In an old poem called the return to Parnassus; or a scourge for Simony, Nash’s character is summed up in four lines, which Mrs. Cooper thinks is impartially done.
Let all his faults sleep in his mournful
chest,
And there for ever with his ashes rest!
His stile was witty; tho he had some gall:
Something he might have mended——so
may all
From his piers penniless.
Why is’t damnation to despair and
die,
When life is my true happiness disease?
My soul! my soul’ thy safety makes
me fly
The faulty means that might my pain appease,
Divines, and dying men may talk of Hell;
But, in my heart, her sev’ral torments
dwell!
Ah! worthless wit to train me to this
woe!
Deceitful arts, that nourish discontent!
Ill thrive the folly that bewitched me
so!
Vain thoughts adieu, for now I will repent!
And yet my wants persuade me to proceed,
Since none take pity of a Scholar’s
need!
Forgive me God, altho’ I curse my
birth,
And ban the air wherein I breath a wretch!
Since misery hath daunted all my mirth
And I am quite undone, thro’ promise
breach
O friends! no friends! that then ungently
frown,
When changing fortune casts us headlong
down!
Without redress, complains my careless
verse,
And Midas ears relent not at my moan!
In some far land will I my griefs rehearse,
’Mongst them that will be moved
when I shall groan!
England adieu! the soil that brought me
forth!
Adieu unkind where still is nothing worth!