A COLLOQUIAL POEM


    Jacob! I do not like to see thy nose
    Turn'd up in scornful curve at yonder pig,
    It would be well, my friend, if we like him,
    Were perfect in our kind!... And why despise
    The sow-born grunter?... He is obstinate,
    Thou answerest; ugly, and the filthiest beast
    That banquets upon offal.... Now I pray you
    Hear the pig's counsel.
                            Is he obstinate?
    We must not, Jacob, be deceived by words;
    We must not take them as unheeding hands
    Receive base money at the current worth
    But with a just suspicion try their sound,
    And in the even balance weight them well
    See now to what this obstinacy comes:
    A poor, mistreated, democratic beast,
    He knows that his unmerciful drivers seek
    Their profit, and not his. He hath not learned
    That pigs were made for man,... born to be brawn'd
    And baconized: that he must please to give
    Just what his gracious masters please to take;
    Perhaps his tusks, the weapons Nature gave
    For self-defense, the general privilege;
    Perhaps,... hark, Jacob! dost thou hear that horn?
    Woe to the young posterity of Pork!
    Their enemy is at hand.
                            Again. Thou say'st
    The pig is ugly. Jacob, look at him!
    Those eyes have taught the lover flattery.
    His face,... nay, Jacob! Jacob! were it fair
    To judge a lady in her dishabille?
    Fancy it dressed, and with saltpeter rouged.
    Behold his tail, my friend; with curls like that
    The wanton hop marries her stately spouse:
    So crisp in beauty Amoretta's hair
    Rings round her lover's soul the chains of love.
    And what is beauty, but the aptitude
    Of parts harmonious? Give thy fancy scope,
    And thou wilt find that no imagined change
    Can beautify this beast. Place at his end
    The starry glories of the peacock's pride,
    Give him the swan's white breast; for his horn-hoofs
    Shape such a foot and ankle as the waves
    Crowded in eager rivalry to kiss
    When Venus from the enamor'd sea arose;...
    Jacob, thou canst but make a monster of him!
    An alteration man could think, would mar
    His pig-perfection.
                            The last charge,... he lives
    A dirty life. Here I could shelter him
    With noble and right-reverend precedents.
    And show by sanction of authority
    That 'tis a very honorable thing
    To thrive by dirty ways. But let me rest
    On better ground the unanswerable defense.
    The pig is a philosopher, who knows
    No prejudice. Dirt?... Jacob, what is dirt?
    If matter,... why the delicate dish that tempts
    An o'ergorged epicure to the last morsel
    That stuffs him to the throat-gates, is no more.
    If matter be not, but as sages say,
    Spirit is all, and all things visible
    Are one, the infinitely modified,
    Think, Jacob, what that pig is, and the mire
    Wherein he stands knee-deep!
                            And there! the breeze
    Pleads with me, and has won thee to a smile
    That speaks conviction. O'er yon blossom'd field
    Of beans it came, and thoughts of bacon rise.

More information on Robert Southey