[Page]
[Page]
THE MODERN QUAKER.
A comparative view of the PRIMITIVE and PRESENT state of the Society of FRIENDS, particularly addressed to the Youth. Written in ENGLAND by an Observer, and presented to FRIENDS' Children.
THY daughters, Fox, in former days
When they deserv'd, contemn'd all praise,
But, with a self-approving mind,
No charms in human praise they find;
Yet let my muse their virtues trace,
And dwell with joy on ev'ry grace:
The lovely portrait hung on high,
Perhap's may strike some fair one's eye;
Its charms shall touch the
modern dame,
And flush her cheek with conscious shame.
No costly robes, no broider'd hair,
No silks adorn'd the modest fair:
Distended hoops would shock the eye—
A naked breast would terrify!
They held that wanton, gay attire,
Was fuel for lascivious fire,
And valu'd more St. Paul's advice,
Which bade them seek the
pearl of price.
And why should dress, our parent's shame,
Their daughters breasts with pride inflame?
But tho' in simple robes array'd,
Behold what beauties grace the maid.
Upon her lip sits sacred truth,
Temp'rance gives the bloom of youth;
[Page 2] Within her breast dwells tranquil peace,
With modest blushes in her face;
Love sparkles in her dove-like eyes,
For innocence needs no disguise,
But prudence, on her brow enthron'd,
Commands respect from all around.
Fair Chastity her soul inspires,
And Charity's immortal fires;
Virtue within her spotless mind
Sits like a DEITY enshrin'd.
No vain romance, or wanton play,
Could waste a moment of the day,
But oft with deep, attentive thought,
They read the book with wisdom fraught.
They could employ their vacant hours,
Extracting health from herbs and flowers,
Which freely on the waters cast,
They doubt not will return at last.
But see them now in crowds repair,
To dwell within the house of pray'r.
Here no cold forms, no slavish rules,
(So oft the sacrifice of fools)
Confine the spark of heavenly flame,
That would ascend from whence it came.
Now every human care resign'd,
Deep silence fills th' adoring mind;
Patient they wait th' inspiring breath,
Which bade them rise from life to death;
That flame celestial, which inspires
The ardent soul with strong desires.
But vain my efforts to describe
The virtues of this chosen tribe:
[Page 3] In their descendants can we trace
Such virtues, sanctity and grace?
Ye fair apostates! who so long
Have learn'd the Babylonish song,
When e'er you turn the sacred page,
Let Dinah's fate your thoughts engage;
None did assault the spotless maid,
Whilst in the Patriarch's tent she staid,
But when she quits the sacred fence,
She loses fame and innocence:
So you, while by sage rules confin'd,
Rules which by wisdom were design'd,
You shine as stars, with heavenly fire,
E'en I, a Gentile,
*must admire;
But when beyond these bounds you stray,
Temptations thick lie in the way:
Beware, fair Nymphs! on glass you stand,
And Hamor's sons are near at hand.
Why is the bosom open laid—
Or veil'd beneath a cob-web shade?
Why doth the wanton eye impart
Its fire into another's heart?
Are hoops, ye fair backsliders! say,
Fit for the
broad or
narrow way?
Will a fair face, or graceful mien
Keep sickness off, or banish pain?
Will time's relentless weapon spare
The faultless shape, or braided hair?
In vain, my sisters, you conceal
What every motion must reveal;
[Page 4] Oh pardon then the friendly care,
That says you are not what you were.
Six days I pass, nor will I ask
How you in them perform'd your task;
But let your friend a tale relate,
Instruction may in trifles wait.
Chance lately led my wandering feet
Where all the friendly circle meet;
There no proud columns lifted high,
Nor sculptur'd dome attract the eye;
Fair decency, with solemn grace,
And frugal plainness marks the place.
"Here," said your friend, "is virtue's seat,
"And here the just assembly meet;
"Fair piety breathes all around,
"I tread, methinks, on holy ground!
"Here solemn prayer ascends the skies—
"A thousand wing'd petitions rise.
"Shall I presume to mix with these,
"Or dare to offer human praise?"
At Ramah Saul forgets his pride,
And lays his savage rage aside.
I enter'd—and with great surprize
Around I cast my wond'ring eyes!
"What can this mean!—each blooming maid
"In rich and gaudy robes array'd?
"What rainbow dies! what changing hue!
"What forms deck'd out in public view!"
The hair in graceful arches rose,
The sweeping train as graceful flows;
No lavish ornament's deny'd,
Can Sion's daughter's stoop to pride?
