Ball room votaries or, Canterbury and its vicinity. Second Edition, with considerable alterations and additions [by Edward Quillinan] |
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 | Ball room votaries |  |
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BALL ROOM VOTARIES; OR, THE ISLE OF THANET.
Margate! where Momus holds his summer reign,Thy ample Ball-room now demands my strain;
Beauty shall be my muse, with angel smile—
Beauty, that blooms so fair in Thanet's Isle:
Thy sister, Ramsgate, too her nymphs shall bring,
And, join'd with thine, adorn the lays I sing;
And Broadstairs, also, help to shew us here
The toss of quality and high-bred sneer:
Yes, these, with all their airs, shall hear my call,
Be vulgar once, and grace a Margate Ball.
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‘Margate!’ you cry, ‘to Garner then we'll go,
For he'll assuredly the author know;
And if he knows, as certainly will tell,
To please and to oblige he loves so well.’
For he'll assuredly the author know;
And if he knows, as certainly will tell,
To please and to oblige he loves so well.’
'Tis true, fair nymphs, you're most completely right,
Than Garner none oblige with more delight:
And so attentive is he too, to all,
He ever strives your wishes to forestall;
Yet be convinced, to save enquiry's task,
Like you he knows not, and 'twere vain to ask;
Though, if he did, I hold his sense so great,
A secret he'd disdain to violate.
Will titled ladies breathe resentment forth,
Than Garner none oblige with more delight:
And so attentive is he too, to all,
He ever strives your wishes to forestall;
Yet be convinced, to save enquiry's task,
Like you he knows not, and 'twere vain to ask;
Though, if he did, I hold his sense so great,
A secret he'd disdain to violate.
If I commence with A*sl*ys well-known worth?
Title precedence claims in polish'd clime,
Yet merit sure may jingle first in rhyme—
And truly none can boast of fairer mind,
More delicate, accomplish'd, and refin'd;
With truth adorn'd, with native genius deck'd,
Of just conception, and of thought correct:
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As to the tale of woe each feeling breast;
Worth such as this deserves the poet's praise—
Worth such as this exalts the humblest lays.
You see where, watch'd by many a fair one's glance,
Le Bas there stands, the monarch of the dance;
(Le Bas, whose mild and equitable sway
For twenty years has rul'd the circle gay):
Know you that aged figure by his side?
It is Sir Horace, Margate's earliest pride—
Friendship and kindness blending in his face,
With easy manners and familiar grace;
Quick to forgive, reluctant to offend,
To all, except himself, a true and faithful friend.
You notice W*ll**ms and his lady there,
A gay, a sociable, and happy pair:
Her easy manner to Le Bas displayed,
And willingness to lend her active aid;
Whene'er the forms of Margate etiquette
Required him to give a minuet,
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Anxious to please and all it could impart.
Observe in earnest converse at the top,
Sir John and W****n, the attorney fop;
Sir John, the hero in my former lays,
Whose mark'd humility so won my praise;
And W****n, in himself who ne'er found flaw,
A fine festidious city limb of law.
To him Sir John, of brow and feature stern,
Thus vents the feelings in his breast that burn:
“The Ball-Room Votaries—you've seen the thing?
That vile attempt the good and great to sting;
And, as you know, it prostitutes my name—
From proud Sir John to Jack descends my fame.
Shall then Sir John to vulgar Jack thus sink?
Is't not a libel, W****n; what d'ye think?
The plea of ign'rance cannot screen the line;
You know invariably Sir John I sign.
'Twould bear an action, would it not, my friend?
To which your talents bright their aid might lend;
If so, the honour of my name I'd save,
Detect, no doubt, and prosecute the knave;
Perhaps confine for life the wanton wag,
So perish all that laugh at Sir John F***.”
Sir John and W****n, the attorney fop;
Sir John, the hero in my former lays,
Whose mark'd humility so won my praise;
And W****n, in himself who ne'er found flaw,
A fine festidious city limb of law.
To him Sir John, of brow and feature stern,
Thus vents the feelings in his breast that burn:
“The Ball-Room Votaries—you've seen the thing?
That vile attempt the good and great to sting;
And, as you know, it prostitutes my name—
From proud Sir John to Jack descends my fame.
Shall then Sir John to vulgar Jack thus sink?
Is't not a libel, W****n; what d'ye think?
The plea of ign'rance cannot screen the line;
You know invariably Sir John I sign.
'Twould bear an action, would it not, my friend?
To which your talents bright their aid might lend;
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Detect, no doubt, and prosecute the knave;
Perhaps confine for life the wanton wag,
So perish all that laugh at Sir John F***.”
A deeper shade o'erspreads the churchman's eyes,
While thus the consequential prig replies:—
While thus the consequential prig replies:—
“My fame, Sir John, exceeds description's bounds,
Through all the city alleys it resounds;
From Temple-Bar to fragrant Fish-Street-Hill,
Unnumber'd citizens attest my skill.
Had you some city matter wanted solv'd,
In maze however intricate involv'd,
Or any case, indeed, had wish'd disclos'd,
Except the very one you have propos'd,
My talents, which so justly bright you find,
Had brought conviction to your doubtful mind;
But 'tis not in my practice, I confess,
To settle points affecting the Noblesse:
Yet, as a simile the truth may trace,
And throw some light on this perplexing case;
Thus much I can inform you, that from town,
When the Lord Mayor comes to Margate down,
'Twould work astonishment, and make me stare
To hear his lordship nick-named Mister Mayor.”
