Ball room votaries or, Canterbury and its vicinity. Second Edition, with considerable alterations and additions [by Edward Quillinan] |
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 | Ball room votaries |  |
You stare at yonder antiquated hag,
That smirks and smiles at every handsome wag;
I know her well—and her advancing age
Perchance had sav'd her from satiric page,
Had there been nought but venial faults to scan,
For venial faults are seen in every man;
But when a str**p*t, harden'd in her trade,
Whose ev'ry spark of youthful fire's decay'd,
Still shews Adultress written on her front,
And, buoy'd by rank, audacious stands the brunt,
Virtue and chastity alike implore
Each honest pen that stubborn heart to gore.
That smirks and smiles at every handsome wag;
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Perchance had sav'd her from satiric page,
Had there been nought but venial faults to scan,
For venial faults are seen in every man;
But when a str**p*t, harden'd in her trade,
Whose ev'ry spark of youthful fire's decay'd,
Still shews Adultress written on her front,
And, buoy'd by rank, audacious stands the brunt,
Virtue and chastity alike implore
Each honest pen that stubborn heart to gore.
Yet turn we now from her disgusting leer
To see the sprightly Bl*k**ys drawing near;
Than whom, to grace my biographic lay,
More pleasing forms I never can pourtray:
With all the elegance of fashion deck'd,
Nature still waits that fashion to direct;
Good-breeding there displays the power of art,
Simplicity preserves the goodness of their heart:
Each has its sway, and eulogy is lost,
To prize their wit, or love its manner most.
To see the sprightly Bl*k**ys drawing near;
Than whom, to grace my biographic lay,
More pleasing forms I never can pourtray:
With all the elegance of fashion deck'd,
Nature still waits that fashion to direct;
Good-breeding there displays the power of art,
Simplicity preserves the goodness of their heart:
Each has its sway, and eulogy is lost,
To prize their wit, or love its manner most.
What beau is that who flutters o'er the room,
As insects buzz around a honey-comb?
A matchless adept he appears to be
In smiling, bowing, and presenting tea;
Whisp'ring warm homage to a half-pleased miss,
And painting love in all its dying bliss.
Sons of Machaon, he belongs to you,
Though far the gayest of your tribe 'tis true:
Then who's surpris'd when Ramsgate nymphs are ill,
With such a charmer to present a pill?
The pretty fellow! and so good a heart!
He's rich, and his relations share a part;
For instance, when the dear delightful youth
Thinks that his coat begins to look uncouth,
He'll send it to his poor and aged s---,
And bid him wear it as his best attire.
Oh! to resound such merit, for a mouth
Of melody like thine, sweet Captain S****!
The dulcet sounds of whose harmonious throat
None so admire as him who croaks the note,
As him, who a militia ensign once,
Is now a captain dubb'd by his own tuneful sconce.
As insects buzz around a honey-comb?
A matchless adept he appears to be
In smiling, bowing, and presenting tea;
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And painting love in all its dying bliss.
Sons of Machaon, he belongs to you,
Though far the gayest of your tribe 'tis true:
Then who's surpris'd when Ramsgate nymphs are ill,
With such a charmer to present a pill?
The pretty fellow! and so good a heart!
He's rich, and his relations share a part;
For instance, when the dear delightful youth
Thinks that his coat begins to look uncouth,
He'll send it to his poor and aged s---,
And bid him wear it as his best attire.
Oh! to resound such merit, for a mouth
Of melody like thine, sweet Captain S****!
The dulcet sounds of whose harmonious throat
None so admire as him who croaks the note,
As him, who a militia ensign once,
Is now a captain dubb'd by his own tuneful sconce.
You see yon fair, attracting general gaze,
Whom Venus bids me paint in living lays;
Alas, to copy nature's proudest work,
To paint the cheek where countless beauties lurk,
Describe the locks that veil, and kiss that face,
Like a fair mead that shading woods embrace;
The lips to shew, where love his arrow dips,
The smile that wantons on those lovely lips.
