Poems By Mr. Polwhele. In three volumes |
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CANTO THE FIRST.
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CANTO THE FIRST.
ARGUMENT.
1. The Country-Gentleman of former Times.—2. Description of the Mansion-house, ruinous Castle, Gateway, &c. of Andarton— of the Family resident at Andarton, from the highest Antiquity. —3. Sir Humphrey de Andarton, the present Possessor— his Character—his Wishes for a Son—Miss Prue his only Child—by his first Wife, Bridget—His Estates entailed on Miss Prue, in case of no Male Heir—Character of Miss Prue —Harriet, Sir Humphrey's second Wife—Rachel, his Maiden Sister—His Domestics, grown old in his Service.
In elder days, when each manerial lord
Cherish'd, with decent pride, the social board,
Assiduous to support his old demesne,
Where clustering hamlets spoke no sullen scene;
The rich, the poor, with sparkling eyes survey'd
The pure recesses of the patriarch-shade.
And, lo! a scatter'd few, still fond to trace
The fairer deeds that mark'd their quiet race,
Blush not to boast the hereditary claim,
But own their father's pomp, their proudest aim.
Cherish'd, with decent pride, the social board,
Assiduous to support his old demesne,
Where clustering hamlets spoke no sullen scene;
2
The pure recesses of the patriarch-shade.
And, lo! a scatter'd few, still fond to trace
The fairer deeds that mark'd their quiet race,
Blush not to boast the hereditary claim,
But own their father's pomp, their proudest aim.
Where glides the Fale, here spreading to the sun,
There veil'd by clifts, or fring'd by coppice dun,
On the hill side, of unaspiring height,
A hoary mansion boasts its pleasant site;
And where a woodbine-porch attracts the eye,
Courts to its southern front the balmy sky.
There veil'd by clifts, or fring'd by coppice dun,
On the hill side, of unaspiring height,
A hoary mansion boasts its pleasant site;
And where a woodbine-porch attracts the eye,
Courts to its southern front the balmy sky.
Soft from the porch a path, with easy flow,
Steals down the slope, to kiss the bank below,
Where gentle Fale the greensod loves to lave,
Or curls thro' breathing tufts its amorous wave;
While the tower-pinnacles, for ages grey,
Frown o'er the church thro' many an elmy spray,
And from the curate's thatch and whiten'd walls
Across the silent stream the shadow falls.
Steals down the slope, to kiss the bank below,
Where gentle Fale the greensod loves to lave,
Or curls thro' breathing tufts its amorous wave;
While the tower-pinnacles, for ages grey,
Frown o'er the church thro' many an elmy spray,
And from the curate's thatch and whiten'd walls
Across the silent stream the shadow falls.
3
On grounds above the mansion-site, we mark
A shatter'd castle crumbling o'er the park:
Its ivy-curtain to the zephyr heaves,
As mountain-ashes dance their airy leaves,
And, ere their vermeil berries they unfold,
Festoon the roofless wall with wreaths of gold.
Lo! as assail'd by Charles's murderous foes,
In firm defiance still the rampires rose;
Sterner amid the storm the castle stood,
To drink, at all its loopholes, rebel blood;
Till, entering every breach to crush a host
Beneath the fragments, was its haughty boast!
A shatter'd castle crumbling o'er the park:
Its ivy-curtain to the zephyr heaves,
As mountain-ashes dance their airy leaves,
And, ere their vermeil berries they unfold,
Festoon the roofless wall with wreaths of gold.
Lo! as assail'd by Charles's murderous foes,
In firm defiance still the rampires rose;
Sterner amid the storm the castle stood,
To drink, at all its loopholes, rebel blood;
Till, entering every breach to crush a host
Beneath the fragments, was its haughty boast!