Through all the city alleys it resounds;
From Temple-Bar to fragrant Fish-Street-Hill,
Unnumber'd citizens attest my skill.
Had you some city matter wanted solv'd,
In maze however intricate involv'd,
Or any case, indeed, had wish'd disclos'd,
Except the very one you have propos'd,
My talents, which so justly bright you find,
Had brought conviction to your doubtful mind;
But 'tis not in my practice, I confess,
To settle points affecting the Noblesse:
Yet, as a simile the truth may trace,
And throw some light on this perplexing case;
Thus much I can inform you, that from town,
When the Lord Mayor comes to Margate down,
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To hear his lordship nick-named Mister Mayor.”
See Proteus J*rv*s hastily advance,
An actor, captain, master of the dance;
Exact in circumstances, nice in dates,
Yet apt to prose in all that he relates.
But let me not the foibles bring in view
Of one whose virtues bear such noble hue;
Whose candid mind would never stoop to please,
By cringing, creeping flatt'ry, Margate's curst disease;
Whose tongue, untrained to adulation's guile,
Breathes for his friends no ready incense vile;
And whose combined humanity and skill
Claim the warm tribute of encomium still.
An actor, captain, master of the dance;
Exact in circumstances, nice in dates,
Yet apt to prose in all that he relates.
But let me not the foibles bring in view
Of one whose virtues bear such noble hue;
Whose candid mind would never stoop to please,
By cringing, creeping flatt'ry, Margate's curst disease;
Whose tongue, untrained to adulation's guile,
Breathes for his friends no ready incense vile;
And whose combined humanity and skill
Claim the warm tribute of encomium still.
That prompt humanity superior shone,
That gen'rous skill a Coote's applauses won,
When Britain's martial host to Ostend sail'd,
And medical assistance so much fail'd;
'Twas then (the impulse of his heart obey'd)
J*rv*s stepp'd forth and volunteer'd his aid,
Forsook the comforts all of social joy,
And left a sure and lucrative employ,
To share the perils and relieve the pain
Of wounded warriors on a foreign plain—
There would his constant, anxious efforts save
Full many a hero sinking to the grave:
There, watchful at the fainting soldier's side,
Renew the springs of life's retreating tide,
Assist pale nature's struggle against death;
With nicest art retain the fleeting breath,
And send the warrior, from disease restor'd,
Once more to bathe in hostile blood his sword.
That gen'rous skill a Coote's applauses won,
When Britain's martial host to Ostend sail'd,
And medical assistance so much fail'd;
'Twas then (the impulse of his heart obey'd)
J*rv*s stepp'd forth and volunteer'd his aid,
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And left a sure and lucrative employ,
To share the perils and relieve the pain
Of wounded warriors on a foreign plain—
There would his constant, anxious efforts save
Full many a hero sinking to the grave:
There, watchful at the fainting soldier's side,
Renew the springs of life's retreating tide,
Assist pale nature's struggle against death;
With nicest art retain the fleeting breath,
And send the warrior, from disease restor'd,
Once more to bathe in hostile blood his sword.
View D*ck*ns now, with duck-like step approach,
As fond of talk as F*st*r of his coach:
Late as I marked her seeking out the poor,
With waddling pace, from humble door to door,
Methought 'twas charity had led her there,
And from my soul I blest her gen'rous care;
Little I thought the gabbling niggard came,
Avarice her guide, economy her aim—
To buy at cheapest rate their little store,
She sought those lowly stalls and sought no more.
See now advance the modest well-bred D*r*ng,
Free of her sex's envious odious sneering.
And pious Br**ne her footsteps hither bend,
Dark scandal's foe, the poor one's steady friend;
While at her side the gentle S*wk*ns goes,
Prais'd, lov'd, caress'd by every one she knows;
(Or if there be a female loves her not,
Sure envy's shades that female's bosom blot).
How sweet, how pleasing is it to pourtray,
A pair like this in virtue's white array,
Each line of mild benevolence to trace,
And each soft feature on compassion's face:
Now, by my soul, though in poetic field
The arms of ridicule I strive to wield;
Though pleas'd I took what satire's hand conferr'd,
Nettles to sting of fools and knaves a herd,
Far more congenial for my fav'rite lays
Bloom the fair flowers that deck the path of praise.
As fond of talk as F*st*r of his coach:
Late as I marked her seeking out the poor,
With waddling pace, from humble door to door,
Methought 'twas charity had led her there,
And from my soul I blest her gen'rous care;
Little I thought the gabbling niggard came,
Avarice her guide, economy her aim—
To buy at cheapest rate their little store,
She sought those lowly stalls and sought no more.
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Free of her sex's envious odious sneering.
And pious Br**ne her footsteps hither bend,
Dark scandal's foe, the poor one's steady friend;
While at her side the gentle S*wk*ns goes,
Prais'd, lov'd, caress'd by every one she knows;
(Or if there be a female loves her not,
Sure envy's shades that female's bosom blot).
How sweet, how pleasing is it to pourtray,
A pair like this in virtue's white array,
Each line of mild benevolence to trace,
And each soft feature on compassion's face:
Now, by my soul, though in poetic field
The arms of ridicule I strive to wield;
Though pleas'd I took what satire's hand conferr'd,
Nettles to sting of fools and knaves a herd,
Far more congenial for my fav'rite lays
Bloom the fair flowers that deck the path of praise.
