 | Rough Sketches of Bath, and Other Poems |  |
31
Epistle FROM Q. TO HIS SISTER JANE,
ON HIS ARRIVAL IN BATH.
At length, dearest Sister, I sit down to write
An account of our movements by day and by night;
My lodgings are small, but excessively neat,
And stand in a very respectable street;
And there from my windows without going out
I can see what the people of ton are about;
There snug and unseen I distinctly can trace
Each new variation of figure and face:
And there of a morning I sit, I confess,
And make memorandums on fashion and dress;
As the dandies pass by me, or lounge at a shop,
I take their dimensions from bottom to top,
With infinite pains I survey them, and note
Their looseness of manners, and tightness of coat;
I sketch every movement, each step, and each look,
And write them all down in a little blank book,
And then at my leisure I read them all over,
The requisite charms of a beau to discover;
I carefully view my collection of samples,
Extracting the first and most finished examples,—
The worst I reject, but the best I combine,
And form from their manners a model for mine.
An account of our movements by day and by night;
My lodgings are small, but excessively neat,
And stand in a very respectable street;
And there from my windows without going out
I can see what the people of ton are about;
There snug and unseen I distinctly can trace
Each new variation of figure and face:
And there of a morning I sit, I confess,
And make memorandums on fashion and dress;
As the dandies pass by me, or lounge at a shop,
I take their dimensions from bottom to top,
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Their looseness of manners, and tightness of coat;
I sketch every movement, each step, and each look,
And write them all down in a little blank book,
And then at my leisure I read them all over,
The requisite charms of a beau to discover;
I carefully view my collection of samples,
Extracting the first and most finished examples,—
The worst I reject, but the best I combine,
And form from their manners a model for mine.
By these common-place notes I contrive with great ease,
To make an appearance as gay as I please,
And thus (though a novice) I sometimes am drest
More delightfully odd and outré than the rest,
For while all are in search of new fancies, and each
Endeavours some new point of folly to reach,
One peep from my window's sufficient for me,
And I quickly monopolise all that I see;
Thus when I appear, and my toilet is done,
The charms of the million are centred in one.
Like Authors I've heard of, who flourish alone,
By passing off other men's thoughts as their own,
Who peep out like me, and as slily convey
Their second-hand verse in an under-hand way.
To make an appearance as gay as I please,
And thus (though a novice) I sometimes am drest
More delightfully odd and outré than the rest,
For while all are in search of new fancies, and each
Endeavours some new point of folly to reach,
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And I quickly monopolise all that I see;
Thus when I appear, and my toilet is done,
The charms of the million are centred in one.
Like Authors I've heard of, who flourish alone,
By passing off other men's thoughts as their own,
Who peep out like me, and as slily convey
Their second-hand verse in an under-hand way.
Thus you see, my dear Sister, I'm in a fair way
To rival the very first buck of the day,—
My idol is Fashion, and let them take heed,
Though I now follow others, ere long I may lead:
Though a copy at present, perhaps you may see
An original sample of folly in me,
When, laying my little blank book on the shelf,
I set up a pattern of manners myself.
To rival the very first buck of the day,—
My idol is Fashion, and let them take heed,
Though I now follow others, ere long I may lead:
Though a copy at present, perhaps you may see
An original sample of folly in me,
When, laying my little blank book on the shelf,
I set up a pattern of manners myself.
34
I also perceive, as I sit in my room,
The new importations of female costume;
I know when I left my paternal abode,
You thought yourself quite in the pink of the mode,
In fact it was treason in any to doubt it,—
But, permit me to say, you knew nothing about it.
The new importations of female costume;
I know when I left my paternal abode,
You thought yourself quite in the pink of the mode,
In fact it was treason in any to doubt it,—
But, permit me to say, you knew nothing about it.
You first must observe, it is proper to wear
A sort of plantation arranged in your hair:
At the balls and the plays all the Ladies I see,
Look exactly like Daphne turn'd into a tree:
How blest are the moments when Fashion allows
Fresh roses to bloom on a young Lady's brows;
It ever must sanction her smiles when she knows
That all her flirtations are under the rose.
A sort of plantation arranged in your hair:
At the balls and the plays all the Ladies I see,
Look exactly like Daphne turn'd into a tree:
How blest are the moments when Fashion allows
Fresh roses to bloom on a young Lady's brows;
It ever must sanction her smiles when she knows
That all her flirtations are under the rose.
Fashion changes each month, and new models her throng—
Now waists are all short, and then waists are all long;
Fresh wreaths in the garden of Fancy they cull—
Now dresses are scanty, and then they are full;
Unique compositions they eagerly view,
Exhausting old shapes, and imagining new;
And now all the damsels intend, I believe,
To try the costume of their grandmother Eve.
Now waists are all short, and then waists are all long;
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Now dresses are scanty, and then they are full;
Unique compositions they eagerly view,
Exhausting old shapes, and imagining new;
And now all the damsels intend, I believe,
To try the costume of their grandmother Eve.
But, belles, be advised, for 'tis folly to waste
These gratuitous sights upon men of no taste;
All beaux of discernment have now seen enough
Of the delicate white and the beautiful buff;
And when, for the good and amusement of man,
You strip your fair shoulders, and shew all you can,
We're really inclined to believe you deplore
That foolish decorum wont let you shew more;
And we often conclude, after all we have seen,
So much nature without shews the nature within.
These gratuitous sights upon men of no taste;
All beaux of discernment have now seen enough
Of the delicate white and the beautiful buff;
And when, for the good and amusement of man,
You strip your fair shoulders, and shew all you can,
We're really inclined to believe you deplore
That foolish decorum wont let you shew more;
And we often conclude, after all we have seen,
So much nature without shews the nature within.
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Oh, Woman!—by Nature ordain'd to bestow
Every joy that enlivens us pilgrims below;
Through life ever hovering near to assuage
The ills that assail us from boyhood to age;
In every affliction man's surest relief,—
In sickness his nurse, and his solace in grief;
When his spirit is clouded by error and shame,
Her tenderness still may the truant reclaim;
And he whom no threats and no terrors could move,
Will bow to the milder dominion of love.
Every joy that enlivens us pilgrims below;
Through life ever hovering near to assuage
The ills that assail us from boyhood to age;
In every affliction man's surest relief,—
In sickness his nurse, and his solace in grief;
When his spirit is clouded by error and shame,
Her tenderness still may the truant reclaim;
And he whom no threats and no terrors could move,
Will bow to the milder dominion of love.
In the realms of the gay we behold her advance,
All lightness and loveliness joining the dance;
But the revellers gone, in seclusion she moves,
Regardless of all save the one that she loves.
All lightness and loveliness joining the dance;
But the revellers gone, in seclusion she moves,
Regardless of all save the one that she loves.