Rais'd from the castle-stone, the mansion owes
To the fall'n fabric its columnar rows
Fantastic, once in beauteous order light,
Its roof plain-vaulted, once with fretwork dight,
Its doorway's pointless arches, and its panes
Yet dimly tinctur'd with armorial stains;
Whilst her fond antiquaries Fancy wafts
From wreathed windows high to clustering shafts,
Midst all the tracery which adorns a dome
That frowns, superbly rich, in Gothic gloom.
To the fall'n fabric its columnar rows
Fantastic, once in beauteous order light,
Its roof plain-vaulted, once with fretwork dight,
Its doorway's pointless arches, and its panes
Yet dimly tinctur'd with armorial stains;
Whilst her fond antiquaries Fancy wafts
From wreathed windows high to clustering shafts,
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That frowns, superbly rich, in Gothic gloom.
Beyond the ruin, rock'd by every gale,
A gateway seems its solitude to wail,
As, in unbroken grandeur wild and lone,
Its turrets to the castle fragments moan;
Whence a dark avenue, by time embrown'd,
With its diffusive umbrage sweeps the ground,
Guides, in fair perspective, the pleasur'd eye
To poppied cornfields redd'ning to the sky;
To vallies blooming midst their orchard shade,
Or where tall hops their pendent blossoms braid;
And to the aërial azure that invests
The soften'd whiteness of the clifts, and rests
A deep'ning haze, on two umbrageous knolls
Between whose parted gloom the billow rolls.
A gateway seems its solitude to wail,
As, in unbroken grandeur wild and lone,
Its turrets to the castle fragments moan;
Whence a dark avenue, by time embrown'd,
With its diffusive umbrage sweeps the ground,
Guides, in fair perspective, the pleasur'd eye
To poppied cornfields redd'ning to the sky;
To vallies blooming midst their orchard shade,
Or where tall hops their pendent blossoms braid;
And to the aërial azure that invests
The soften'd whiteness of the clifts, and rests
A deep'ning haze, on two umbrageous knolls
Between whose parted gloom the billow rolls.
Far branching from the loftier avenue,
A woodwalk, roof'd with laurel, leads the view,
As roses blush, and purpling lilacs swell,
And jasmines twinkle, to a cottag'd dell;
Where, to the left, a wood its foliage flings,
And little spaces gleam with fairy rings,
Thro' the smooth stems of limes or beeches seen,
To lure the fancy to their softer green.
A woodwalk, roof'd with laurel, leads the view,
As roses blush, and purpling lilacs swell,
And jasmines twinkle, to a cottag'd dell;
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And little spaces gleam with fairy rings,
Thro' the smooth stems of limes or beeches seen,
To lure the fancy to their softer green.
Meantime, the mansion rears no feeble roof
On moorstone from the ruin, massy-proof;
While, stretcht along the western wing, its hall
Wooes a dim chesnut to the pannell'd wall,
Bids the broad foliage o'er the wainscot play,
And weave its quiv'ring shades with purple day.
Here muskets gleam in many a steely row,
With bayonets and pistols rang'd below;
Swords that of human blood ne'er knew the guilt,
And hangers glittering from each silver hilt—
How valueless, amid the veteran fame
Of armour that superior pannels claim;
Vizors high burnisht once, as glory play'd
Around the leaders of the wild crusade;
The rusted cuirass, and the dinted shield;
Bows that perhaps were bent on Cressy's field;
Hauberks that clasp'd, where furies urg'd their work,
Lancastrian heroes, or the chiefs of York;
And targets, crusted deep with sanguine scales;
And sable casques, that sigh to rifted mails.
On moorstone from the ruin, massy-proof;
While, stretcht along the western wing, its hall
Wooes a dim chesnut to the pannell'd wall,
Bids the broad foliage o'er the wainscot play,
And weave its quiv'ring shades with purple day.
Here muskets gleam in many a steely row,
With bayonets and pistols rang'd below;
Swords that of human blood ne'er knew the guilt,
And hangers glittering from each silver hilt—
How valueless, amid the veteran fame
Of armour that superior pannels claim;
Vizors high burnisht once, as glory play'd
Around the leaders of the wild crusade;
The rusted cuirass, and the dinted shield;
Bows that perhaps were bent on Cressy's field;
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Lancastrian heroes, or the chiefs of York;
And targets, crusted deep with sanguine scales;
And sable casques, that sigh to rifted mails.