Where is the sweetly timmid air,
[Page 5] The gentle movements of the fair?
The chaste reserve, the modest grace,
Charms which outshine the finest face?—
I find them not; but in their stead
Bold confidence erects her head.
Is this the solemn house of pray'r?
Is nought but solemn silence here?
I hear indeed a vocal sound,
Uneasy silence reigns around;
"Uneasy silence?"—yes I find
No signs of a collected mind;
And Charity herself might say,
Your thoughts are wand'ring far astray:
The seats of honor vacant lie,
Alas! will none assume so high!
Oh Pennington, bright son of fame!
And Fox, thou great unrival'd name!
Thou Barclay! whose well-guarded page
Defies the critic's force and rage;
Unnumber'd worthies! sons of light,
Who stem'd the superstitious night
With rage divine—where are you fled?
Ah! number'd with the silent dead!
If earth's low cares can now engage,
Oh look to this luxurious age;
What prisons, racks, and death obtain'd,
By your degenerate race disdain'd.
Yet such there are, and but a few,
Who tread the paths prescrib'd by you.
Many have fall'n, but yet not all,
Some have not bow'd the knee to Baal;
Some like fix'd stars, divinely bright,
Shine through this intellectual night;
[Page 6] And chief of these MARIA thou—
Ye giddy fair in homage bow
To that chaste name, or let it fire
Your frozen breasts with strong desire;
Your thoughts and hearts let it enflame,
To imitate the matchless dame;
But thou, MARIA, shalt engage
The labors of a loftier page:
Ill would keen satire's muse agree
With meek-ey'd Charity and thee.
But you, ye modern dames, attend,
Regard the counsels of a friend,
And all religion's claim apart,
If man's esteem can touch your heart:
If from the Gentiles you expect
The tribute of sincere respect,
Would you from Esau's lineage prove
Sincere and undissembled love;
If this you seek, alike renounce
The hoop, the ruffle, and the flounce;
A little lower set the hair,
Forbid the practic'd eye to stare,
And lay the sweeping train aside,
With all the gaudy plumes of pride,
Which but too much would tire the muse,
Should she the copious subject choose.
Your native dignity resume,
Shun the rich labors of the loom;
Condemn the unavailing art
Which strikes the eye, but not the heart.
Do this my friends, but stop not here,
Something remains well worth your care.
The gems enclos'd in cells of clay
[Page 7] Methinks beam but a feeble ray;
Its native lustre is obscur'd
In the dark cells of sin immur'd;
I see the clouds around it spread,
Dark ignorance here rears her head:
Unblushing confidence is here,
Presumption, pride, and foolish fear.
Here folly's bolt at random flies;
Pride, eagle-wing'd, attempts the skies;
And love I see, but not that love
Which boasts a sanction from above.
Say, is your monitor too bold,
Who deems it is the love of gold?
I see—But hold, presumptuous muse!
A subject less offensive choose;
No more unveil the female breast,
Let thy fair pupils find the rest;
But rather, if thou canst, display
A light to guide them on their way:
It's own'd by all the friendly band
A guide, unerring, is at hand;
A ray divine, whose sov'reign light
Can pierce the thickest shades of night;
A potent friend, forever near,
A "still small voice," which all can hear.
And oh! ye fair, in vain would I
The great, the solemn truth deny.
There is indeed a pow'r within,
That can both show, and shield from sin;
Its gentle dictates, if obey'd,
Will to the paths of safety lead:
And sure its aid is wanting here,
Oh! learn in time, prudential fair;
[Page 8] Let folly at a distance play;
To shun temptation is the way.
Trust not too far in human strength,
The strongest may be foil'd at length.
The moth around the candle plays,
'Till drawn by its attracting blaze
Still near and nearer to the beam,
It sinks in the devouring flame.
An empty name no longer boast—
For ah! you bear that name at most:
Up to your high profession stand,
Or join the "daughters of the land."
If as you are, you will remain,
If satire is employ'd in vain,
At least forgive the friendly care
That tells you truly what you are.
A cake unturn'd is Ephraim now,
You in the house of Rimmon bow;
And some—I speak with grief and shame,
Some that were wash'd in Jordan's stream.
To Idol Gods shall Israel bow?
Like Laodicea, lukewarm grow?
And maids of Judah sacrifice,
With hearts impure, and wanton eyes?
To things forbidden, Saul aspire?
And Korah light unhallowed fire?
The Ark is taken!—Palestine
Exulting cries, "the day is mine!"
Philadelphia: Printed and sold by DANIEL LAWRENCE, No. 33. North 4th Street.