Enchantress! adorn'd with attractions like these,
In mind and in person created to please;
Oh! why will you sully the charms you possess,
Instructing mankind how to worship you less,
Thus, perfect by Nature, can Fashion impart
One additional charm with the finger of art?
No—fruitless the search for fresh beauties must be,
While all that is beautiful centres in thee.
In mind and in person created to please;
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Instructing mankind how to worship you less,
Thus, perfect by Nature, can Fashion impart
One additional charm with the finger of art?
No—fruitless the search for fresh beauties must be,
While all that is beautiful centres in thee.
If still thou wouldst reign, and for ever receive
That homage which man is ambitious to give,
Oh! yield not to art's insignificant wiles,—
Be omnipotent only in dimples and smiles.
That homage which man is ambitious to give,
Oh! yield not to art's insignificant wiles,—
Be omnipotent only in dimples and smiles.
Perhaps, my dear Sister, you think I had better
Have spared this digression, and stuck to my letter:
But when woman's the theme you may surely excuse
The wildest career of a masculine Muse,—
'Tis the heart, not the judgment, that governs the pen,
When female perfections are painted by men.
Have spared this digression, and stuck to my letter:
But when woman's the theme you may surely excuse
The wildest career of a masculine Muse,—
'Tis the heart, not the judgment, that governs the pen,
When female perfections are painted by men.
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I know you will say I am very remiss,
For not having sent to you long before this;
But really this place is so charmingly gay,
What with dancing all night, promenading all day—
What with learning each new-fangled air to attain—
What with dressing, undressing, and dressing again,
And flirting with women, and lounging with men,
I have not had leisure to take up my pen.
For not having sent to you long before this;
But really this place is so charmingly gay,
What with dancing all night, promenading all day—
What with learning each new-fangled air to attain—
What with dressing, undressing, and dressing again,
And flirting with women, and lounging with men,
I have not had leisure to take up my pen.
I subscribe to a library, where I can look
In a new magazine, or a popular book;
And there all the Ladies and Gentlemen sit,
Surrounded by volumes of wisdom and wit;
But the wisdom and wit remain on the shelves,—
They seem not to covet an atom themselves:
The classics are lost on these babes in the wood,
How can they be relished when not understood?
The force of sound argument sets them to sleep.
For shallow capacities prose is too deep,
And poetry, too, no attention can call:—
Duodecimos, quartos, octavos, and all!
And Helicon's stream they untasted condemn,
As Lethe is far better suited to them.
Surveying the bindings, directed by chance,
They dip in a novel, or skim a romance;
Intellectual joys are undoubtedly felt,
When gazing on vellum, morocco, and gilt,
In a volume in boards no attractions are found—
Verse only can charm, when 'tis charmingly bound.
In a new magazine, or a popular book;
And there all the Ladies and Gentlemen sit,
Surrounded by volumes of wisdom and wit;
But the wisdom and wit remain on the shelves,—
They seem not to covet an atom themselves:
The classics are lost on these babes in the wood,
How can they be relished when not understood?
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For shallow capacities prose is too deep,
And poetry, too, no attention can call:—
Duodecimos, quartos, octavos, and all!
And Helicon's stream they untasted condemn,
As Lethe is far better suited to them.
Surveying the bindings, directed by chance,
They dip in a novel, or skim a romance;
Intellectual joys are undoubtedly felt,
When gazing on vellum, morocco, and gilt,
In a volume in boards no attractions are found—
Verse only can charm, when 'tis charmingly bound.
This beautiful city continues to fill,
And the routes, balls, and card parties multiply still,
And daily the pump-room arrival-book claims
A charming addition of elegant names.
No doubt you will wonder how strangers contrive
To collect crowds of visitors when they arrive;
But 'tis easily managed, provided they shine
With plenty of supper, and plenty of wine.
And let me assure you midst people of ton,
A score may as soon be collected, as one.
If a stranger is rich, he possesses the power
Of forming an intimate friend in an hour.
When first introduced, by some wonderful charm,
Men's affections are link'd, and they walk arm in arm,—
But no very lasting communion they seek,
They will probably cut at the end of the week;
Perhaps one (all tender emotions to smother)
With affectionate ardour will horsewhip the other,
Or each seek his friend, taking infinite pains,
By a lasting impression to blow out his brains.
And the routes, balls, and card parties multiply still,
And daily the pump-room arrival-book claims
A charming addition of elegant names.
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To collect crowds of visitors when they arrive;
But 'tis easily managed, provided they shine
With plenty of supper, and plenty of wine.
And let me assure you midst people of ton,
A score may as soon be collected, as one.
If a stranger is rich, he possesses the power
Of forming an intimate friend in an hour.
When first introduced, by some wonderful charm,
Men's affections are link'd, and they walk arm in arm,—
But no very lasting communion they seek,
They will probably cut at the end of the week;
Perhaps one (all tender emotions to smother)
With affectionate ardour will horsewhip the other,
Or each seek his friend, taking infinite pains,
By a lasting impression to blow out his brains.
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Whatever has novelty surely is best,
And friends need replacing as well as the rest;
When weary of one, we are certain to find
In a moment another that's more to our mind:
To tales of old friendships pray who will attend,
Since the older a thing is—the nearer its end?
And friends need replacing as well as the rest;
When weary of one, we are certain to find
In a moment another that's more to our mind:
To tales of old friendships pray who will attend,
Since the older a thing is—the nearer its end?
Perhaps, after this, you will not disapprove,
If I offer a few observations on love;
Not the rural delights of a mutual passion,
But what passes for love with people of fashion.
Most men will allow that no wife is the worse
For being possess'd of some cash in her purse;
But of beauties there must be a wonderful dearth,
If the weight of her riches can add to her worth.
All suitors at present appear to commence
A new mode of measuring beauty and sense,—
The woman no value on wealth can confer,
Since now 'tis the wealth that gives value to her:
Though the belles are delightful, in Bath, I am told,
That at present the real belle metal is gold.
In old-fashion'd times, I am told, it was common
For a man to be struck with the charms of a woman,
And next of her chattels he took an account,
And thus of their means ascertain'd the amount.
By a different method these things are now reckon'd,
The fortune comes first, and the woman comes second,—
And the fortune once gain'd, their regret would be small
If the woman were not to be thought of at all:
All love is absurd, and affection is stuff,
Any woman will do who is gilded enough:
Matrimonial forms they genteelly rehearse,
And he takes the Lady “for better for worse,”—
And whilst the word “better,” alludes to her pelf,
The second word “worse,” seems applied to herself.
If I offer a few observations on love;
Not the rural delights of a mutual passion,
But what passes for love with people of fashion.
Most men will allow that no wife is the worse
For being possess'd of some cash in her purse;
But of beauties there must be a wonderful dearth,
If the weight of her riches can add to her worth.
