The Dance of Life A Poem, by the author of "Doctor Syntax;%" [i.e. William Combe] Illustrated with coloured engravings, by Thomas Rowlandson |
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| II. |
| III. |
| IV. |
| V. |
| VI. |
| VII. |
| VIII. |
 | CHAPTER II. CHILDHOOD. The Dance of Life |  |
But here such caution was not known,
Nor was this wise attention known:
Sir William Graceful's little Heir
Receiv'd a diff'rent kind of care.
He was a lively, blooming boy,
The Father's pride, the Mother's joy:
Th'extreme of fondness did impart
Its power to the parental heart:
The eye its highest pleasure knew
As he in strength and beauty grew;
No music was so sweet to hear,
As when his voice address'd the ear;
And ev'ry other sense gave place,
When he return'd the fond embrace.
He form'd the morn's awak'ning care,
And fill'd the Ev'ning's ardent prayer.
Doting upon the cherub grace
That play'd around his rosy face;
No words e'er bore the chiding tone
That might becloud it with a frown;
And each indulgence did appear
To grant the wish or check the tear.
Thus he became a froward child—
Humour'd, and scarce half-taught, and spoil'd.
—He look'd so happy, when his Kite
Sprung in the air and gain'd its height;
So full of harmony the squall
When the Bat drove the flying Ball;
Of graceful motion what a treat
When the Rope pass'd beneath his feet;
What a young Hero did appear
When his Drum deafened ev'ry ear;
And no one dare for silence sue
When he the tuneless whistle blew.
—In short, it was a sin to teaze him,
Or to do aught that might displease him;
Nor could Mamma support the look
When he was ask'd about his book.
—But as 'twas fitting he should know
His Primmer, and the Chris-cross Row,
To an old Dame he was consign'd
As Alma Mater of his mind.
Nor was this wise attention known:
Sir William Graceful's little Heir
Receiv'd a diff'rent kind of care.
He was a lively, blooming boy,
The Father's pride, the Mother's joy:
Th'extreme of fondness did impart
Its power to the parental heart:
The eye its highest pleasure knew
As he in strength and beauty grew;
56
As when his voice address'd the ear;
And ev'ry other sense gave place,
When he return'd the fond embrace.
He form'd the morn's awak'ning care,
And fill'd the Ev'ning's ardent prayer.
Doting upon the cherub grace
That play'd around his rosy face;
No words e'er bore the chiding tone
That might becloud it with a frown;
And each indulgence did appear
To grant the wish or check the tear.
Thus he became a froward child—
Humour'd, and scarce half-taught, and spoil'd.
—He look'd so happy, when his Kite
Sprung in the air and gain'd its height;
So full of harmony the squall
When the Bat drove the flying Ball;
Of graceful motion what a treat
When the Rope pass'd beneath his feet;
57
When his Drum deafened ev'ry ear;
And no one dare for silence sue
When he the tuneless whistle blew.
—In short, it was a sin to teaze him,
Or to do aught that might displease him;
Nor could Mamma support the look
When he was ask'd about his book.
—But as 'twas fitting he should know
His Primmer, and the Chris-cross Row,
To an old Dame he was consign'd
As Alma Mater of his mind.
| CHAPTER II. CHILDHOOD. The Dance of Life | |