Ye who, with heavy and malignant curse,
So oft have honour'd my offending verse,
Stung to the heart to find your portraits there,
Depicted in their native province fair;
Would ye be deck'd in verse with just renown,
Go, tread the steps of S*wk*ns and of Br**ne.
So oft have honour'd my offending verse,
Stung to the heart to find your portraits there,
Depicted in their native province fair;
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Go, tread the steps of S*wk*ns and of Br**ne.
With bashful mien see C**b advancing now,
A youth whose modest merits all allow;
That shy reserve and unassuming air,
His innate value and his sense declare;
Of nature amiable, of manners mild,
In want of confidence a very child:
But so much diffidence his worth conceals,
And much too low his place in life he feels;
Loves from his proper level to retreat,
And fix his station in a humbler seat,
Amidst associates of inferior birth,
Who know not how to estimate that worth.
Ah! sure 'tis pity that so fair a soul,
Misplac'd timidity should thus controul;
On the rich soil where towering elm should grow
The lowly primrose and the violet blow;
Where the proud oak his lordly branch should spread
The simple cowslip finds its humble bed.
A youth whose modest merits all allow;
That shy reserve and unassuming air,
His innate value and his sense declare;
Of nature amiable, of manners mild,
In want of confidence a very child:
But so much diffidence his worth conceals,
And much too low his place in life he feels;
Loves from his proper level to retreat,
And fix his station in a humbler seat,
Amidst associates of inferior birth,
Who know not how to estimate that worth.
Ah! sure 'tis pity that so fair a soul,
Misplac'd timidity should thus controul;
On the rich soil where towering elm should grow
The lowly primrose and the violet blow;
Where the proud oak his lordly branch should spread
The simple cowslip finds its humble bed.
Now mark the low disgusting contrast seen
In H****m's mind, contemptible and mean;
In every way inferior to the youth
Whose mild acquirements I have penn'd with truth;
A weed unseemly from the dirt that sprung,
And still a stranger to his mother tongue:
Yet pert, loquacious, impudent, and free,
The fop of folly to the last degree:
Oppressive, proud, and pitiless, to each
Whom poverty has placed within his reach,
'Tis fortune only gives him the pretence;
His dullest cow-boy equals him in sense—
Yet this man apes the fashionable school,
A monkey mimic of each strutting fool;
A mark of pity for the class he'd scorn,
Of ridicule for those superior born.
In H****m's mind, contemptible and mean;
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Whose mild acquirements I have penn'd with truth;
A weed unseemly from the dirt that sprung,
And still a stranger to his mother tongue:
Yet pert, loquacious, impudent, and free,
The fop of folly to the last degree:
Oppressive, proud, and pitiless, to each
Whom poverty has placed within his reach,
'Tis fortune only gives him the pretence;
His dullest cow-boy equals him in sense—
Yet this man apes the fashionable school,
A monkey mimic of each strutting fool;
A mark of pity for the class he'd scorn,
Of ridicule for those superior born.
Such is the man selected to advance
By the dull hand of undiscerning chance;
Blind blundering fate has given to his arms
A wife adorn'd with woman's brightest charms;
Of mind as fair as poet's chastest thought,
With every soft acquirement richly fraught.
Would that he'd learn by her superior lights
How much contempt pert ignorance excites:
Would he'd discover from so bright a star
What silly objects self-plum'd dunces are;
Be taught to prize his own sweet person less—
His mass of hack'd impertinence repress;
In conscious dulness all pretensions sink,
And thus into his native nothing shrink.
But who from yonder card-room now comes forth?
By the dull hand of undiscerning chance;
Blind blundering fate has given to his arms
A wife adorn'd with woman's brightest charms;
Of mind as fair as poet's chastest thought,
With every soft acquirement richly fraught.
Would that he'd learn by her superior lights
How much contempt pert ignorance excites:
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What silly objects self-plum'd dunces are;
Be taught to prize his own sweet person less—
His mass of hack'd impertinence repress;
In conscious dulness all pretensions sink,
And thus into his native nothing shrink.
A miller!—aye, and one of real worth:
Kind in his actions, in his dealings just,
Of fraud incapable, as of distrust;
No friend forgets, no poor companion leaves,
No evil deed e'er does, or one believes—
Yet P*lch*r here will be the last to know
His is the portrait I would wish to shew.
Next, just behind, 'tis C*w*l that you see,
A yeoman in its proudest sense is he;
A liberal candid man, yet modest too,
I love to praise where so much praise is due:
I know not a more unaffected mind,
A heart more generous 'twere hard to find.
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Would 'twere the fashion of dame Fortune's freak,
Her favourites in true desert to seek—
To judge how each in opulence would live,
And wealth proportion'd to their spirit give;
Retrench from such as hoard their heaps of gold,
Not to impart the treasure but behold:
And upon those her juster favours pour
Whose hearts are form'd to promulgate the store;
A W**lf*t then had met her utmost scorn,
And C*w*l liv'd in wealth as he was born.
Her favourites in true desert to seek—
To judge how each in opulence would live,
And wealth proportion'd to their spirit give;
Retrench from such as hoard their heaps of gold,
Not to impart the treasure but behold:
And upon those her juster favours pour
Whose hearts are form'd to promulgate the store;
A W**lf*t then had met her utmost scorn,
And C*w*l liv'd in wealth as he was born.
Methinks that lady somewhere else I've seen;
Yes, it is Sl***r by her step and mien;
Oft have I mark'd her, pacing Margate's sand,
With her fine children, one in either hand;
Ever awake to the maternal call,
For it deserting theatre and ball.