All suitors at present appear to commence
A new mode of measuring beauty and sense,—
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Since now 'tis the wealth that gives value to her:
Though the belles are delightful, in Bath, I am told,
That at present the real belle metal is gold.
In old-fashion'd times, I am told, it was common
For a man to be struck with the charms of a woman,
And next of her chattels he took an account,
And thus of their means ascertain'd the amount.
By a different method these things are now reckon'd,
The fortune comes first, and the woman comes second,—
And the fortune once gain'd, their regret would be small
If the woman were not to be thought of at all:
All love is absurd, and affection is stuff,
Any woman will do who is gilded enough:
Matrimonial forms they genteelly rehearse,
And he takes the Lady “for better for worse,”—
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The second word “worse,” seems applied to herself.
Entre nous, my dear sister, I'll venture to say,
When I wed, it shall be in a different way:
Those who marry for money, too often may prove
That their help-mates may afterwards wander for love.
And though love and short commons may make a man mad,
To me Doctors' Commons seem equally bad.
When I wed, it shall be in a different way:
Those who marry for money, too often may prove
That their help-mates may afterwards wander for love.
And though love and short commons may make a man mad,
To me Doctors' Commons seem equally bad.
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CARABOO.
Oh! aid me, ye spirits of wonder! who soar
In realms of Romance where none ventured before;
Ye Fairies! who govern the fancies of men,
And sit on the point of Monk Lewis's pen;
Ye mysterious Elves! who for ever remain
With Lusus Naturæs, and Ghosts of Cock-Lane;
Who ride upon broomsticks, intent to deceive
All those who appear predisposed to believe,
And softly repeat from your home in the spheres
Incredible stories to credulous ears;
With every thing marvellous, every thing new,
We'll trace a description of Miss Caraboo.
In realms of Romance where none ventured before;
Ye Fairies! who govern the fancies of men,
And sit on the point of Monk Lewis's pen;
Ye mysterious Elves! who for ever remain
With Lusus Naturæs, and Ghosts of Cock-Lane;
Who ride upon broomsticks, intent to deceive
All those who appear predisposed to believe,
And softly repeat from your home in the spheres
Incredible stories to credulous ears;
With every thing marvellous, every thing new,
We'll trace a description of Miss Caraboo.
Johanna's disciples, who piously came
To present babies' caps to the elderly dame,
Though all hopes of the virgin's accouchement is o'er,
Shall meet with the smile of derision no more;
Their wonders were weak, their credulity small—
Caraboo was engender'd by nothing at all!
And where did she come from?—and who can she be?
Did she fall from the sky?—did she rise from the sea?
A seraph of day, or a shadow of night?
Did she spring upon earth in a stream of gas-light?
Did she ride on the back of a fish, or sea-dog?
A spirit of health, or a devil incog.?
Was she wafted by winds over mountain and stream?
Was she borne to our isle by the impulse of steam?
Was she found in complete “fascination” elate?
Or discover'd at first in a chrysalis state?
Did some philosophic analysis draw
Her component degrees from some hot-water spa?
Did some chemical process occasion her birth?
Did galvanic experiments bring her on earth?
Is she new? is she old? is she false? is she true?
Come read me the riddle of Miss Caraboo.
To present babies' caps to the elderly dame,
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Shall meet with the smile of derision no more;
Their wonders were weak, their credulity small—
Caraboo was engender'd by nothing at all!
And where did she come from?—and who can she be?
Did she fall from the sky?—did she rise from the sea?
A seraph of day, or a shadow of night?
Did she spring upon earth in a stream of gas-light?
Did she ride on the back of a fish, or sea-dog?
A spirit of health, or a devil incog.?
Was she wafted by winds over mountain and stream?
Was she borne to our isle by the impulse of steam?
Was she found in complete “fascination” elate?
Or discover'd at first in a chrysalis state?
Did some philosophic analysis draw
Her component degrees from some hot-water spa?
Did some chemical process occasion her birth?
Did galvanic experiments bring her on earth?
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Come read me the riddle of Miss Caraboo.
Astronomers sage may exhibit her soon,
A daughter-in-law to the man in the moon;
Or declare that her visit accounts for the rain
Which happen'd last year, and may happen again;
That dark spots appear in the course she has run,
Coeval perhaps with the spots on the sun;
That she may be connected with Corsairs—all these,
And as many more possible things as you please.
A daughter-in-law to the man in the moon;
Or declare that her visit accounts for the rain
Which happen'd last year, and may happen again;
That dark spots appear in the course she has run,
Coeval perhaps with the spots on the sun;
That she may be connected with Corsairs—all these,
And as many more possible things as you please.
In what hand does she write?—In what tongue does she speak?
Is it Arabic, Persic, Egyptian, or Greek?
She must be a blue-stocking lady indeed,
To write an epistle which no man can read;
Though we have some publishing scribes I could name,
Whose letters will meet with a fate much the same.
Is it Arabic, Persic, Egyptian, or Greek?
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To write an epistle which no man can read;
Though we have some publishing scribes I could name,
Whose letters will meet with a fate much the same.
She then wore no ear-rings, though still may be seen
The holes in her ears, where her ear-rings had been;
Leathern shoes on her feet, a black shawl round her hair,
And of black worsted stockings an elegant pair;
Her gown was black stuff, and my readers may guess
If her story contains as much stuff as her dress.
The holes in her ears, where her ear-rings had been;
Leathern shoes on her feet, a black shawl round her hair,
And of black worsted stockings an elegant pair;
Her gown was black stuff, and my readers may guess
If her story contains as much stuff as her dress.
Of the famed Indian Jugglers we all must have heard,
Who, to gain a subsistence, would swallow a sword;
But men (without proof) who believe tales like these,
Will undoubtedly swallow whatever you please.
Who, to gain a subsistence, would swallow a sword;
But men (without proof) who believe tales like these,
Will undoubtedly swallow whatever you please.
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I have heard those who thought that she wish'd to deceive,
After seeing her person have learn'd to believe;
Even those who have doubted the truth of her case,
Have forgotten their doubts when they look'd in her face.
I never have seen her; but if when I see,
The truth of her tale is apparent to me,
I will cancel these lines, and most gladly rehearse
Her swimming and fencing in beautiful verse;
In the graces and charms of my muse to adorn her,
Shall be the employment of
After seeing her person have learn'd to believe;
Even those who have doubted the truth of her case,
Have forgotten their doubts when they look'd in her face.
I never have seen her; but if when I see,
The truth of her tale is apparent to me,
I will cancel these lines, and most gladly rehearse
Her swimming and fencing in beautiful verse;
In the graces and charms of my muse to adorn her,
Shall be the employment of
Q. in the Corner.
This and other passages, which may now appear abstruse, allude to some of the profound and ingenious surmises of the learned men who endeavoured, by word of mouth, as well as by word of pen, to establish the authenticity of the statements of Princess Caraboo, alias Mrs. Mary Baker.