And not the hall alone, array'd with arms,
Of other times renew'd the heroic charms.
Glimmer'd above the hall, “the golden room,”
Where mantled in the dance the virgin's bloom;
While a long gallery, on its eastern side,
Projected picture-shadows, far and wide;
And with a portrait of the castle-dome
Adorn'd, still serv'd to foster thro' the gloom
Which gathers o'er an ancient house decay'd,
The pride of worthies wedded to the shade.
Of other times renew'd the heroic charms.
Glimmer'd above the hall, “the golden room,”
Where mantled in the dance the virgin's bloom;
While a long gallery, on its eastern side,
Projected picture-shadows, far and wide;
And with a portrait of the castle-dome
Adorn'd, still serv'd to foster thro' the gloom
Which gathers o'er an ancient house decay'd,
The pride of worthies wedded to the shade.
So stands the dome; screen'd safely from the north
By elms that pour the rook's hoarse murmur forth:
And, at small distance from the social trees
A broad pond gleams, and dimples to the breeze;
The wholesome cresses on its border feeds,
And hides it's wanton carp with shading reeds.
By elms that pour the rook's hoarse murmur forth:
And, at small distance from the social trees
A broad pond gleams, and dimples to the breeze;
The wholesome cresses on its border feeds,
And hides it's wanton carp with shading reeds.
7
Amid these grounds, a race of spotless name,
Not trump'd by glory, or unknown to fame,
Their rural lives in calm succession pass'd,
And saw good days, and peaceful breath'd their last.
Not that each worthy, tho' unstain'd by crimes,
Escap'd the modish errors of the times:
Yet, each descending to his father's vault,
His sin was soften'd to a trivial fault.
Not trump'd by glory, or unknown to fame,
Their rural lives in calm succession pass'd,
And saw good days, and peaceful breath'd their last.
Not that each worthy, tho' unstain'd by crimes,
Escap'd the modish errors of the times:
Yet, each descending to his father's vault,
His sin was soften'd to a trivial fault.
That, her High Chamberlain, the bearded Hugh
Serv'd Queen Matilda, is as gospel true:
That, once, at Henry's court, the sly Sir Watt
Was Wolsey's friend, allur'd by Wolsey's hat,
Yet, when the Cardinal dispurpled fell,
Stole to these shades, the village stories tell;
And that, in bigot Mary's reign, the shire
Sir Edmund serv'd, as Knight, is passing clear.
But none had scorn'd the endearing sweets of home,
Or roam'd to distant shores, or wish'd to roam;
Save that young Ralph, illustrious in the fight,
At Salem's glittering towers, a red-cross Knight,
Had the proud crescent from the rampires torn,
And stern o'er hills of slain the trophy borne.
Serv'd Queen Matilda, is as gospel true:
That, once, at Henry's court, the sly Sir Watt
Was Wolsey's friend, allur'd by Wolsey's hat,
Yet, when the Cardinal dispurpled fell,
Stole to these shades, the village stories tell;
And that, in bigot Mary's reign, the shire
Sir Edmund serv'd, as Knight, is passing clear.
But none had scorn'd the endearing sweets of home,
Or roam'd to distant shores, or wish'd to roam;
Save that young Ralph, illustrious in the fight,
At Salem's glittering towers, a red-cross Knight,
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And stern o'er hills of slain the trophy borne.
Yes! happy still their home-brew'd ale to quaff,
(Spite of the exotic prowess of Sir Ralph)
A train of honest Knights and honest Squires
Were laid in quiet slumber with their fires;
When every villager aspir'd to hail
Sir Humphrey, lord of all the tranquil vale,
And not less meriting his fathers praise,
Tho' “fall'n on evil tongues and evil days!”
