Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems by the late Thomas Haynes Bayly; Edited by his Widow. With A Memoir of the Author. In Two Volumes |
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I MUST AND WILL AN ACTRESS WED. |
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 | Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems |  |
I. I MUST AND WILL AN ACTRESS WED.
I must and will an actress wed,
She'll smile away all shadows;
The voice of Love is eloquent
In green-rooms—not green meadows:
Talk not of rural hills and vales,
They suit my optic sense ill,
The only scenery I prize
Is that of Stanfield's pencil!
She'll smile away all shadows;
The voice of Love is eloquent
In green-rooms—not green meadows:
Talk not of rural hills and vales,
They suit my optic sense ill,
The only scenery I prize
Is that of Stanfield's pencil!
The Earl, my father, storms at me,
And says it is a queer age,
When comic first appearances
At last lead to the peerage.
And my maternal Countess vows
That nothing can console her,
If I disgrace the family
By marrying a stroller!
And says it is a queer age,
When comic first appearances
At last lead to the peerage.
And my maternal Countess vows
That nothing can console her,
If I disgrace the family
By marrying a stroller!
But, oh! I'd scorn such prejudice,
Although 'twere universal;
For I have been behind the scenes
At night, and at rehearsal.
No titled heiress will I ask
To be my benefactress;
I'd rather elevate my wife,
So I will wed an actress.
Although 'twere universal;
For I have been behind the scenes
At night, and at rehearsal.
No titled heiress will I ask
To be my benefactress;
I'd rather elevate my wife,
So I will wed an actress.
23
Oh, first I burnt for tragic queens,
My passion scarce is cool yet;
I teased each Mrs. Beverley,
Euphrasia, and Juliet;
And if by Belvidera's frowns
A little disconcerted,
I flew to Mrs. Haller's side,
And at the wings I flirted.
My passion scarce is cool yet;
I teased each Mrs. Beverley,
Euphrasia, and Juliet;
And if by Belvidera's frowns
A little disconcerted,
I flew to Mrs. Haller's side,
And at the wings I flirted.
But Colonel Rant, (the gentleman
Who's always amateuring,)
Behind the scenes came every night
With language most alluring.
And he had such a way with him,
He won their hearts by magic,
So I resign'd Melpomene,
And Rant reigned o'er the tragic!
Who's always amateuring,)
Behind the scenes came every night
With language most alluring.
And he had such a way with him,
He won their hearts by magic,
So I resign'd Melpomene,
And Rant reigned o'er the tragic!
To Lady Bells and Teazles next
I turn'd—and Lady Rackets,
Who put their rouge and spirits on
(As boys put on their jackets);
Whose smiles, professionally sweet,
Appear when prompters summon;
Who keep, in fact, their bloom for best,
While sallow serves for common.
I turn'd—and Lady Rackets,
Who put their rouge and spirits on
(As boys put on their jackets);
Whose smiles, professionally sweet,
Appear when prompters summon;
Who keep, in fact, their bloom for best,
While sallow serves for common.
And then I sigh'd for the soubrettes
In aprons made with pockets,
Who frisk about the stage like squibs,
And then go off like rockets.
But at their beck I always found
Some beauteous Bob or Billy,
With whom they lightly tript away,
And left me looking silly.
In aprons made with pockets,
Who frisk about the stage like squibs,
And then go off like rockets.
But at their beck I always found
Some beauteous Bob or Billy,
With whom they lightly tript away,
And left me looking silly.
To prima donnas then I turn'd,
The Pollys and Mandanes;
Made love to she Don Carloses,
And female Don Giovannis!
But soon came one with higher notes—
They left me—allegretto!
They sought him—volti subito,
Forsaking me—falsetto!
The Pollys and Mandanes;
Made love to she Don Carloses,
And female Don Giovannis!
24
They left me—allegretto!
They sought him—volti subito,
Forsaking me—falsetto!
But now a love for figurantes
Within my bosom rankles,
I doat upon extended arms,
And sigh for well-turn'd ankles
Enchanting girls! how dark their hair!
How white and red their skin is!
I love them all—though wicked wits
May call them “spinning Jennies.”
Within my bosom rankles,
I doat upon extended arms,
And sigh for well-turn'd ankles
Enchanting girls! how dark their hair!
How white and red their skin is!
I love them all—though wicked wits
May call them “spinning Jennies.”
In Peter Wilkins I have sigh'd
For sylph-like forms, whose trade is
To hang suspended by the waist,
And act high-flying ladies.
The country curate may abuse
My loves, because they lack dress,
He'll choose a wife from private life;—
But I will wed an actress.
For sylph-like forms, whose trade is
To hang suspended by the waist,
And act high-flying ladies.
The country curate may abuse
My loves, because they lack dress,
He'll choose a wife from private life;—
But I will wed an actress.
| Songs, Ballads, and Other Poems | |