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Epistle FROM MASTER CAUSTON, THE FORTUNATE YOUTH, TO MISS CARABOO, IN AMERICA.
My dearest Princess, my beloved Caraboo!
Believe me, my heart is devoted to you.
We are form'd to unite, we are birds of a feather,—
Our minds must have surely been moulded together;
Then credit my tale, and rely on its truth,
And Fortune will smile on the Fortunate Youth;
My hopes will be crush'd, and my brain will be frantic,
Unless you permit me to cross the Atlantic.
Believe me, my heart is devoted to you.
We are form'd to unite, we are birds of a feather,—
Our minds must have surely been moulded together;
Then credit my tale, and rely on its truth,
And Fortune will smile on the Fortunate Youth;
My hopes will be crush'd, and my brain will be frantic,
Unless you permit me to cross the Atlantic.
But first you will doubtless expect me to name
The deeds upon which I establish my claim,
Those accomplish'd deceits of the tongue and the pen,
Which have dazzled the judgments of women and men;
Those talents which make me so bold as to sue
For the hand and affections of Miss Caraboo.
You must know I invented a plausible tale
Respecting a trip in the Shrewsbury mail,
And an elderly gentleman meeting me there,
Who gave me his chattels and made me his heir.
My wealth was enormous—estates I possess'd
In the north, in the south, in the east, in the west;
My arable lands did all others surpass,
And my silver and gold nearly equal'd my brass;
My credit was great, though so strange my account,
The world gave me credit to any amount;
And the fame of my acres so far did extend
That no one could calculate where they would end.
I mortgages claim'd too, on many pretences,
And those who believed must have mortgaged their senses;
Perhaps they imagined my talents were such,
I, like Midas, could magnify gold with a touch;
Or supposed, when my wonderful story was known,
Its foundation was on the Philosopher's Stone.
The deeds upon which I establish my claim,
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Which have dazzled the judgments of women and men;
Those talents which make me so bold as to sue
For the hand and affections of Miss Caraboo.
You must know I invented a plausible tale
Respecting a trip in the Shrewsbury mail,
And an elderly gentleman meeting me there,
Who gave me his chattels and made me his heir.
My wealth was enormous—estates I possess'd
In the north, in the south, in the east, in the west;
My arable lands did all others surpass,
And my silver and gold nearly equal'd my brass;
My credit was great, though so strange my account,
The world gave me credit to any amount;
And the fame of my acres so far did extend
That no one could calculate where they would end.
I mortgages claim'd too, on many pretences,
And those who believed must have mortgaged their senses;
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I, like Midas, could magnify gold with a touch;
Or supposed, when my wonderful story was known,
Its foundation was on the Philosopher's Stone.
What is strange, though they all had been cheated by you,
I trod in your footsteps and cheated them too;
And though of our separate plans they complain,
As Partners, ere long, we may cheat them again;
For believe me, my dear, I'm convinced if you chose
To pretend you could see through the tip of your nose,
'Tis certain, their stock of discretion's so small,
They'd be led by the nose, and would credit it all.
Though my lucrative schemes are discover'd at last,
Though the days of my splendid delusions are past;
Though the Cheques on my Banker no longer appear,—
As my Banker unluckily check'd my career;
Though neither my cash nor my acres remain,
Oh! turn not away from my suit with disdain;
Together, our moments can never be rough,
Our wits, without doubt, will be fortune enough.
Besides, there are some mighty men in the land
Who always take suffering worth by the hand;
Of course they'll assist us, for since it is known
They have raised a subscription for good Mr. Hone,
Let's be easy, my dear, there'll surely be one
To recompense us for the good we have done;
In praise of our virtue they'll make long orations,
And, what is much better, produce large donations;
And whilst all our manifold claims they're disclosing,
They may swear that our virtues were very imposing.
I trod in your footsteps and cheated them too;
And though of our separate plans they complain,
As Partners, ere long, we may cheat them again;
For believe me, my dear, I'm convinced if you chose
To pretend you could see through the tip of your nose,
'Tis certain, their stock of discretion's so small,
They'd be led by the nose, and would credit it all.
Though my lucrative schemes are discover'd at last,
Though the days of my splendid delusions are past;
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As my Banker unluckily check'd my career;
Though neither my cash nor my acres remain,
Oh! turn not away from my suit with disdain;
Together, our moments can never be rough,
Our wits, without doubt, will be fortune enough.
Besides, there are some mighty men in the land
Who always take suffering worth by the hand;
Of course they'll assist us, for since it is known
They have raised a subscription for good Mr. Hone,
Let's be easy, my dear, there'll surely be one
To recompense us for the good we have done;
In praise of our virtue they'll make long orations,
And, what is much better, produce large donations;
And whilst all our manifold claims they're disclosing,
They may swear that our virtues were very imposing.
For the present, farewell;—and believe, I remain
Both now and for ever—Your Dutiful Swain.
Both now and for ever—Your Dutiful Swain.
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Imitations of Horace.
FASHION.
IMITATION OF HORACE—ODE I. BOOK I.
“Mæcenas, atavis edite regibus.”
Hail, Fashion! gay, capricious dame!
Past ages have revered thy name,
And humbly bent before thee;
And belles and beaux, in embryo now,
Before thy magic shrine shall bow,
And bucks unborn adore thee.
Past ages have revered thy name,
And humbly bent before thee;
And belles and beaux, in embryo now,
Before thy magic shrine shall bow,
And bucks unborn adore thee.
How many varied joys delight
Thy subjects, morning, noon, and night,
And make their moments pleasant:
With boots and military heels,
Some love to guide their tandem wheels,
And dash along the Crescent.
Thy subjects, morning, noon, and night,
And make their moments pleasant:
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Some love to guide their tandem wheels,
And dash along the Crescent.
This, fill'd with dreams of pomp and pride,
Hopes to become a noble bride,
And scorns plebeian offers;
That proves himself a rogue in grain,
And toils for ever to obtain
Fresh gold to fill his coffers.
Hopes to become a noble bride,
And scorns plebeian offers;
That proves himself a rogue in grain,
And toils for ever to obtain
Fresh gold to fill his coffers.
Another shuns the busy throng,
And seeks for happiness among
Paternal goods and chattels;
He never joins the herd who flock,
To gaze upon the Pump-Room clock,
And talk of balls and battles.
And seeks for happiness among
Paternal goods and chattels;
He never joins the herd who flock,
To gaze upon the Pump-Room clock,
And talk of balls and battles.
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The merchant dreads the stormy seas,
Commends tranquillity and ease,
'Till brighter beams are shining;
Then spreads his canvass to the wind,
Trusting in future years to find
For canvass bags a lining.
Commends tranquillity and ease,
'Till brighter beams are shining;
Then spreads his canvass to the wind,
Trusting in future years to find
For canvass bags a lining.