(Spite of the exotic prowess of Sir Ralph)
A train of honest Knights and honest Squires
Were laid in quiet slumber with their fires;
When every villager aspir'd to hail
Sir Humphrey, lord of all the tranquil vale,
And not less meriting his fathers praise,
Tho' “fall'n on evil tongues and evil days!”
Tho' now, alas! arriv'd at sixty-one,
Yet was the Knight ungifted with a son:
Still for a son he breath'd the fervent prayer;
But all his ardors were dispers'd in air.
Yet was the Knight ungifted with a son:
Still for a son he breath'd the fervent prayer;
But all his ardors were dispers'd in air.
Twice in the roseate chain of Hymen linkt,
Love on the gentle captive archly wink'd,
As to a second charmer he resign'd,
In dreams of sweet oblivion, all his mind.
Love on the gentle captive archly wink'd,
As to a second charmer he resign'd,
In dreams of sweet oblivion, all his mind.
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Yet oft his Bridget, nipt in early bloom,
His grief still follow'd to the untimely tomb.
“But why lament her loss; while, far aloof,
“While, hovering at due distance from my roof,
“At best with cold civility I treat
“Her friends that once annoy'd my peaceful seat?—
“That pallid sister, who now mocks the skies,
“Lifting the whites of two grey-gogling eyes;—
“That meagre brother, an air dancing prig,
“Like Jenny Jerkairs, in heroics big
“If at the sessions he hath gain'd a cause
“By the smart action of his lanthorn jaws,
“But, on a sudden, how submiss and mute
“If his nose suffer in some sharp dispute!”
His grief still follow'd to the untimely tomb.
“But why lament her loss; while, far aloof,
“While, hovering at due distance from my roof,
“At best with cold civility I treat
“Her friends that once annoy'd my peaceful seat?—
“That pallid sister, who now mocks the skies,
“Lifting the whites of two grey-gogling eyes;—
“That meagre brother, an air dancing prig,
“Like Jenny Jerkairs, in heroics big
“If at the sessions he hath gain'd a cause
“By the smart action of his lanthorn jaws,
“But, on a sudden, how submiss and mute
“If his nose suffer in some sharp dispute!”
Thus o'er the past Sir Humphrey lov'd to brood,
Then look'd to future views in fretful mood;
As, overweening still, his wish would run,
“O may kind Heaven indulge me with a son!”
Then look'd to future views in fretful mood;
As, overweening still, his wish would run,
“O may kind Heaven indulge me with a son!”
One girl was his, just verging on eighteen—
O well might he prefer that prayer, I ween!
A present from his first devoted wife,
The girl might soothe, indeed, the cares of life,
If, haply, formal pride and sullen airs,
And flippancies, of life relieve the cares.
Tutor'd amidst a modish school, whose boast
Was to amuse conceited heads, at most,
And not one salutary truth impart,
Such as informs the mind, or mends the heart;
Miss, with a hatred for her home, came down,
And term'd each rural squire a booby clown!
O well might he prefer that prayer, I ween!
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The girl might soothe, indeed, the cares of life,
If, haply, formal pride and sullen airs,
And flippancies, of life relieve the cares.
Tutor'd amidst a modish school, whose boast
Was to amuse conceited heads, at most,
And not one salutary truth impart,
Such as informs the mind, or mends the heart;
Miss, with a hatred for her home, came down,
And term'd each rural squire a booby clown!
Attacht to things that Misses deem outré,
A shrub imported from the Southern Sea,
No matter what—a Transatlantic weed,
Or any creature not of British breed,
She, by her sire's indulgence, prompt to grant
Her wishes, purchas'd many a curious plant;
While with Bologna's lapdog soft supplied,
Her soul, unsated, for a monkey sigh'd;
And, with the prating of a parrot blest,
The paroquet her longing hopes carest!
