University of Virginia Library

Epistle FROM A LADY AT CHELTENHAM, TO HER SISTER IN THE COUNTRY.

Dear Bess, when I left you, I promised to write
An account of our doings each Saturday night;
And beginning with Monday, by sketches diurnal,
To give my epistles the form of a journal;
But spare me, dear sister, for here 'tis my fate
To be walking so early, and dancing so late;
Here's so much to be done, and so much to be said,
So much work for the heels (not to mention the head),
You must only expect an occasional scrawl,
And think you're well off to be noticed at all.
Oh! Betsey, I wish that my ink and my pen
Were fit to describe all the balls and the men:
The balls are exceedingly gay; but the fact is,
I know them as yet more by precept than practice;
For waltzing's the fashion, and that I confess
Is an art which at present I do not possess;
But a Dandy has offer'd to show me the way,
And appointed to give me a lesson to-day,
So you see I improve, for I'm learning already
To do giddy actions without being giddy.
What damsel would lavish her breath or her skill
On a dull country dance, or insipid quadrille;
I'm weary of both, and with languor I view
The formal precision of “En avant deux;”
Where they study their lessons with serious looks,
And often peep into their sly little books
Thus searching a volume when rather perplext,
To find illustrations of what should come next,
As if “chassez croisez” no man could succeed in
Without meditation, and very hard reading.
Whilst these duodecimo books I detest,
Country dances I think even worse than the rest;
Where unsociable space loving partners divides,
Who smile at each other from opposite sides;
And, instead of soft pressures and whispers seraphic
Their little endearments are all telegraphic:—
There you stand in a set of two dozen, and stop
Till some get to the bottom, and you to the top;
And when you are there the reward you obtain
Is to run down the middle, and run up again;
And then the vile ill-looking creatures, who stand
All eager in turn to take hold of your hand;
As you follow the leader through twenty or thirty;
With hands very warm, and with gloves very dirty.
But in waltzing you're join'd (as in marriage) to one
Who claims (or should claim) your attention alone;
Unless on the circle of gazers you glance,
Assured they are thinking how well you both dance.
In patent Kaleidoscopes all may discern
A novel attraction at every turn;
And every movement presents to the sight
A figure more perfect, a colour more bright;
But waltzing, though charming to those who can do it.
Is rather fatiguing to people who view it;
For though turns are incessant, no changes you meet.
But giddiness, bustle, embracing, and heat.
At first they move slowly, with caution and grace,
Like horses when just setting out on a race;
For dancers at balls, just like horses at races,
Must amble a little to show off their paces.
The music plays faster, their raptures begin,
Like lambkins they skip, like tetotums they spin:
Now draperies whirl, and now petticoats fly,
And ancles at least are exposed to the eye.
O'er the chalk-cover'd ball-room in circles they swim;
He smiles upon her, and she smiles upon him;
Her arm on his shoulder is tenderly placed,
His hand quite as tenderly circles her waist;
They still bear in mind, as they're turning each other,
The proverb “one good turn's deserving another;”
And these bodily turns often end, it is said,
In turning the lady's or gentleman's head.

POSTSCRIPT.