Some to the York Hotel resort,
And drown their cares in sparkling port,
For recreation seeking;
There talk of politics and dress—
At length grown weary of excess,
Break up—when day is breaking.
And drown their cares in sparkling port,
For recreation seeking;
There talk of politics and dress—
At length grown weary of excess,
Break up—when day is breaking.
One loves the trumpet's martial note,
And pants for pantaloons and coat,
Cut à la regimental;
Buys a barouche and chesnut steeds,—
Plays high—talks low—and never heeds
Anxieties parental.
And pants for pantaloons and coat,
Cut à la regimental;
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Plays high—talks low—and never heeds
Anxieties parental.
Of lyric inspiration proud,
I envy not the motley crowd—
Contented with my station;
While others dream of Hessian boots,
And choose the most prevailing suits,
I suit my inclination.
I envy not the motley crowd—
Contented with my station;
While others dream of Hessian boots,
And choose the most prevailing suits,
I suit my inclination.
Careless of sneers and critic rods,
My Muse shall raise me to the gods,
Above all earthly evil;
I'll neither dress, nor write by rule,
But be content to play the fool,
While others play the devil.
My Muse shall raise me to the gods,
Above all earthly evil;
I'll neither dress, nor write by rule,
But be content to play the fool,
While others play the devil.
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TO ORLANDO.
IMITATION OF HORACE—BOOK I. ODE IV.
“Solvitur acris hyems, grata vice veris et Favoni.”
The triumph of winter is o'er,
And spring re-illumines the plain
The breezes are balmy once more;
Adieu to the wind and the rain.
The Pump-Room attraction now ceases,
For Fashion no more lingers there;
The fair ones throw off their pelisses,
And cooler apparel prepare.
And spring re-illumines the plain
The breezes are balmy once more;
Adieu to the wind and the rain.
The Pump-Room attraction now ceases,
For Fashion no more lingers there;
The fair ones throw off their pelisses,
And cooler apparel prepare.
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Orlando! let's rove to the Crescent,—
Nay, frown not, let's hasten along;
To you it may surely prove pleasant,
Since Lucy enlivens the throng;
In Sydney Vauxhall, with your Venus,
The bustle of Bond-Street we'll shun,
Whilst pendant laburnums shall screen us
Awhile from the heat of the sun.
Nay, frown not, let's hasten along;
To you it may surely prove pleasant,
Since Lucy enlivens the throng;
In Sydney Vauxhall, with your Venus,
The bustle of Bond-Street we'll shun,
Whilst pendant laburnums shall screen us
Awhile from the heat of the sun.
Death knocks at the door of the cottage,
Or shatters the loftier gate,
And kicks down a pipkin of pottage,
As well as a service of plate.
Then surely, ye gods, 'tis a merit
To sing whilst possessing a rag,—
That mortal may soon be a spirit,
Who suffers his spirits to flag.
Or shatters the loftier gate,
And kicks down a pipkin of pottage,
As well as a service of plate.
Then surely, ye gods, 'tis a merit
To sing whilst possessing a rag,—
That mortal may soon be a spirit,
Who suffers his spirits to flag.
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Oh! happy Orlando, remember
Our span of existence is brief;
Soon April gives place to December,
And joy yields the sceptre to grief.
The heat now beginning to heighten,
Too soon shall the gay ones repair
To Scarborough, Weymouth, and Brighton,
All dying for want of sea air.
Our span of existence is brief;
Soon April gives place to December,
And joy yields the sceptre to grief.
The heat now beginning to heighten,
Too soon shall the gay ones repair
To Scarborough, Weymouth, and Brighton,
All dying for want of sea air.
Ah! surely, my friend, 'twill distress you,
To rove through the city alone:
How soon will blue devils oppress you,
When Lucy, your angel, is gone.
Then do not anticipate sorrow;
My friend, whilst we can, let's be gay;
Let us share (since joy leaves us to-morrow)
A double proportion to-day.
To rove through the city alone:
How soon will blue devils oppress you,
When Lucy, your angel, is gone.
Then do not anticipate sorrow;
My friend, whilst we can, let's be gay;
Let us share (since joy leaves us to-morrow)
A double proportion to-day.
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TO LAURA.
IMITATION OF HORACE—BOOK I. ODE V.
“Quis Malta gracilis te puer in rosa.”
Laura! what youth with passion warm
Now madly gazes on thy form,
And loads thee with caresses?
Who now adores those locks of gold,
And thinks thee not of mortal mould,
Whilst paying his addresses?
Now madly gazes on thy form,
And loads thee with caresses?
Who now adores those locks of gold,
And thinks thee not of mortal mould,
Whilst paying his addresses?
Alas! how soon shall he deplore,
When these fair features smile no more,
And jealous cares environ,
Thy perfidy which caused his fall;
For locks of gold can sure enthrall,
As well as locks of iron.
When these fair features smile no more,
And jealous cares environ,
Thy perfidy which caused his fall;
For locks of gold can sure enthrall,
As well as locks of iron.
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Fond youth! you think her kind and true;
Alas! these thoughts will prove to you
But unsubstantial bubbles;
From dimpled cheeks no smiles I crave,
For well I know that passion's wave
Oft proves a sea of troubles.
Alas! these thoughts will prove to you
But unsubstantial bubbles;
From dimpled cheeks no smiles I crave,
For well I know that passion's wave
Oft proves a sea of troubles.
62
IMITATION OF HORACE;
BOOK I. ODE XI.
“Tu ne quæsieris scire (nefas) quem mihi quem tibi.”
Oh! seek not (what none are permitted to see)
How long life shall linger with you or with me;
Believe not in those who the future explain,
And calculate moments of pleasure and pain.
Life is stormy—but why should we lengthen the list,
By thinking of storms which may never exist?
Far wiser are those who, with fortitude blest,
Though prepared for the worst can still hope for the best;
If years should be added to those that are past,
Or if this which is fleeting should number your last,—
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But let not life's dawning embitter its close;
E'en now whilst I'm speaking the moments decay,
And since thus in succession they wither away,
Seize the joys of the present—'tis folly to borrow
One pang from the ills that may happen to-morrow.
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A POET'S LICENCE.
You say my harp delights to dwell
On melancholy themes alone;
And you suspect the tales I tell
Must flow from sorrows of my own.
On melancholy themes alone;
And you suspect the tales I tell
Must flow from sorrows of my own.
But when a lover's griefs intrude,
Place not implicit faith on those;
A Poet's licence may include
Many imaginary woes.
Place not implicit faith on those;
A Poet's licence may include
Many imaginary woes.
Though love at times has power to vex,—
My roving heart is fix'd on none;
I've too much love for all the sex
To be accused of loving one.
My roving heart is fix'd on none;
I've too much love for all the sex
To be accused of loving one.
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FAREWELL.