Sl***r! for this thy merits I proclaim,
Whilst thou shalt blush to find it written fame.
What little lively laughing sylph is that?
Yes, it is Sl***r by her step and mien;
Oft have I mark'd her, pacing Margate's sand,
With her fine children, one in either hand;
Ever awake to the maternal call,
For it deserting theatre and ball.
Sl***r! for this thy merits I proclaim,
Whilst thou shalt blush to find it written fame.
It is the Creole, amiable D*l Pr*tte—
Her form aerial sliding swift along
The mazy ring, and through the jocund throng,
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Each note appears an echo to her feet.
But where is B*ys, whose high elastic bound
Would dart so nimbly on this fairy ground;
Whose steps of light'ning with surprise we trac'd
Uniting so much harmony and taste?
Where's Laura Ch****n? she whose sloe-black eyes
Shot light more radiant than the summer skies;
Whose sweet, obliging, and good-humour'd mien
So much increas'd the beauty of the scene—
Alas! far other objects now employ
These late so lively votaries of joy;
And Pity weeps their tender bosoms torn
For relatives that now yon heaven adorn.
Would dart so nimbly on this fairy ground;
Whose steps of light'ning with surprise we trac'd
Uniting so much harmony and taste?
Where's Laura Ch****n? she whose sloe-black eyes
Shot light more radiant than the summer skies;
Whose sweet, obliging, and good-humour'd mien
So much increas'd the beauty of the scene—
Alas! far other objects now employ
These late so lively votaries of joy;
And Pity weeps their tender bosoms torn
For relatives that now yon heaven adorn.
Poor Laura Ch****n! cruel was the shock—
Soft blossom riven from its parent stock!
Fair bud! disconsolate, and drench'd in woe,
I may not bid thy griefs forget to flow!
The tear a daughter sheds o'er parent's doom
Is the best ornament that decks his tomb,
The dew that makes his virtues round his gravestone bloom.
Soft blossom riven from its parent stock!
Fair bud! disconsolate, and drench'd in woe,
I may not bid thy griefs forget to flow!
The tear a daughter sheds o'er parent's doom
Is the best ornament that decks his tomb,
The dew that makes his virtues round his gravestone bloom.
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Poor Laura Ch****n! sunk with real grief,
She and her sister strove to tend relief.
The streets, the libraries, the ball, the green,
In these the drooping pair were never seen;
In silent dread, in agoniz'd suspense,
They'd wait the hour that bore their father hence.
A parent pious, tender, good, and fond,
Well may the fair and filial maids despond;
Well may the tear adown their soft cheeks pace,
And the sweet smile that there exulted chase.
She and her sister strove to tend relief.
The streets, the libraries, the ball, the green,
In these the drooping pair were never seen;
In silent dread, in agoniz'd suspense,
They'd wait the hour that bore their father hence.
A parent pious, tender, good, and fond,
Well may the fair and filial maids despond;
Well may the tear adown their soft cheeks pace,
And the sweet smile that there exulted chase.
There stands the man, of keen expressive air,
The soul of genius firmly seated there,
Whom to have nam'd my friend, I would have thought
The kindest favour Fortune lately brought;
If it had been her will for me to bend
That cynic genius to a social friend.
Those features, pale with literary toil,
Have hung assiduous o'er the midnight oil.
Learning for him unlock'd his splendid store,
And Education gave him all her lore,
Gave him, though yet in life's just ripen'd prime,
By various ways the steep of fame to climb:
So that e'en stern reviewers can't resist
Th'Historian, Critic, moral Essayist.
But wherefore thus should I, the humblest bard,
Proclaim what all have done, the praise of C**d?
The soul of genius firmly seated there,
Whom to have nam'd my friend, I would have thought
The kindest favour Fortune lately brought;
If it had been her will for me to bend
That cynic genius to a social friend.
Those features, pale with literary toil,
Have hung assiduous o'er the midnight oil.
Learning for him unlock'd his splendid store,
And Education gave him all her lore,
Gave him, though yet in life's just ripen'd prime,
By various ways the steep of fame to climb:
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Th'Historian, Critic, moral Essayist.
But wherefore thus should I, the humblest bard,
Proclaim what all have done, the praise of C**d?
Upon his arm reclines his graceful wife,
A proper partner for his studious life;
Whose mind, enrich'd with talent and with taste,
With virtue strengthen'd, and with softness grac'd,
Mingles its lustre with his stronger light,
As thus the Pleiades their beams unite.
But where is Fl**ch*r with her artless glance,
A proper partner for his studious life;
Whose mind, enrich'd with talent and with taste,
With virtue strengthen'd, and with softness grac'd,
Mingles its lustre with his stronger light,
As thus the Pleiades their beams unite.
Whose foot was ever lightest in the dance;
Whose easy form so graceful sprung aloft,
Whose air was sweetest, and whose smile most soft?
The nymph has left the Fair of Thanet's Isle,
With other suns to blend her cheering smile.
Her's was a field of variegated taste,
The voice enchanting, and the pencil chaste:
Her's was a mind to captivate the heart,
Where fruits of science mix'd with flowers of art,
And gay good-nature still attemper'd ev'ry part.
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‘Conversing with the charming Lady H***s,
In whom good sense and elegance prevails;
What gentlemanly form is yonder seen?’
In whom good sense and elegance prevails;
What gentlemanly form is yonder seen?’