A shrub imported from the Southern Sea,
No matter what—a Transatlantic weed,
Or any creature not of British breed,
She, by her sire's indulgence, prompt to grant
Her wishes, purchas'd many a curious plant;
While with Bologna's lapdog soft supplied,
Her soul, unsated, for a monkey sigh'd;
And, with the prating of a parrot blest,
The paroquet her longing hopes carest!
11
From taste in reading still she wander'd wide,
Follow'd the laws of fashion, her sole guide;
With thoughts that petrify, and words that freeze,
Turn'd o'er a page, and talk'd of Eloise;
And said, that English writers of romance
Stole every touching grace from genial France.
Follow'd the laws of fashion, her sole guide;
With thoughts that petrify, and words that freeze,
Turn'd o'er a page, and talk'd of Eloise;
And said, that English writers of romance
Stole every touching grace from genial France.
Of France, indeed, enamour'd, she resign'd
To one sole favourite of the human kind,
A maid from Caen imported, every care;
(Unless a school-creole might claim a share)
As with the choicest Gallic tropes she strung,
In converse with the chattering girl, her tongue;
For genuine wit receiv'd each flippant jest,
While dear Annette herself or Tripsey drest;
And, from the vulgar English herd withdrawn,
Enjoy'd the native eloquence of Caen.
To one sole favourite of the human kind,
A maid from Caen imported, every care;
(Unless a school-creole might claim a share)
As with the choicest Gallic tropes she strung,
In converse with the chattering girl, her tongue;
For genuine wit receiv'd each flippant jest,
While dear Annette herself or Tripsey drest;
And, from the vulgar English herd withdrawn,
Enjoy'd the native eloquence of Caen.
Yet, if the Knight begat no issue male,
His whole inheritance was hers in tail.
His whole inheritance was hers in tail.
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But, fond to give his heritage some chance,
Or won (as some suspect) by beauty's glance,
He kneel'd to Harriet, ere nine moons were past
Since his first wife, his Bridget, breath'd her last.
And well, ye Muses! might a form so fair,
Those easy gestures, and that modest air—
The harmonies of elegance and love,
The pliant bosom of Sir Humphrey move;
While o'er her sweet, her prepossessing face,
The shadowy eyelash cast a pensive grace;
While all the worth that feeling—sense supplies,
Play'd in divine succession from her eyes.
There, mild complacence held it's sober seat;
There, gentleness illum'd its lov'd retreat;
There Prudence sat, and, e'er deciding right,
Reflected on calm thought a steady light.
Now quick intelligence, in many a blaze,
From those bright orbs elicited its rays!
Now, in a sweet transition, would appear
Pity! the trembling lustre of thy tear!
Yet never could the admiring gaze excite
In that pure breast one flutter of delight,
While with those charms humility combin'd,
To crown the beauteous triumph of the mind.
Or won (as some suspect) by beauty's glance,
He kneel'd to Harriet, ere nine moons were past
Since his first wife, his Bridget, breath'd her last.
And well, ye Muses! might a form so fair,
Those easy gestures, and that modest air—
The harmonies of elegance and love,
The pliant bosom of Sir Humphrey move;
While o'er her sweet, her prepossessing face,
The shadowy eyelash cast a pensive grace;
While all the worth that feeling—sense supplies,
Play'd in divine succession from her eyes.
There, mild complacence held it's sober seat;
There, gentleness illum'd its lov'd retreat;
There Prudence sat, and, e'er deciding right,
Reflected on calm thought a steady light.
Now quick intelligence, in many a blaze,
From those bright orbs elicited its rays!
Now, in a sweet transition, would appear
Pity! the trembling lustre of thy tear!
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In that pure breast one flutter of delight,
While with those charms humility combin'd,
To crown the beauteous triumph of the mind.
But, oft, such virtues, as in lovely light
They rise, in contrast with demoniac spite,
Tho' Fancy bid them brighten thro' the gloom,
Draw Envy's venom'd breath, to blast their bloom.