Farewell to thee,—maid of my heart,—
Dear Ellen, for ever adieu;
Oh! may you ne'er suffer the pangs you impart
To a bosom devoted to you.
Dear Ellen, for ever adieu;
Oh! may you ne'er suffer the pangs you impart
To a bosom devoted to you.
Farewell! could my wishes prevail,
Alas! they would prompt me to stay;
But you have decreed it—you wish for the gale
Which must waft me for ever away.
Alas! they would prompt me to stay;
But you have decreed it—you wish for the gale
Which must waft me for ever away.
You say, when you wish me removed,
That absence my sorrows will heal;
Ah! this is a proof that you never have loved.
Or felt the sensations I feel.
That absence my sorrows will heal;
Ah! this is a proof that you never have loved.
Or felt the sensations I feel.
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Had you loved—you would surely have found
That absence but strengthens the chain:
Though far from the shaft that inflicted a wound,
Say—does not the venom remain?
That absence but strengthens the chain:
Though far from the shaft that inflicted a wound,
Say—does not the venom remain?
You would know that the victim of love
No respite from sorrow can find;
His form to a far distant country may rove,
But he leaves his affections behind.
No respite from sorrow can find;
His form to a far distant country may rove,
But he leaves his affections behind.
It is not a place or a scene
Can constitute pleasure alone;
The heart must bear with it a comfort within,
And a blissful abode of its own.
Can constitute pleasure alone;
The heart must bear with it a comfort within,
And a blissful abode of its own.
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THE DANDIES OF THE PRESENT, AND THE MACARONIES OF THE PAST.
When men some shining excellence possess,
In mind or form, in faculties or dress;
Their just pre-eminence is apt to raise
The world's ill-nature, rather than its praise:
Envy pursues their progress, if their plan
Adorns the inward or the outward man;
Though actions may be blameless, still some blame
May slyly wound the source from whence they came;
If in the cause no errors they detect,
Abuse may still be aim'd at the effect:
When both are perfect, a satiric sneer
May make approval secretly severe;
'Tis sweet to praise, but sweeter to pursue
Conceal'd defects, and drag them forth to view.
Thus military men, whose deeds of arms
Rescued the countrymen from war's alarms;
The danger past, these rescued rogues unite,
And grieve their rescue was not managed right;
And prattle on their sofas, one by one,
Of what they did, and what they might have done.
In mind or form, in faculties or dress;
Their just pre-eminence is apt to raise
The world's ill-nature, rather than its praise:
Envy pursues their progress, if their plan
Adorns the inward or the outward man;
Though actions may be blameless, still some blame
May slyly wound the source from whence they came;
If in the cause no errors they detect,
Abuse may still be aim'd at the effect:
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May make approval secretly severe;
'Tis sweet to praise, but sweeter to pursue
Conceal'd defects, and drag them forth to view.
Thus military men, whose deeds of arms
Rescued the countrymen from war's alarms;
The danger past, these rescued rogues unite,
And grieve their rescue was not managed right;
And prattle on their sofas, one by one,
Of what they did, and what they might have done.
And thus (oh, more severe!) the Dandy clan,
Those sweet refinements of the race of man,
Who place on outward gloss their whole reliance,
Who make their smiles an art, their dress a science;
Who toil themselves, that others may be blest
In looking at their pretty forms when drest:
These, in their turn, are slander'd, (injured race!)
And e'en their graces blamed as a disgrace.
And what is their offence?—must they be chid
For doing what their fathers freely did?
Dandy and Macaroni are the same,
Alike in all respects except the name;
The service is unchanged, though it may be
They labour in another livery:
But take a calf, and dress it how you will,
The calf will be the self-same creature still.
Those sweet refinements of the race of man,
Who place on outward gloss their whole reliance,
Who make their smiles an art, their dress a science;
Who toil themselves, that others may be blest
In looking at their pretty forms when drest:
These, in their turn, are slander'd, (injured race!)
And e'en their graces blamed as a disgrace.
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For doing what their fathers freely did?
Dandy and Macaroni are the same,
Alike in all respects except the name;
The service is unchanged, though it may be
They labour in another livery:
But take a calf, and dress it how you will,
The calf will be the self-same creature still.
In days of yore, youths understood the art
Of looking fashionable, gay, and smart;
And had the title “Dandy” then been known,
They might have fairly claimed it as their own.
The ample frill of the embroider'd shirt;
The velvet coat's enormity of skirt;
The ruffled wrists; the lace-trimm'd lawn cravat;
The triple corners of the huge cock'd hat;
The spacious waistcoat, which (we thank our stays)
Would cut up into six in modern days;
The buckles which on knees and shoes were placed,
Immense machines composed of costly paste.
Of looking fashionable, gay, and smart;
And had the title “Dandy” then been known,
They might have fairly claimed it as their own.
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The velvet coat's enormity of skirt;
The ruffled wrists; the lace-trimm'd lawn cravat;
The triple corners of the huge cock'd hat;
The spacious waistcoat, which (we thank our stays)
Would cut up into six in modern days;
The buckles which on knees and shoes were placed,
Immense machines composed of costly paste.
And next the head! ye gods, what labour then
To beautify the heads of mortal men!
First came pomatum breathing sweet perfume,
And pounds of powder flying o'er the room;
One skilful artist (haply more than one)
Had much employment ere the work was done:
The irons hiss'd, and round about their ears,
Stiff tortured curls arose in even tiers;
And, lest in fascination curls should fail,
Tradition tells us thereby hung a tail.
Twas thus our fathers' heads enormous rose;—
“Hide your diminish'd heads,” ye modern beaux.
Stupendous men! methinks I see them now,
Erect in walk, but most profound in bow:
Were they permitted to revisit earth,
And view the realm of all their former mirth,
They'd stare to see the changes there have been,
Since they perform'd their parts in fashion's scene:
How they would scorn the dancers, who forget
The measured movements of the minuet!
Who dress'd in trowsers, more surprising still!
Whirl in a waltz, or glide through a quadrille:
They'd find it difficult to comprehend
The body stooping in the Grecian bend;
The careless lounge of dislocated hips,
And chins in a perpetual eclipse.
To beautify the heads of mortal men!
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And pounds of powder flying o'er the room;
One skilful artist (haply more than one)
Had much employment ere the work was done:
The irons hiss'd, and round about their ears,
Stiff tortured curls arose in even tiers;
And, lest in fascination curls should fail,
Tradition tells us thereby hung a tail.
Twas thus our fathers' heads enormous rose;—
“Hide your diminish'd heads,” ye modern beaux.
Stupendous men! methinks I see them now,
Erect in walk, but most profound in bow:
Were they permitted to revisit earth,
And view the realm of all their former mirth,
They'd stare to see the changes there have been,
Since they perform'd their parts in fashion's scene:
How they would scorn the dancers, who forget
The measured movements of the minuet!
