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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| VIII. |
 | CHAPTER II. CHILDHOOD. The Dance of Life |  |
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Still with kind look, but graver mien,
In higher post, advanc'd, to bear
Th'important sway of household care.
Though with due thought and watchful eye
She did her various duties ply,
The Household Mistress ne'er forgot
What once had been her humble lot;
And oft her mem'ry did review
The time when she was Little Sue;
Happy that then she was approv'd:
But now respected, and belov'd.
—Thus Time mov'd on, nor did she know
The sense of pain, or throb of woe,
But when Death, by his stern decree,
Bore off some branch of that old tree,
Beneath whose shade, through every stage,
Her years roll'd on from youth to age.
Or when the Hatchment's dismal form
Shone in the Sun, or bore the storm;
As o'er the Mansion's high-wrought door
It told some valued Life was o'er.
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'Twas the third race that she had seen:
Grown old, and now a widow too,
She was indulg'd, and left to do
Whatever might her humour please,
And pass her time in aged ease.
—To her instruction was consign'd
The little Pupil's op'ning mind;
And, seated in her elbow chair,
She did that op'ning mind prepare
For some grave Tutor's future care.
But no harsh words were ever spoke,
No threat, but blended with a joke:
For Mamma's fondness had forbid
That Darling Harry should be chid.
So Cakes and Sweetmeats were prepar'd
His humour'd progress to reward.
—Still, though with this indulgence rear'd
Granny he, somehow lov'd and fear'd;
For by that fond, familiar name,
The Child had always call'd the Dame.
| CHAPTER II. CHILDHOOD. The Dance of Life | |