“Shall you (the girl once cried, with loosen'd rage)
“Whose arts have won my father's doating age,
“Who, ere my hapless mother had been dead
“For nine short months, approach'd the widow'd bed;
“Shall you assume the housewife's serious task,
“And duties that a long experience ask?
“Shall you, who know not what the fashions mean,
“Direct, in dress, a lady of eighteen?”
Yet gentle Harriet of the household-care
Bore, with becoming grace, a trivial share;
And seldom to Miss Prue, tho' all confess
Its studied stiffness, dropp'd a hint of dress.
They rise, in contrast with demoniac spite,
Tho' Fancy bid them brighten thro' the gloom,
Draw Envy's venom'd breath, to blast their bloom.
“Shall you (the girl once cried, with loosen'd rage)
“Whose arts have won my father's doating age,
“Who, ere my hapless mother had been dead
“For nine short months, approach'd the widow'd bed;
“Shall you assume the housewife's serious task,
“And duties that a long experience ask?
“Shall you, who know not what the fashions mean,
“Direct, in dress, a lady of eighteen?”
Yet gentle Harriet of the household-care
Bore, with becoming grace, a trivial share;
And seldom to Miss Prue, tho' all confess
Its studied stiffness, dropp'd a hint of dress.
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Meanwhile, a maiden sister of the Knight,
Perverse, but rarely gloom'd by spleen or spite,
Who from Andarton's smoke had never stray'd,
The household with a high dominion sway'd.
Perverse, but rarely gloom'd by spleen or spite,
Who from Andarton's smoke had never stray'd,
The household with a high dominion sway'd.
Rachel, in truth, a notable old dame,
To thriftiness preferr'd the proudest claim;
Whether her menial train she lov'd to treat
With barley-meal proportion'd to their wheat;
Or trick'd the government, so keen and arch,
By the nice conduct of potatoe-starch;
Or, to œconomy a constant friend,
Each night collected every candle-end.
To thriftiness preferr'd the proudest claim;
Whether her menial train she lov'd to treat
With barley-meal proportion'd to their wheat;
Or trick'd the government, so keen and arch,
By the nice conduct of potatoe-starch;
Or, to œconomy a constant friend,
Each night collected every candle-end.
But, in her charities good Rachel, still,
Discover'd to the world her wondrous skill.
With her what nymph could vie, ye hamlets! say,
In treacle-posset, or in cyder-whey?
O tell what dame with Rachel could compare
Her poppy-syrops, or her maidenhair?
Discover'd to the world her wondrous skill.
With her what nymph could vie, ye hamlets! say,
In treacle-posset, or in cyder-whey?
O tell what dame with Rachel could compare
Her poppy-syrops, or her maidenhair?
15
Of all the sins that sue to be forgiven,
Imploring mercy from relenting Heaven,
She rated fornication far the worst,
A sin she judg'd unnat'ral and accurst:
Yet would she pity, of her wrath beguil'd,
The poor frail Jacobite who prov'd with child.
Imploring mercy from relenting Heaven,
She rated fornication far the worst,
A sin she judg'd unnat'ral and accurst:
Yet would she pity, of her wrath beguil'd,
The poor frail Jacobite who prov'd with child.
Sir Humprhey could, himself, but ill discard
To the fall'n Prince the family-regard:
And, if he warmly had espous'd a cause,
Her brother's notions were, to Rachel, laws.
To the fall'n Prince the family-regard:
And, if he warmly had espous'd a cause,
Her brother's notions were, to Rachel, laws.
Not but she screw'd her visage up, at first,
And her parch'd lips, 'tis rumour'd, somewhat purs'd,
When brother own'd, again by Cupid smit,
That his teeth water'd for a fresh tid bit.
And her parch'd lips, 'tis rumour'd, somewhat purs'd,
When brother own'd, again by Cupid smit,
That his teeth water'd for a fresh tid bit.
