The Poems of St. George Tucker of Williamsburg, Virginia 1752-1827 | ||
A Second Dream on Bridecake
Well—sure no mortal e'er was cursed
With dreams like mine—for they're the worst
That ever visited a sinner,
E'en after fat turtle dinner,
And six good bottles to defend him
From evils that might else attend him.
With dreams like mine—for they're the worst
That ever visited a sinner,
E'en after fat turtle dinner,
And six good bottles to defend him
From evils that might else attend him.
Methought, I turned a mighty rover
Resolved new countries to discover,
And having travelled all around
The globe, a desert isle I found,
Where witches with their train resort
To amuse themselves with magic sport.
Resolved new countries to discover,
And having travelled all around
The globe, a desert isle I found,
Where witches with their train resort
To amuse themselves with magic sport.
As soon as I set foot on land,
And, in an instant—think how shocking!
Turned me into a white silk stocking,
Then wrapped me up among a dozen
Which she was carrying to a cousin.
Thru' various stores and shops I past,
But got to Williamsburg at last,
Where Flora, to the country gadding
Resolved to buy me for a wedding:
My fate I thought was much improved,
For Flora was the maid I loved;
But, little dreamed of pains in store,
Such as ne'er mortal felt before.
The wedding day at length was come,
The girls retired to a room,
Where first they dizzen out the bride,
That done—they for themselves provide.
My Flora laid me on the bed
Whilst she was dressing out her head;
And little thinking who was near,
She laid her snowy bosom bare,
Then wiped her ivory neck and breast,
And then proceeded with the rest.
44
Turned me into a white silk stocking,
Then wrapped me up among a dozen
Which she was carrying to a cousin.
Thru' various stores and shops I past,
But got to Williamsburg at last,
Where Flora, to the country gadding
Resolved to buy me for a wedding:
My fate I thought was much improved,
For Flora was the maid I loved;
But, little dreamed of pains in store,
Such as ne'er mortal felt before.
The wedding day at length was come,
The girls retired to a room,
Where first they dizzen out the bride,
That done—they for themselves provide.
My Flora laid me on the bed
Whilst she was dressing out her head;
And little thinking who was near,
She laid her snowy bosom bare,
Then wiped her ivory neck and breast,
And then proceeded with the rest.
But now, began the dreadful part,
Which plunged a dagger in my heart;
She thrust her hand into my throat,
And quickly turned me, inside out;
Then raised her pretty little foot,
And finding that my mouth would suit,
She drew me quickly on her heel,
Which made my very vitals feel.
But, here methinks I shall disclose
The beauty of her foot and toes;
Her foot and toes were alabaster
And whiter, far, than Paris plaster;
Of mother-pearl I thought her nails
Or else, the silverfish's scales.
She tried to draw me on her leg,
I stuck, and would compassion beg,
But, as, alas, I could not speak,
She forced me on without a squeak.
Her polished knee I next embraced,
And there I stuck until the last;
For tho' she wished to draw me higher,
Yet, troth, I would not venture nigher.
Then to my grief, and great surprise
She with her garter bound my eyes.
Good heaven, was ever such a case?
Was ever man in such a place?
My Flora tripped about, but where
She went, her stocking still was there;
I still embraced her leg and knee,
But yet no object could I see,
Until she went to bed at night,
When she restored me to my sight;
But then, with wonder and surprise,
Poor I, like Milton, lost my eyes;
And thus to utter darkness hurled,
I wished myself in the other world.
Which plunged a dagger in my heart;
She thrust her hand into my throat,
And quickly turned me, inside out;
Then raised her pretty little foot,
And finding that my mouth would suit,
She drew me quickly on her heel,
Which made my very vitals feel.
But, here methinks I shall disclose
The beauty of her foot and toes;
Her foot and toes were alabaster
And whiter, far, than Paris plaster;
Of mother-pearl I thought her nails
Or else, the silverfish's scales.
She tried to draw me on her leg,
I stuck, and would compassion beg,
But, as, alas, I could not speak,
She forced me on without a squeak.
45
And there I stuck until the last;
For tho' she wished to draw me higher,
Yet, troth, I would not venture nigher.
Then to my grief, and great surprise
She with her garter bound my eyes.
Good heaven, was ever such a case?
Was ever man in such a place?
My Flora tripped about, but where
She went, her stocking still was there;
I still embraced her leg and knee,
But yet no object could I see,
Until she went to bed at night,
When she restored me to my sight;
But then, with wonder and surprise,
Poor I, like Milton, lost my eyes;
And thus to utter darkness hurled,
I wished myself in the other world.
Sept. 20, 1777
The Poems of St. George Tucker of Williamsburg, Virginia 1752-1827 | ||