous power Took fearless in his hand —A talisman whose potent swayEach Salamander must obey To those who understand

A metal box this charm containd —With what from calcind flax remaind A stone of dappled hueDeep dug from mine — with nicest careRefind by flames increasd by air In shape & nature new.

With nicest stroke on anvil strongBeat hard & fierce the flames among In shape for service meetA handle there appeard in viewTo put the fingers safely thro And then undaunted beat

A tinder box tis calld belowWhat hight above I do not know, And sooth to say don’t careShad graspt this in his skilful handThen watchful took his curious stand And there began to beat prepare.

Aw’d by the wonderous powerful soundThe Salamanders gather round Obedient to his callIn sparks of fire they hover thereNow from the stoney womb appear And in the store-house fall.

Tis done. the taper blazes brightWe gladden at the chearful sight It gave my woes some ease —For soon I sure may go to bed(Thus sleepy to myself I said When I have had my cheese.

Call then (said Prudence) to your aidThe Sylph in yon machine there laid And blow the kindling fire — Let Sylphs & Salamanders joinAgainst the Gnome their power combine And bid the flames aspire.

To all indeed the advice seemd goodI took the Sylph inclosd in wood I placed it on my knees.The fire increasd — the flames they grewOut with the dust Cinerus flew And Sally⁸ cut my cheese.

Plague take that Gnome. may magic powerEmbitter every future hour Close him in earthquakes shockOr whelm him in a coal pit lowOr down Volcanos bid him go Or rive in rough ribbd rock.

For now the fire began to glareThe cheese was cut & pard with care And in the toaster laidSays I, all toils & perils pastSure I shall have my cheese at last And so I am not afraid

“Ah luckless word & bootless boast”⁹ Indeed I found it to my cost As I prepare to tell —Cinerus in a cinder layResolvd to make the cheese his prey And down the trippet fell

I laughd — I rag’d now almost mad —And so was Tom & so was Shad I thought I should have sworeOut would have come a swelling oathBut I considerd in my wrath That I could have some more.

And Fancy popt into my headIn all her lovely charms & said Come Southey be at easeList to my counsel & attendDo send the story to your friend For he loves toasted cheese.

And when your life from toil has restdWhen you & cheese are both digested Perhaps this tale shall pleaseAnd future nations in your pageShall read & ridicule your rage About the toasted cheese

I have sent what I hope my dear Bedford will pleaseSome Patience & with it the tale of my cheeseOf that quite enough. you know Charles’s old rule“Who talks of past sorrows is surely a fool.¹⁰ My heart not over easy — a pain in my headTis now full six hours eer I can go to bed.And in the mean time as I something must doI’ll devote one half hour to rhyme reason & you.I grant very seldom in this present timeYou will find any reason will meddle with rhyme,When gossamer tears mantle over the eyeWhen verses are hung on a cobweb to dryAnd witty Mit Yenda¹¹ beseeches his museWith harmonious does’s & did’s dost’s & do’sWhen at Bath Thomas Cross of Kingsmead Street Esquire¹² Write letters & sonnets & whines by the quireTho rhyme my dear friend shall like mushrooms in seasonAmongst the whole mass you will seldom find reason

Last night how d’ye think I got off with the time?{This verse has no reason tis only for rhyme}Read by candle I durst not — thus sorely perplext{For the sense my dear Bedford go on with the next}I opened my box where in sad dismal show[MS torn] the Flagellants¹³ lay packt up neat in a row [MS torn] Satire — not able by candle to write[MS torn] all rest for the rest of the night —[MS torn]od bye to both Luther & Calvin & Knox¹⁴ I heated the clamps & prepared the box —And whilst our productions around did environ(Tis a good rhyme of Butlers¹⁵ ) I sat down to iron.Why should I be ashamed? I remember at Brixton(Oh how shall I make this next verse here to fix on!)In short Bedford you see that I only can rhymeIn content [MS obscured] have reason perhaps the next time.

What a train of reflections recurrd to his mindWhen a fine periwinkle Rousseau¹⁶ chanct to find!Indeed my dear Bedford reflections like theseNever fail whilst they torture the bosom to please — When bleeding Remembrance fresh opens her viensDoes not Sorrow herself more than pay for her pains?Does her pleasure admit of the smallest alloy? noRecollect Homers τεταρπομεδα γαοιο¹⁷

L’Homme de la Nature!¹⁸ ah could I but knowThat my name might one day resemble Rousseau,As like his periwinkle I feel every hourThe days that are past come in soul-rending powerDays lovd & lamented — when blithe as the dayThat calld me to pleasure I rose but to playWhen Learning held forth her inviting bright armsAnd Study deprivd of constraint had but charms!When days weeks & months with rapi<di>ty flewAnd I wept for the sorrows I then never knew.Those sources exhausted cold Apathy steelsAnd this selfish breast for itself only feelsAh no! for I write what I wish to believeBut whilst I have eyes left — those eyes sure will grieve — Een now down my cheek the too pleasing tears flowSensibility shed oer the page of RousseauFor show me the wretch that unmovd can read hereThat can run oer the page without shedding no tearIf he has a soul which I dare not declareIt is not the soul of a man but a bear.

But here will or nill I must finish my friendFor as you may see my whole sheets’ at an end —

One little corner remains for a little prose — on Wednesday next morning I go to Bristol — where in all human probability I shall remain till my departure to Oxford. a period I look forward to without pleasure & expect without pain — the university life is that horrid negative state to me far worse than actual suffering — I came in a hot day into the world & know no medium in my temper — but my corner is almost full. direct to me at Miss TylersBristol — there I go to my huge desk full of scraps now almost unintelligible to myself which are gradually giving way to fairer copies — I ought to be studying Euclid ¹⁹ — (the Devil take that wretch & make draw triangles below) but Rousseau being more calculated for me the geometrician lies as stupid as he would make me. remember me to your brother & send Collins direction