Poems By Mr. Polwhele. In three volumes |
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 | II. |
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CANTO THE TENTH.
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| III. |
 | Poems |  |
203
CANTO THE TENTH.
ARGUMENT.
1. Visits of Sir Hawtrap to Juliet—Her Affectation and Caprice.—2. From the Operation of the Charm, Juliet receiving the Nabob with all the Transports of Love—Assenting to his Proposal of Marriage on a certain Day.—3. The Day arrived—The Celebration of the Nuptials interrupted by a female Stranger—who asserts that Sir Hawtrap had married her in India, and claims him for her Husband.
Tho' often, from on high, the sun had seen
Sir Hawtrap usher'd at Trevalso-green,
To breathe his noonday sighs (not love, it seems,
Could from the pillow chase his morning dreams),
Yet, with no rapture such as wildly whirls
Thro' regions of romance enamour'd girls,
Nor with those smiles, by fashion half represt,
Her suitor's fruitless vows had Juliet bless'd.
Sir Hawtrap usher'd at Trevalso-green,
To breathe his noonday sighs (not love, it seems,
Could from the pillow chase his morning dreams),
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Thro' regions of romance enamour'd girls,
Nor with those smiles, by fashion half represt,
Her suitor's fruitless vows had Juliet bless'd.
For him, 'tis true, that vanity which moves
The female bosom, spite of all the loves,
Its cold torpedo touches would impart
To numb the ingenuous feelings of her heart.
Oft as his steed, curvetting at each check,
Beat its quick hoof, and bent its fine-arch'd neck,
And, proudly prancing, up the pavement dash'd,
Or his high car the gilded glory flash'd;
For him would affectation half unclose
Her pretty mouth, to shew the pearly rows;
Her dimples deepen; turn her head awry,
And with an amorous ogle roll her eye.
But from that eye would tears unbidden break,
And tremble on the blush that dy'd her cheek.
The female bosom, spite of all the loves,
Its cold torpedo touches would impart
To numb the ingenuous feelings of her heart.
Oft as his steed, curvetting at each check,
Beat its quick hoof, and bent its fine-arch'd neck,
And, proudly prancing, up the pavement dash'd,
Or his high car the gilded glory flash'd;
For him would affectation half unclose
Her pretty mouth, to shew the pearly rows;
Her dimples deepen; turn her head awry,
And with an amorous ogle roll her eye.
But from that eye would tears unbidden break,
And tremble on the blush that dy'd her cheek.
Now at the window with disorder'd look
Was Juliet bending o'er a prurient book;
Whence, with a wild impatience oft she hung,
And on the road a glance of anger flung,
Started at every step, at every gale,
Flusht with desire, with expectation pale,
And from her eyes bade fitful drops deplore
Sir Hawtrap's absence never felt before;
When (borne beyond herself in passion's storm)
She hail'd the graces of his polisht form,
Return'd each thrilling ardour as he press'd,
And sent lascivious poison to his breast.
Was Juliet bending o'er a prurient book;
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And on the road a glance of anger flung,
Started at every step, at every gale,
Flusht with desire, with expectation pale,
And from her eyes bade fitful drops deplore
Sir Hawtrap's absence never felt before;
When (borne beyond herself in passion's storm)
She hail'd the graces of his polisht form,
Return'd each thrilling ardour as he press'd,
And sent lascivious poison to his breast.
But 'twas a sting of transport pierc'd the fair,
The fruit of vanity, caprice, despair.
Nor his fond suit, to fix the bridal hour,
(Urg'd from his lips before, with feeble power)
She scorn'd, but fear'd, alas! some luckless star
Might rise with hymeneal bliss at war.
The fruit of vanity, caprice, despair.
Nor his fond suit, to fix the bridal hour,
(Urg'd from his lips before, with feeble power)
She scorn'd, but fear'd, alas! some luckless star
Might rise with hymeneal bliss at war.
Yet at the shrine, while fast the fever'd blood
Now ebb'd, now flow'd, in terror Juliet stood.
Now ebb'd, now flow'd, in terror Juliet stood.
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The priest began: and, eyeing oft the bride,
The wedding noose the priest had well-nigh tied,
And Hawtrap, ‘With this ring I Juliet wed,’
And, ‘with my body I thee worship,’ said—
When, as wheels rattling at the church-stile stopp'd,
A stranger lady from the carriage dropp'd,
And, rushing up the aisle, her sable veil
Flung off—Sir Hawtrap's lips were deadly pale—
And, “Take, (with a deep voice the female cried)
“Take, take, my Lord, your true, your only bride!
“What tho' my cheeks imbib'd an olive's stain,
“Heaven heard our mutual vows on India's plain.
“But if, my Lord, you spurn me from your arms,
“Regard (she op'd her cloak) these infant charms—
“This pledge of love”—Her tale still prompt to tell,
She faulter'd; on the floor as Juliet fell,
With loud convulsive laughter fill'd the fane,
And from love's altar scar'd the festal train.
The wedding noose the priest had well-nigh tied,
And Hawtrap, ‘With this ring I Juliet wed,’
And, ‘with my body I thee worship,’ said—
When, as wheels rattling at the church-stile stopp'd,
A stranger lady from the carriage dropp'd,
And, rushing up the aisle, her sable veil
Flung off—Sir Hawtrap's lips were deadly pale—
And, “Take, (with a deep voice the female cried)
“Take, take, my Lord, your true, your only bride!
“What tho' my cheeks imbib'd an olive's stain,
“Heaven heard our mutual vows on India's plain.
“But if, my Lord, you spurn me from your arms,
“Regard (she op'd her cloak) these infant charms—
“This pledge of love”—Her tale still prompt to tell,
She faulter'd; on the floor as Juliet fell,
With loud convulsive laughter fill'd the fane,
And from love's altar scar'd the festal train.
END OF THE TENTH CANTO.
| Poems | |