And often with a shrewd or mystic look,
Amid her household train her head she shook;
When their first mistress, hurried to the tomb
They mourn'd, and shudder'd at the haunted room.
“'Tis now five years, and coming six, (they cried)
“Since last we saw the room where mistress died:
“And, sure we are, that chamber, every night,
“Is sadly troubled by some wandering sprite!
“Such noises oft we hear, such hideous moans—
“Our flesh seems ready to forsake our bones!
“Heaven grant no mischief may befall our lord,
“But untold blessings croud his bed and board!”
Amid her household train her head she shook;
When their first mistress, hurried to the tomb
They mourn'd, and shudder'd at the haunted room.
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“Since last we saw the room where mistress died:
“And, sure we are, that chamber, every night,
“Is sadly troubled by some wandering sprite!
“Such noises oft we hear, such hideous moans—
“Our flesh seems ready to forsake our bones!
“Heaven grant no mischief may befall our lord,
“But untold blessings croud his bed and board!”
And warm their wishes! In his house grown old,
Their's was the faithful heart unbrib'd by gold!
The merry butler was alert to tell
(A parish-prentice, he remember'd well)
“How for young master Humphrey, who was born,
“Beneath some lucky star, on Twelfth-day morn,
“While round the roast they all were drencht with sack,
“The great gold chain hung glittering to the jack!
The groom, his head besprent with silver grey,
Wish'd, with arch looks, for such another day:
The simple hind petition'd from the heart,
That master yet might play a vigorous part;
And Avice, bending now beneath fourscore,
Half smiling, nodded to the wags—encore!
Alas, poor Avice! tremulously weak,
Who with a palsied tongue essay'd to speak
Her honest feelings, as she told with glee,
How she had dandled oft the knight upon her knee!
Poor Avice! who once dar'd, indeed, to chide
Miss Prue's increasing petulance and pride;
Yet now, perhaps, presuming to beseech
The girl, with all humility of speech,
To check her sullens, was with scorn repaid—
Nay, by the blackness of her scowl dismay'd,
Not for a world, would venture Miss to meet,
If aught befel the plants or paroquet!
Their's was the faithful heart unbrib'd by gold!
The merry butler was alert to tell
(A parish-prentice, he remember'd well)
“How for young master Humphrey, who was born,
“Beneath some lucky star, on Twelfth-day morn,
“While round the roast they all were drencht with sack,
“The great gold chain hung glittering to the jack!
The groom, his head besprent with silver grey,
Wish'd, with arch looks, for such another day:
The simple hind petition'd from the heart,
That master yet might play a vigorous part;
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Half smiling, nodded to the wags—encore!
Alas, poor Avice! tremulously weak,
Who with a palsied tongue essay'd to speak
Her honest feelings, as she told with glee,
How she had dandled oft the knight upon her knee!
Poor Avice! who once dar'd, indeed, to chide
Miss Prue's increasing petulance and pride;
Yet now, perhaps, presuming to beseech
The girl, with all humility of speech,
To check her sullens, was with scorn repaid—
Nay, by the blackness of her scowl dismay'd,
Not for a world, would venture Miss to meet,
If aught befel the plants or paroquet!
But tho' her humour seldom Avice hit,
Yet Avice pardon'd every sulky fit;
Each prayer with wishes for her welfare clos'd;
And, as a little brother (she suppos'd)
Might from the suds relieve the vapourish maid,
Unceasing, for a little brother pray'd.
“Alas! (she cried) on this poor feeble knee,
“My master have I dandled oft with glee—
“O! in a son (she utter'd with a sigh)
“His image may I dandle, ere I die!”
Yet Avice pardon'd every sulky fit;
Each prayer with wishes for her welfare clos'd;
And, as a little brother (she suppos'd)
Might from the suds relieve the vapourish maid,
Unceasing, for a little brother pray'd.
18
“My master have I dandled oft with glee—
“O! in a son (she utter'd with a sigh)
“His image may I dandle, ere I die!”
END OF THE FIRST CANTO.
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