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Whirl in a waltz, or glide through a quadrille:
They'd find it difficult to comprehend
The body stooping in the Grecian bend;
The careless lounge of dislocated hips,
And chins in a perpetual eclipse.
But not alone do dress and gesture change,
We've other transformations quite as strange;
Were they on earth, with what surprise they'd see
Men walking aided by machinery—
Moving with vast velocity and force,
Each on his ambulating hobby-horse!
We've other transformations quite as strange;
Were they on earth, with what surprise they'd see
Men walking aided by machinery—
Moving with vast velocity and force,
Each on his ambulating hobby-horse!
All have their hobbies—those who cannot pay
For riding in a gig, or one-horse chay,
May now bestride an inoffensive steed,
Take to their wheels and move with wondrous speed—
On level-ground, or down a smooth descent,
Securely glide, nor fear an accident;
And when a rising hill obstructs their course,
Upon their shoulders carry up the horse.
Sublime invention! swiftly thus we run
From scolding wife or unrelenting dun:
Talk not of racers, tits, and bits of blood,
We ride on metal steeds, and bits of wood.
For riding in a gig, or one-horse chay,
May now bestride an inoffensive steed,
Take to their wheels and move with wondrous speed—
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Securely glide, nor fear an accident;
And when a rising hill obstructs their course,
Upon their shoulders carry up the horse.
Sublime invention! swiftly thus we run
From scolding wife or unrelenting dun:
Talk not of racers, tits, and bits of blood,
We ride on metal steeds, and bits of wood.
Our Theatres and Ball-Rooms far surpass
Those of past times in magnitude and gas:
The excellence of gas no youth can doubt,
So soon illumined, and so soon put out;
And beaux and belles well know that none can mark
A kiss bestow'd or taken—in the dark.
Those of past times in magnitude and gas:
The excellence of gas no youth can doubt,
So soon illumined, and so soon put out;
And beaux and belles well know that none can mark
A kiss bestow'd or taken—in the dark.
Could I command a muse who would not spoil it,
My subject now should be the Dandy's toilet:
The modern Dandy, that divine unique,
Perfumed with lavender and huile antique;
His stays—(oh! fye, that term should not be heard)
His riding-belt—(aye, that's the proper word);
His padded coat, in which he seems to ape
A wet-nurse's rotundity of shape;
His tight pelisse, with silken lining's graced;
His trowsers puff'd and plaited at the waist:
But hold!—why thus, whilst outward graces please,
Should we explore his hidden mysteries?
No, let us gaze with rapture when he's dress'd,
But let expressive silence speak the rest.
My subject now should be the Dandy's toilet:
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Perfumed with lavender and huile antique;
His stays—(oh! fye, that term should not be heard)
His riding-belt—(aye, that's the proper word);
His padded coat, in which he seems to ape
A wet-nurse's rotundity of shape;
His tight pelisse, with silken lining's graced;
His trowsers puff'd and plaited at the waist:
But hold!—why thus, whilst outward graces please,
Should we explore his hidden mysteries?
No, let us gaze with rapture when he's dress'd,
But let expressive silence speak the rest.
All men are Dandies, not perhaps in dress,
But all some Dandy qualities possess;
Some youths there are, professing to despise
Fashion's excess and town frivolities,
Who trudge with unpremeditated march,
In pudding neckcloths, innocent of starch;
With beavers badly made, and badly placed,
And obsoletest longitude of waist;
Yet these good folks, dissemble as they may,
Have Dandy notions in their own snug way.
But all some Dandy qualities possess;
Some youths there are, professing to despise
Fashion's excess and town frivolities,
Who trudge with unpremeditated march,
In pudding neckcloths, innocent of starch;
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And obsoletest longitude of waist;
Yet these good folks, dissemble as they may,
Have Dandy notions in their own snug way.
Some show them in their villas, gardens, grounds,
Furniture, horses, equipage, or hounds;
Some in their books, and though not gay themselves,
With gilded bindings ornament their shelves;
And things like these the coxcomb may denote,
As well as starch'd cravat or Dandy coat.
Furniture, horses, equipage, or hounds;
Some in their books, and though not gay themselves,
With gilded bindings ornament their shelves;
And things like these the coxcomb may denote,
As well as starch'd cravat or Dandy coat.
Hail, race of Dandies! though condemn'd by some:
Hail, sparkling race, past, present, and to come!
All hail to those who, many years ago,
Appear'd full dressed, and every inch the beau;
Who flocked, at half-past six, to Drury-lane,
With spruce chapeau and golden-headed cane,
To see immortal Garrick playing Richard;
To gaze at Mistress Yates or Mistress Pritchard;
Charm'd with each look, attentive to each word—
(For then looks could be seen, and voices heard).
Hail, sparkling race, past, present, and to come!
All hail to those who, many years ago,
Appear'd full dressed, and every inch the beau;
Who flocked, at half-past six, to Drury-lane,
With spruce chapeau and golden-headed cane,
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To gaze at Mistress Yates or Mistress Pritchard;
Charm'd with each look, attentive to each word—
(For then looks could be seen, and voices heard).
And hail to those, who now more degagé,
In long loose trowsers saunter to the play;
But not at vulgar hours—at eight they dine.
And reach the lobbies about half-past nine;
Then in the boxes, they with much ado
On tip-toe gain a slight perspective view;
And e'en when out of hearing, seem to feel,
Dying with Kean, and fainting with O'Neil.
In long loose trowsers saunter to the play;
But not at vulgar hours—at eight they dine.
And reach the lobbies about half-past nine;
Then in the boxes, they with much ado
On tip-toe gain a slight perspective view;
And e'en when out of hearing, seem to feel,
Dying with Kean, and fainting with O'Neil.
And hail to those, whose embryo career
Shall charm the fair ones of some future year;
Who, whilst some tutor's mandate they obey,
Are all “in arms, and eager for the fray.”
Shall charm the fair ones of some future year;
Who, whilst some tutor's mandate they obey,
Are all “in arms, and eager for the fray.”
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And hail ye tutors! scientific teachers,
Renown'd as schoolmen, sportsmen, fops, and preachers,
Who, paid by fathers, teach their hopeful sons
The eligible use of dogs and guns;
And, shots yourselves, still aid your loved pursuit,
And “teach the young idea how to shoot.”
Renown'd as schoolmen, sportsmen, fops, and preachers,
Who, paid by fathers, teach their hopeful sons
The eligible use of dogs and guns;
And, shots yourselves, still aid your loved pursuit,
And “teach the young idea how to shoot.”
Ye belles! whose sweet society refines
The native roughness of us masculines;
Whenever noble objects we pursue,
The inspiration is received from you:
Without your charms the world were unenjoy'd,
Life were a dull uninteresting void;
Without the spirit which your smile imparts
We were indeed unworthy of your hearts.