The neck, by lily-handed Venus dress'd,
That curves and rises to the swelling breast;
To do all this—and in a verse express
An angel's figure in an earthly dress;
To bid Amelia's form in song to live,
And with that form her soul's soft trait to give;
How weak is art! from mimic skill exempt,
Nature steps forth, and frowns on the attempt:
The pencil drops, the hand in tremor falls,
And nature's frown the vain design recals.
Whom Venus bids me paint in living lays;
Alas, to copy nature's proudest work,
To paint the cheek where countless beauties lurk,
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Like a fair mead that shading woods embrace;
The lips to shew, where love his arrow dips,
The smile that wantons on those lovely lips.
The neck, by lily-handed Venus dress'd,
That curves and rises to the swelling breast;
To do all this—and in a verse express
An angel's figure in an earthly dress;
To bid Amelia's form in song to live,
And with that form her soul's soft trait to give;
How weak is art! from mimic skill exempt,
Nature steps forth, and frowns on the attempt:
The pencil drops, the hand in tremor falls,
And nature's frown the vain design recals.
You there perceive the pale Octavian sit;
He seems abstracted in a pensive fit.
Amid these scenes, that warm each lighter soul,
No soft sensations o'er his senses roll.
How chang'd are all those late gay features now!
Why does despondence thus o'ershade his brow?
Can you, ye soft affections, not disclose
From whence, from whom, the source of grief arose?
Ye fond effusions of the tender mind,
By honour cherish'd, and by love refin'd,
Can ye reveal what sadd'ning cause inspires,
Winds round his heart, and chills its warmest fires?
Bear it, blest hope, convey it on your wings,
And tell Amelia whence his sorrow springs;
Bid her dispel that sorrow, chase those fears,
Which wring his soul, and even force his tears:
Tell her his bosom, where her image reigns,
Though to repeat his vows the youth disdains;
Supports in agonizing thought, aside,
A doubtful struggle between love and pride:
Bid her to soar those pretty airs above,
And yield her softened soul to mutual love.
He seems abstracted in a pensive fit.
Amid these scenes, that warm each lighter soul,
No soft sensations o'er his senses roll.
How chang'd are all those late gay features now!
Why does despondence thus o'ershade his brow?
Can you, ye soft affections, not disclose
From whence, from whom, the source of grief arose?
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By honour cherish'd, and by love refin'd,
Can ye reveal what sadd'ning cause inspires,
Winds round his heart, and chills its warmest fires?
Bear it, blest hope, convey it on your wings,
And tell Amelia whence his sorrow springs;
Bid her dispel that sorrow, chase those fears,
Which wring his soul, and even force his tears:
Tell her his bosom, where her image reigns,
Though to repeat his vows the youth disdains;
Supports in agonizing thought, aside,
A doubtful struggle between love and pride:
Bid her to soar those pretty airs above,
And yield her softened soul to mutual love.
Oh, woman! would'st thou know the secret charm,
From which no spell the mind of man can arm?
Let thine eye beam with modesty's soft fear,
And yet be moisten'd by affection's tear;
Let thy cheek glow with innocence so white,
That heaven itself be jealous of the sight,
Yet still permit a tender conscious blush
That glow to soften, and that cheek to flush.
From which no spell the mind of man can arm?
Let thine eye beam with modesty's soft fear,
And yet be moisten'd by affection's tear;
Let thy cheek glow with innocence so white,
That heaven itself be jealous of the sight,
Yet still permit a tender conscious blush
That glow to soften, and that cheek to flush.
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But see accomplish'd S--- there appears,
Whose friendship was the charm of earlier years;
Whose gentler manners first my notice caught,
And first refin'd my giddy youthful thought:
And, as once more I view her, absent long,
What scenes of former joy on memory throng!