'Tis stately high-born B*rke**y that you mean—
Unlike his taciturn and modest friend
The Worcester Baronet, he cannot bend.
Unlike his taciturn and modest friend
The Worcester Baronet, he cannot bend.
“No, you mistake,” a wond'ring reader cries,
“'Tis like him, but I can't believe my eyes;
For oft I've mark'd that self-same figure well
In wanton dalliance with some Nurs'ry Belle;
Some pretty damsel of the serving group,
Whom to address a B*rke**y would not stoop;
So gay, gallant, agreeable and free,
You surely err, it could not B*rke**y be.”
“'Tis like him, but I can't believe my eyes;
For oft I've mark'd that self-same figure well
In wanton dalliance with some Nurs'ry Belle;
Some pretty damsel of the serving group,
Whom to address a B*rke**y would not stoop;
So gay, gallant, agreeable and free,
You surely err, it could not B*rke**y be.”
But whence proceeds that distant bustle now?
A Ramsgate party entering I vow!
A Ramsgate party entering I vow!
The wedded consort of a Prince's bed,
The gen'rous S*ss*x enters at their head;
That chaste, that honour'd and majestic dame,
Who at heav'n's gate her lofty right may claim;
That widow'd wife whom tyrant law deprives
Of spousal love, although her spouse survives;
That tender mother who delights to trace
In her dear pledge the lines of princely grace,
Hang in soft fondness o'er her only joy,
And dwell in rapture on her Royal boy.
The gen'rous S*ss*x enters at their head;
That chaste, that honour'd and majestic dame,
Who at heav'n's gate her lofty right may claim;
That widow'd wife whom tyrant law deprives
Of spousal love, although her spouse survives;
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In her dear pledge the lines of princely grace,
Hang in soft fondness o'er her only joy,
And dwell in rapture on her Royal boy.
Much treasur'd scion of a noble tree!
Her hopes, her fears, are all awake for thee!
For thee alone her cup of bliss tastes pure,
And the cup sweetens as thy years mature.
Her hopes, her fears, are all awake for thee!
For thee alone her cup of bliss tastes pure,
And the cup sweetens as thy years mature.
And thou, the guardian of a darling trust!
Wouldst thou be firm, and in affection just,
And wouldst thou see thy manly offspring rise
The proudest object of admiring eyes,
Seek a wise man his talents to expand,
And till with labour'd care the fertile land;
With erudition feed his youthful mind,
And let his genius be in taste enshrin'd.
The fond attentions of maternal help
Must nurse with gen'rous food the Lion's whelp;
So shall her right be royal not in vain,
And strength adorn the youthful Lion's mane.
Wouldst thou be firm, and in affection just,
And wouldst thou see thy manly offspring rise
The proudest object of admiring eyes,
Seek a wise man his talents to expand,
And till with labour'd care the fertile land;
With erudition feed his youthful mind,
And let his genius be in taste enshrin'd.
The fond attentions of maternal help
Must nurse with gen'rous food the Lion's whelp;
So shall her right be royal not in vain,
And strength adorn the youthful Lion's mane.
Let not false kindness, with destructive blight,
Enfeeble talent till exhausted quite;
Lop the vain branches of the sapling root,
'Twill stronger grow, and more luxuriant shoot;
And give at length a thick and grateful shade,
Where thou shalt sit beneath, thy glorious care repaid.
Enfeeble talent till exhausted quite;
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'Twill stronger grow, and more luxuriant shoot;
And give at length a thick and grateful shade,
Where thou shalt sit beneath, thy glorious care repaid.
The avenue to royalty is barr'd
By hand that knows not blame, though harsh and hard,
By the cold hand of stern despotic law,
Which even monarchs contemplate with awe:
Then let him follow the enchantress Fame
Through other paths, and wreath with her's his name.
Let him the bold and beauteous form pursue
Through learning's maze, and study be his clue.
By hand that knows not blame, though harsh and hard,
By the cold hand of stern despotic law,
Which even monarchs contemplate with awe:
Then let him follow the enchantress Fame
Through other paths, and wreath with her's his name.
Let him the bold and beauteous form pursue
Through learning's maze, and study be his clue.
And if the youth the arms of war would wield,
Let him rush forward to th'embattled field,
Embrace her offer'd charms on glory's plain,
And lead through laurel land the warrior train;
But give him first the gorgeous mental fare
The fruit of finish'd education's care,
His soul to arm, his valour to prepare.
Let him rush forward to th'embattled field,
Embrace her offer'd charms on glory's plain,
And lead through laurel land the warrior train;
But give him first the gorgeous mental fare
The fruit of finish'd education's care,
His soul to arm, his valour to prepare.
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So shall his sword like lightning dart along,
With ev'n more skill than now he smacks the thong.
Or if the senate's pride seduce his soul,
Pursue the object, nor the will controul;
Make him an orator—of what avail
Are great ideas if expression fail?
Teach argument attention's ear to please,
Blend force with wit, and dignity with ease;
The voice of reas'ning must call forth his fire,
Or quickly will the patriot spark expire;
Oh nurse that embryo spark within his breast,
And it shall one day blazon forth confess'd;
So shall thine offspring in the senate shine,
And add a lustre to the Brunswick line;
So shall he better hold the state's strong reins,
Than now his little chariot's he retains,
And thou, enraptur'd, shalt exclaim with truth,
'Twas I, his mother, train'd the royal youth:
While Britons hail him with deserv'd applause,
Noble and worthy of the royal cause;
And shout that mother's praise, that guardian's wit,
That form'd of princely mould a second Pitt.