The native roughness of us masculines;
Whenever noble objects we pursue,
The inspiration is received from you:
Without your charms the world were unenjoy'd,
Life were a dull uninteresting void;
Without the spirit which your smile imparts
We were indeed unworthy of your hearts.
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Oh! may you all be blest, where'er you move,
Each, with the sort of man you most approve;
May sweet Arcadian nymphs in rural plains
Live snug and quiet with Arcadian swains;
Delight to shun the busy haunts of men,
Get up at six, and go to bed at ten.
May fashionable belles in town be blest
With those who suit them most and love them best;
Those youths, for ever ready at a ball
To seek a carriage or adjust a shawl;
Who stand behind pianos, and discern
The very moment when the leaves should turn;
Who always dance quadrilles, and know the way
To talk incessantly with nought to say;
Who pay long morning visits, and discourse
Upon the best formation of a purse;
Or spend the day—all other aims forgotten,
In drawing patterns, or in winding cotton.
Surely, ye fair, devoted slaves like these,
In word, or deed, can never fail to please;
And call them Dandy—Macaroni—Beau,
Or what you will;—'twas you that made them so.
Each, with the sort of man you most approve;
May sweet Arcadian nymphs in rural plains
Live snug and quiet with Arcadian swains;
Delight to shun the busy haunts of men,
Get up at six, and go to bed at ten.
May fashionable belles in town be blest
With those who suit them most and love them best;
Those youths, for ever ready at a ball
To seek a carriage or adjust a shawl;
Who stand behind pianos, and discern
The very moment when the leaves should turn;
Who always dance quadrilles, and know the way
To talk incessantly with nought to say;
Who pay long morning visits, and discourse
Upon the best formation of a purse;
Or spend the day—all other aims forgotten,
In drawing patterns, or in winding cotton.
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In word, or deed, can never fail to please;
And call them Dandy—Macaroni—Beau,
Or what you will;—'twas you that made them so.
First the mamma beholds her son with joy,
And in his hearing calls him “lovely boy,”
Sends him to school eclipsing other scholars,
And bids the washerwoman starch his collars.
The sisters then will spoil him in their turn,
And teach him all a lady's man should learn;
The art of sacrificing to the graces,
And looking knowingly in public places:
When more mature, the belles surround the man,
And soon complete what fond mamma began.
And shall the fair their proselytes condemn,
Rejecting those who live and breathe for them?
Can ye, oh! damsels, injure those, whose pride
Is to be seen gallanting at your side?
Whose love for self, unquestionably true,
Is almost equalled by their love for you.
Assert the Dandy's cause; and deign to prove
A lady's man is what the ladies love.
And in his hearing calls him “lovely boy,”
Sends him to school eclipsing other scholars,
And bids the washerwoman starch his collars.
The sisters then will spoil him in their turn,
And teach him all a lady's man should learn;
The art of sacrificing to the graces,
And looking knowingly in public places:
When more mature, the belles surround the man,
And soon complete what fond mamma began.
And shall the fair their proselytes condemn,
Rejecting those who live and breathe for them?
Can ye, oh! damsels, injure those, whose pride
Is to be seen gallanting at your side?
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Is almost equalled by their love for you.
Assert the Dandy's cause; and deign to prove
A lady's man is what the ladies love.
Could a youth in the full costume of the present day have suddenly appeared before our ancestors, and sported a waltz or a quadrille, he would have caused no small sensation; but could a Macaroni of the past as suddenly arise, with a minuet step and an elevated head, he would at least be received in our Ball-rooms with equal surprise. What should we think of a figure like the following:—[Extract from a daily paper, published in the year 1770.]—“A few days ago, a Macaroni made his appearance in the Assembly-rooms, Whitehaven, in the following dress:—a mixed silk coat, pink satin waistcoat and breeches, covered with an elegant silver net, white silk stockings with pink clocks, pink satin shoes with large pearl buckles, a mushroom coloured stock, covered with fine point lace, hair dressed remarkably high, and stuck full of pearl pins.”—
How ye are degenerated, ye tight lads of the year 1820!!!
A Clerical Gentleman being pressed to dance, replied that he could not on account of his cloth: he, however, did not allude to the colour of his coat; his neckcloth was the impediment, dancing being inimical to starch.
125
HARRIET ---
Poor harriet! where is the placid brow,
And the mirth that used to adorn thee;
Thy innocent smiles have all left thee now,
And the friends of thy childhood scorn thee.
And the mirth that used to adorn thee;
Thy innocent smiles have all left thee now,
And the friends of thy childhood scorn thee.
Thy conscious unworthiness wounds thee deep,
Remorse is inflicting its terrors;
And young as thou art thou hast learnt to weep
And blush for thy former errors.
Remorse is inflicting its terrors;
And young as thou art thou hast learnt to weep
And blush for thy former errors.
The friendly encomiums once so dear,
The sound of public applauses,
Are forfeited now for the lonely tear
Which bitter repentance causes.
The sound of public applauses,
Are forfeited now for the lonely tear
Which bitter repentance causes.
126
With love on his lips the deceiver came;
And innocence sadly trembles,
When guilt takes affection's endearing name,
And merciless vice dissembles.
And innocence sadly trembles,
When guilt takes affection's endearing name,
And merciless vice dissembles.
Poor Harriet! none shall thy sorrows heal,
Thy shame from the world concealing;
And those who for others are wont to feel,
To thee shall appear unfeeling.
Thy shame from the world concealing;
And those who for others are wont to feel,
To thee shall appear unfeeling.
Thy errors, lost girl, can no pity gain,
Though pity might yet reclaim thee;
The fair shall behold thee with cold disdain,
And think it a fault to name thee.
Though pity might yet reclaim thee;
The fair shall behold thee with cold disdain,
And think it a fault to name thee.
Do they shrink from the wretch who has caused thy fall,
Does his crime their contempt awaken?
Will he be an outcast condemn'd by all,
And wander like thee forsaken?
Does his crime their contempt awaken?
Will he be an outcast condemn'd by all,
And wander like thee forsaken?
127
Oh no! in the world he may still be gay,
And the fair may with smiles receive him;
The heartless betrayer may still betray,
And none for his guilt shall leave him.
And the fair may with smiles receive him;
The heartless betrayer may still betray,
And none for his guilt shall leave him.
Poor Harriet! sad though thy fate may be,
Though on earth thou art unforgiven,
Repentance may blot all thy stains from thee,
And lead thee reclaim'd to heaven.
Though on earth thou art unforgiven,
Repentance may blot all thy stains from thee,
And lead thee reclaim'd to heaven.
There the mourner a milder doom may meet,
When all earthly hope shall leave her,
More blest as the victim of man's deceit,
Than he who could thus deceive her.
When all earthly hope shall leave her,
More blest as the victim of man's deceit,
Than he who could thus deceive her.
THE END.
| Rough Sketches of Bath, and Other Poems | |