Of joy awaken'd on that much-loved spot,
Where first we met, and ne'er to be forgot;
'Ere I went forth to meet the world's rough cares,
Its hopes delusive, and its real fears,
To brave its frowns, detect its treach'rous smiles,
And walk secure amidst its latent guiles;
Check passion's impulse, fly each charm of sense,
And strive to keep unblemish'd pristine innocence.
Whose friendship was the charm of earlier years;
Whose gentler manners first my notice caught,
And first refin'd my giddy youthful thought:
And, as once more I view her, absent long,
What scenes of former joy on memory throng!
Of joy awaken'd on that much-loved spot,
Where first we met, and ne'er to be forgot;
'Ere I went forth to meet the world's rough cares,
Its hopes delusive, and its real fears,
To brave its frowns, detect its treach'rous smiles,
And walk secure amidst its latent guiles;
Check passion's impulse, fly each charm of sense,
And strive to keep unblemish'd pristine innocence.
And oft since duty's call, far far remov'd
The bard from those whom he rever'd and lov'd.
Oft, S---, have I grateful called to mind,
That anxious care, those admonitions kind;
Which warmth appeased, restrain'd aspiring pride,
And caus'd each rising tumult to subside;
Which taught me how to steer, nor taught in vain,
My little bark through life's tempestuous main,
From shipwreck how the batter'd vessel save,
Defy the winds, and stem the adverse wave;
The pilot's duty skilfully perform,
Surmount each peril, and outride each storm.
And though between us roll the boundless sea,
My thoughts K---*---*---* still shall turn to thee;
Where youth was treated with parental care,
Where first I flutter'd in poetic air,
Where first the rules of science I was taught,
Where first my soul the inspiration caught.
The bard from those whom he rever'd and lov'd.
Oft, S---, have I grateful called to mind,
That anxious care, those admonitions kind;
Which warmth appeased, restrain'd aspiring pride,
And caus'd each rising tumult to subside;
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My little bark through life's tempestuous main,
From shipwreck how the batter'd vessel save,
Defy the winds, and stem the adverse wave;
The pilot's duty skilfully perform,
Surmount each peril, and outride each storm.
And though between us roll the boundless sea,
My thoughts K---*---*---* still shall turn to thee;
Where youth was treated with parental care,
Where first I flutter'd in poetic air,
Where first the rules of science I was taught,
Where first my soul the inspiration caught.
But as remembrance these reflections wakes,
The muse of satire from her limits breaks,
Forgets that fools demand her weapon keen,
And dwells in fondness o'er the milder scene.
The muse of satire from her limits breaks,
Forgets that fools demand her weapon keen,
And dwells in fondness o'er the milder scene.
Yet 'tis no matter, for my task is o'er,
The clock strikes twelve, and they must dance no more:
For see, Le Bas the wonted signal makes,
And, like my song, the ball abruptly breaks.
Mute is all harmony, and each retires,
To live in dreams that Morpheus inspires:
My lady B--- to wield her vengeful arms
Gainst those who dar'd to slight her painted charms;
The Lady Bet her proud descent to blab,
A perfect honourable Miss Mac Tab,
Whisper her title with becoming grace,
And beg a guinea with a modest face:
Kill'em his own sweet person to approve,
And score each simper to a proof of love:
Ogle to count how many a whining fool
This night was pierc'd by glance she learn'd at school:
And I, my pen in Lethe's stream to steep,
To act my readers part and soundly sleep.
The clock strikes twelve, and they must dance no more:
For see, Le Bas the wonted signal makes,
And, like my song, the ball abruptly breaks.
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To live in dreams that Morpheus inspires:
My lady B--- to wield her vengeful arms
Gainst those who dar'd to slight her painted charms;
The Lady Bet her proud descent to blab,
A perfect honourable Miss Mac Tab,
Whisper her title with becoming grace,
And beg a guinea with a modest face:
Kill'em his own sweet person to approve,
And score each simper to a proof of love:
Ogle to count how many a whining fool
This night was pierc'd by glance she learn'd at school:
And I, my pen in Lethe's stream to steep,
To act my readers part and soundly sleep.
| Ball room votaries | |