With ev'n more skill than now he smacks the thong.
Or if the senate's pride seduce his soul,
Pursue the object, nor the will controul;
Make him an orator—of what avail
Are great ideas if expression fail?
Teach argument attention's ear to please,
Blend force with wit, and dignity with ease;
The voice of reas'ning must call forth his fire,
Or quickly will the patriot spark expire;
Oh nurse that embryo spark within his breast,
And it shall one day blazon forth confess'd;
So shall thine offspring in the senate shine,
And add a lustre to the Brunswick line;
So shall he better hold the state's strong reins,
Than now his little chariot's he retains,
And thou, enraptur'd, shalt exclaim with truth,
'Twas I, his mother, train'd the royal youth:
While Britons hail him with deserv'd applause,
Noble and worthy of the royal cause;
67
That form'd of princely mould a second Pitt.
Lamented Pitt! whose mind shone forth awhile
The star, the glory of Britannia's isle—
Who long presiding at the nation's helm,
When ruin threaten'd all to overwhelm,
Still struggled with the tempest's threat'ning force,
Unconquer'd struggled, and maintain'd thy course,
Saw empires round thee to confusion hurl'd,
Yet sav'd thy country mid the shipwreck'd world.
The star, the glory of Britannia's isle—
Who long presiding at the nation's helm,
When ruin threaten'd all to overwhelm,
Still struggled with the tempest's threat'ning force,
Unconquer'd struggled, and maintain'd thy course,
Saw empires round thee to confusion hurl'd,
Yet sav'd thy country mid the shipwreck'd world.
How soon, alas! thy labours past forgot,
Neglected, left to moulder and to rot;
To all thy wants in life no notice paid,
In death reviled thy venerable shade;
Unnoticed by the public and the throne,
And all they gave thee was a sculptur'd stone:
Ev'n this was envied, scarcely held thy due
By that ephemeral parsimonious crew,
Whose little malice would thy plans oppose,
Their country injure, and support thy foes;
By that litigious contumacious throng,
Who always bray'd the minister was wrong;
Unless he'd yield to their fantastic schemes,
A Fox's ravings, and a Windham's dreams.
Neglected, left to moulder and to rot;
To all thy wants in life no notice paid,
In death reviled thy venerable shade;
Unnoticed by the public and the throne,
And all they gave thee was a sculptur'd stone:
Ev'n this was envied, scarcely held thy due
By that ephemeral parsimonious crew,
Whose little malice would thy plans oppose,
Their country injure, and support thy foes;
68
Who always bray'd the minister was wrong;
Unless he'd yield to their fantastic schemes,
A Fox's ravings, and a Windham's dreams.
And oh! shall it be said to Britons' shame,
Sunk in the tomb they still insult thy name!
But envy's rage his virtues shall defy,
The fame of Pitt was never doom'd to die.
No, long as upright patriots' breasts shall glow
With country's love and England have a foe;
Long as around the British Isle shall roar
Vast ocean's billows, and protect her shore;
Long as the planets in their orbs shall run,
So long shall last thy fame, O Chatham's son.
See where Miss O****w enters with a sneer;
Sunk in the tomb they still insult thy name!
But envy's rage his virtues shall defy,
The fame of Pitt was never doom'd to die.
No, long as upright patriots' breasts shall glow
With country's love and England have a foe;
Long as around the British Isle shall roar
Vast ocean's billows, and protect her shore;
Long as the planets in their orbs shall run,
So long shall last thy fame, O Chatham's son.
“Lord! what a motly prospect have we here!
A bow!—that Doctor as I live to view—
And only an assistant surgeon too!
That odious man, so pleasant whom I thought,
Until I heard he was not worth a groat:
Well, well, I here will still keep up the farce,
Partners perhaps may happen to be scarce;
69
I'll surely cut him in St. James's Street.”
C******n, her fair companion, turns away,
And laughs at folly which she cannot stay.
Her matron sister is the Lady Hyde,
The self-created Queen of Ramsgate pride.
Lady Louisa too I next descry,
Mirth and good-humour sparkling in her eye.
Lady Virginia's form I there recal,
But sure I miss her little lawyer Paul,
Next comes the T*w**ly, supper-giving dame,
The would-be lady of a pompous name;
Her prudent liberality we know,
Her art to keep her cash, yet make a show;
Here half a chicken in a large dish lies;
One slice of tongue encounters there your eyes;
(Her own she thinks perhaps sufficient quite,
And may, for aught I know, be shrewdly right)
A tartlet here, perhaps a jelly there;
None dares to eat, 'twould so disgrace her fare.
You stare at yonder antiquated hag,
That smirks and smiles at every handsome wag;
I know her well—and her advancing age
Perchance had sav'd her from satiric page,
Had there been nought but venial faults to scan,
For venial faults are seen in every man;
But when a str**p*t, harden'd in her trade,
Whose ev'ry spark of youthful fire's decay'd,
Still shews Adultress written on her front,
And, buoy'd by rank, audacious stands the brunt,
Virtue and chastity alike implore
Each honest pen that stubborn heart to gore.
That smirks and smiles at every handsome wag;
70
Perchance had sav'd her from satiric page,
Had there been nought but venial faults to scan,
For venial faults are seen in every man;
But when a str**p*t, harden'd in her trade,
Whose ev'ry spark of youthful fire's decay'd,
Still shews Adultress written on her front,
And, buoy'd by rank, audacious stands the brunt,
Virtue and chastity alike implore
Each honest pen that stubborn heart to gore.
