93. Robert Southey to Horace Walpole Bedford, 7 June 1794*

Balliol. June 7. 1794.

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In return for your ode to Indolence I know nothing better than these strains to her eldest born. they immortalize a man who is the ne plus ultra of folly. one who in the midst of a moral argument when the principles of morality were discussing by one of most extraordinary merit, declared himself to be a very moral man “for by Gd I have not prostituted my body these six months!” as if (said Lovell) such a body could be prostituted! the first ode is by Lovell. the second my own.

Ode to Griggin

How shall the Muse — oh Griggin! say Awake her lyric numbers?Her song would wake thy drowsy soul From Follys stupid slumbers.But Truth inspires & I will sing My bosom feels her fullness —The Muse now hails thee in her song The eldest-born of Dullness.Thy form is like a wig box old Unfit to put a wig inAnd only fit for vacancy Or for the soul of Griggin.

The Muses office is designd To teach mankind their duty,To lead from Dullness & from Vice And point to Truth & Beauty.The good man well deserves the song To speak his godlike meritAnd so dost thou deserve it too To show thy grovelling spiritFor thou art like a crazy hulk That is not worth the rigging —And Toil & Care & Hope are lost If spent on thee oh Griggin!

Thou famous son of all thats dull Most assish & most mulishAbove thy fellows thou art raisd For thou’rt supremely foolish!Thrice blest art thou I do aver And happier far than manyMadness cant make thee lose thy wits — For thou hadst never any.Some lose their sense by potent wine But thou’rt not hurt by swigging —For thou hast got no sense to lose Oh happy happy Griggin!

The Sons of men degrade their minds Their foolish deeds debase em.But sure thy senses ca’nt be lowerd For every act must grace em.Of this secure mayest thou repose I never can forget theeThy stupid Face must oft present To all who ever met thee.And I’ll pourtray thy vacant soul With Joy & Folly jiggingAnd all I see thats mad or dull Shall make me think of Griggin.

Thy life can never tend to good Then take advice so civil,Dispatch thyself in cheapest way And make terms with the Devil.Thou eatest corn & earnest none Thou canst be useful neverAnd if thou livest to get a child — Then Folly lives for ever.Such sad such hopeless case as thine I would not keep a pig in —Then die as tis thy duty to And rid the world of Griggin!¹

Valentine

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Ode to Griggin.²

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DIGNUM LAUDE VIRUM MUSA VETAT MORI.³

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Griggin — already famed in odeBehold again on thee bestowed The generous Muses song.Nor let the wise contemptuous view Strains o Griggin pourd to you For strains to you belong.

That farmer most would I commendWho bids the yellow harvest bend Oer what was once a bog —That artist praise who shapes with careA table or an elbow chair From some unshapen log.

With ease the storied Bard may singOf stoic sage or laurelld King Or hero slaughterd throng —With joy the glowing Minstrel movesThe speaking lute to her he loves And hands her charms to song.

Nor undelightful sounds the layOf rural sports at close of day Or ruddy rustic digging.Pig muck [MS obscured] ass the lyre might graceBut tell me o Pierian race What can be said of Griggin!

The labouring ox will plough the soilThe patient ass submit to toil — The pig will make good bacon.But Griggin never can produceOught or from hind or hand for use — Or I am much mistaken

Well Griggin did they judge for youThy vacant intellect who knew How innocent of knowledge!Unfit for every scene of lifeFor fear that thou shouldst take a wife They sent thee here to College.

And wise it was to tie thee downIn Fellows sable cap & gown To spend thy life with books —Or else upon thy wedding dayT’had been the nations wisest way To build a new St Lukes

Here thou canst study how to dine —Consult who sells the best port wine To make thee brisk & mellow —Constant at chapel & thy glassAltho a most egregious ass A very decent FELLOW.

Since thou canst eat & drink & snore(And many a Parson does no more) And buy whateer you preach,A Parson thou at last mayest turnAltho too ignorant to learn Quite wise enough to teach!

Thus never curst with too much knowledgeEach vile & various vice of college Thou’lt wallow like a pig in —No serious thought disturb thy breastBut Folly sooth thy soul to rest — Oh happy happy Griggin!

Orson.⁴

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[MS missing] has stolen it who knew not half its value. that night [MS missing] of Helicon.⁵ I wish the person who sleeps in it may find it hot as Lukes iron crown.⁶

Your verses are good but incorrect. the more you write the better will be your verses. send me some more — & write oftener. I am much in the mood for versifying that I was at Brixton. continually at it & satisfied with all.

talking of Helicon I am longing for spruce beer. but between you & I, have a pretty good succedaneum in some strong beer. of which I will lay in another stock against your arrival.

Lightfoot departs on Friday week. alas poor Nicholas! but he lends me his rooms so you <may> wail for him over the pot. I have quarrelld with Jerry Collins. when you & your brother come I shall ask him to meet you some day. if he has sense enough he will come. if he does not ‘his crime will be his punishment.’⁷ aussi bien — n’importe on l’un ou l’autre⁸ as a frenchman said in a good story. I will admit any conversation in my company except smut. but where I go — there shall be serious conversation — there shall be opportunity for improvement. on this head we quarrelld — but revenge & malice cannot exist with my principles & when you come I shall ask him with the usual familiarity.

I am sitting without a fire for no other reason but because tis June. tis a bad reason — my legs & hands ache & my fire shall blaze tho twere the Dog days. what think you of Polish politics.⁹ (remember calling Levett badger to mob Doyly?) do you not feel interested for Kosciusko?¹⁰ & does not every feeling of Nature militate against — Russia — & Frederic William?¹¹ [MS missing]

write soon. friends fall off & Oxford grows duller. Seward is gone. & Lightfoot going. so Burnett & I <shall> have only a great unlickd Welch boy¹² for a constant visitor. one with good sense & good nature but like a fresh whelpd cub unlike any thing & who is not included in the second commandment.

one hour to dinner! & I have the voracity of ten tygers. Horace I have foresaid (not foresworn for I swear not) sugar. & my mouth is a stranger to gooseberry pye! never again shall the delicacies which human slavery & human misery produce, pollute the lips of

Robert Southey.

when you sweeten your tea think of this — in my next — more on this subject.