Yet turn we now from her disgusting leer
To see the sprightly Bl*k**ys drawing near;
Than whom, to grace my biographic lay,
More pleasing forms I never can pourtray:
With all the elegance of fashion deck'd,
Nature still waits that fashion to direct;
Good-breeding there displays the power of art,
Simplicity preserves the goodness of their heart:
Each has its sway, and eulogy is lost,
To prize their wit, or love its manner most.
To see the sprightly Bl*k**ys drawing near;
Than whom, to grace my biographic lay,
More pleasing forms I never can pourtray:
With all the elegance of fashion deck'd,
Nature still waits that fashion to direct;
Good-breeding there displays the power of art,
Simplicity preserves the goodness of their heart:
Each has its sway, and eulogy is lost,
To prize their wit, or love its manner most.
What beau is that who flutters o'er the room,
As insects buzz around a honey-comb?
A matchless adept he appears to be
In smiling, bowing, and presenting tea;
Whisp'ring warm homage to a half-pleased miss,
And painting love in all its dying bliss.
Sons of Machaon, he belongs to you,
Though far the gayest of your tribe 'tis true:
Then who's surpris'd when Ramsgate nymphs are ill,
With such a charmer to present a pill?
The pretty fellow! and so good a heart!
He's rich, and his relations share a part;
For instance, when the dear delightful youth
Thinks that his coat begins to look uncouth,
He'll send it to his poor and aged s---,
And bid him wear it as his best attire.
Oh! to resound such merit, for a mouth
Of melody like thine, sweet Captain S****!
The dulcet sounds of whose harmonious throat
None so admire as him who croaks the note,
As him, who a militia ensign once,
Is now a captain dubb'd by his own tuneful sconce.
As insects buzz around a honey-comb?
A matchless adept he appears to be
In smiling, bowing, and presenting tea;
71
And painting love in all its dying bliss.
Sons of Machaon, he belongs to you,
Though far the gayest of your tribe 'tis true:
Then who's surpris'd when Ramsgate nymphs are ill,
With such a charmer to present a pill?
The pretty fellow! and so good a heart!
He's rich, and his relations share a part;
For instance, when the dear delightful youth
Thinks that his coat begins to look uncouth,
He'll send it to his poor and aged s---,
And bid him wear it as his best attire.
Oh! to resound such merit, for a mouth
Of melody like thine, sweet Captain S****!
The dulcet sounds of whose harmonious throat
None so admire as him who croaks the note,
As him, who a militia ensign once,
Is now a captain dubb'd by his own tuneful sconce.
You see yon fair, attracting general gaze,
Whom Venus bids me paint in living lays;
Alas, to copy nature's proudest work,
To paint the cheek where countless beauties lurk,
Describe the locks that veil, and kiss that face,
Like a fair mead that shading woods embrace;
The lips to shew, where love his arrow dips,
The smile that wantons on those lovely lips.
The neck, by lily-handed Venus dress'd,
That curves and rises to the swelling breast;
To do all this—and in a verse express
An angel's figure in an earthly dress;
To bid Amelia's form in song to live,
And with that form her soul's soft trait to give;
How weak is art! from mimic skill exempt,
Nature steps forth, and frowns on the attempt:
The pencil drops, the hand in tremor falls,
And nature's frown the vain design recals.
Whom Venus bids me paint in living lays;
Alas, to copy nature's proudest work,
To paint the cheek where countless beauties lurk,
72
Like a fair mead that shading woods embrace;
The lips to shew, where love his arrow dips,
The smile that wantons on those lovely lips.
The neck, by lily-handed Venus dress'd,
That curves and rises to the swelling breast;
To do all this—and in a verse express
An angel's figure in an earthly dress;
To bid Amelia's form in song to live,
And with that form her soul's soft trait to give;
How weak is art! from mimic skill exempt,
Nature steps forth, and frowns on the attempt:
The pencil drops, the hand in tremor falls,
And nature's frown the vain design recals.
You there perceive the pale Octavian sit;
He seems abstracted in a pensive fit.
Amid these scenes, that warm each lighter soul,
No soft sensations o'er his senses roll.
How chang'd are all those late gay features now!
Why does despondence thus o'ershade his brow?
Can you, ye soft affections, not disclose
From whence, from whom, the source of grief arose?
Ye fond effusions of the tender mind,
By honour cherish'd, and by love refin'd,
Can ye reveal what sadd'ning cause inspires,
Winds round his heart, and chills its warmest fires?
Bear it, blest hope, convey it on your wings,
And tell Amelia whence his sorrow springs;
Bid her dispel that sorrow, chase those fears,
Which wring his soul, and even force his tears:
Tell her his bosom, where her image reigns,
Though to repeat his vows the youth disdains;
Supports in agonizing thought, aside,
A doubtful struggle between love and pride:
Bid her to soar those pretty airs above,
And yield her softened soul to mutual love.
He seems abstracted in a pensive fit.
Amid these scenes, that warm each lighter soul,
No soft sensations o'er his senses roll.
How chang'd are all those late gay features now!
Why does despondence thus o'ershade his brow?
Can you, ye soft affections, not disclose
From whence, from whom, the source of grief arose?
73
By honour cherish'd, and by love refin'd,
Can ye reveal what sadd'ning cause inspires,
Winds round his heart, and chills its warmest fires?
Bear it, blest hope, convey it on your wings,
And tell Amelia whence his sorrow springs;
Bid her dispel that sorrow, chase those fears,
Which wring his soul, and even force his tears:
Tell her his bosom, where her image reigns,
Though to repeat his vows the youth disdains;
Supports in agonizing thought, aside,
A doubtful struggle between love and pride:
Bid her to soar those pretty airs above,
And yield her softened soul to mutual love.
Oh, woman! would'st thou know the secret charm,
From which no spell the mind of man can arm?
Let thine eye beam with modesty's soft fear,
And yet be moisten'd by affection's tear;
Let thy cheek glow with innocence so white,
That heaven itself be jealous of the sight,
Yet still permit a tender conscious blush
That glow to soften, and that cheek to flush.
From which no spell the mind of man can arm?
Let thine eye beam with modesty's soft fear,
And yet be moisten'd by affection's tear;
Let thy cheek glow with innocence so white,
That heaven itself be jealous of the sight,
Yet still permit a tender conscious blush
That glow to soften, and that cheek to flush.
74
But see accomplish'd S--- there appears,
Whose friendship was the charm of earlier years;
Whose gentler manners first my notice caught,
And first refin'd my giddy youthful thought:
And, as once more I view her, absent long,
What scenes of former joy on memory throng!
Of joy awaken'd on that much-loved spot,
Where first we met, and ne'er to be forgot;
'Ere I went forth to meet the world's rough cares,
Its hopes delusive, and its real fears,
To brave its frowns, detect its treach'rous smiles,
And walk secure amidst its latent guiles;
Check passion's impulse, fly each charm of sense,
And strive to keep unblemish'd pristine innocence.
Whose friendship was the charm of earlier years;
Whose gentler manners first my notice caught,
And first refin'd my giddy youthful thought:
And, as once more I view her, absent long,
What scenes of former joy on memory throng!
Of joy awaken'd on that much-loved spot,
Where first we met, and ne'er to be forgot;
'Ere I went forth to meet the world's rough cares,
Its hopes delusive, and its real fears,
To brave its frowns, detect its treach'rous smiles,
And walk secure amidst its latent guiles;
Check passion's impulse, fly each charm of sense,
And strive to keep unblemish'd pristine innocence.
And oft since duty's call, far far remov'd
The bard from those whom he rever'd and lov'd.
Oft, S---, have I grateful called to mind,
That anxious care, those admonitions kind;
Which warmth appeased, restrain'd aspiring pride,
And caus'd each rising tumult to subside;
Which taught me how to steer, nor taught in vain,
My little bark through life's tempestuous main,
From shipwreck how the batter'd vessel save,
Defy the winds, and stem the adverse wave;
The pilot's duty skilfully perform,
Surmount each peril, and outride each storm.
And though between us roll the boundless sea,
My thoughts K---*---*---* still shall turn to thee;
Where youth was treated with parental care,
Where first I flutter'd in poetic air,
Where first the rules of science I was taught,
Where first my soul the inspiration caught.
The bard from those whom he rever'd and lov'd.
Oft, S---, have I grateful called to mind,
That anxious care, those admonitions kind;
Which warmth appeased, restrain'd aspiring pride,
And caus'd each rising tumult to subside;
75
My little bark through life's tempestuous main,
From shipwreck how the batter'd vessel save,
Defy the winds, and stem the adverse wave;
The pilot's duty skilfully perform,
Surmount each peril, and outride each storm.
And though between us roll the boundless sea,
My thoughts K---*---*---* still shall turn to thee;
Where youth was treated with parental care,
Where first I flutter'd in poetic air,
Where first the rules of science I was taught,
Where first my soul the inspiration caught.
But as remembrance these reflections wakes,
The muse of satire from her limits breaks,
Forgets that fools demand her weapon keen,
And dwells in fondness o'er the milder scene.
The muse of satire from her limits breaks,
Forgets that fools demand her weapon keen,
And dwells in fondness o'er the milder scene.
Yet 'tis no matter, for my task is o'er,
The clock strikes twelve, and they must dance no more:
For see, Le Bas the wonted signal makes,
And, like my song, the ball abruptly breaks.
Mute is all harmony, and each retires,
To live in dreams that Morpheus inspires:
My lady B--- to wield her vengeful arms
Gainst those who dar'd to slight her painted charms;
The Lady Bet her proud descent to blab,
A perfect honourable Miss Mac Tab,
Whisper her title with becoming grace,
And beg a guinea with a modest face:
Kill'em his own sweet person to approve,
And score each simper to a proof of love:
Ogle to count how many a whining fool
This night was pierc'd by glance she learn'd at school:
And I, my pen in Lethe's stream to steep,
To act my readers part and soundly sleep.
The clock strikes twelve, and they must dance no more:
For see, Le Bas the wonted signal makes,
And, like my song, the ball abruptly breaks.
76
To live in dreams that Morpheus inspires:
My lady B--- to wield her vengeful arms
Gainst those who dar'd to slight her painted charms;
The Lady Bet her proud descent to blab,
A perfect honourable Miss Mac Tab,
Whisper her title with becoming grace,
And beg a guinea with a modest face:
Kill'em his own sweet person to approve,
And score each simper to a proof of love:
Ogle to count how many a whining fool
This night was pierc'd by glance she learn'd at school:
And I, my pen in Lethe's stream to steep,
To act my readers part and soundly sleep.
| Ball room votaries | |