The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour collated with the ms. volume of his poems, and containing several pieces hitherto unpublished; with illustrative notes, and an account of the life of the author. By James Paterson |
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INTERVIEW OF MISS DALRYMPLE AND MISS SUTTIE
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 | The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour |  |
INTERVIEW OF MISS DALRYMPLE AND MISS SUTTIE
BETWEEN THE PILLARS AT THE EDINBURGH ASSEMBLY.
Now paused the dance (retired fair Wemyss's beauty),
Godlike Dalrymple, and divine Miss Suttie,
Between the pillars met. The nymphs from far
Observed each other, and had marked for war.
Near as they drew, Miss Suttie thus began:
Godlike Dalrymple, and divine Miss Suttie,
Between the pillars met. The nymphs from far
Observed each other, and had marked for war.
Near as they drew, Miss Suttie thus began:
What art thou, bolder than the boldest man?
Our eyes, till now, ne'er saw that form advance,
Where fame is reaped amid the embattled dance;
Yet far before the rest thou dar'st appear,
And meet an eye the brightest beauties fear.
When Venus crowns me with superior ray,
All come ill-fated here, to fade away;
But if a goddess in that shape descend,
Submiss I yield, nor will with heaven contend,
Lest poor unhappy Gordon's fate be mine,
Who braved the goddesses of number nine;
Fool to divide the myrtle from the vine.
Nor failed the crime the immortals' wrath to move,
Who, sportful in the Mint, laugh, dance, and love.
Ah! wretched youth, what scoffs are thine to come,
For Maitland fixed the irrevocable doom!
Condemned in the dull scorner's chair to sit,
And thresh for life an empty sheaf of wit;
Egyptian darkness in thy works shall reign,
Without one inch of Goshen in thy brain;
Dull, genuine night, without one straggling spark,
But thoughts meet thoughts, and jostle in the dark.
In foggy weather, as two Dutchmen stray,
Thy rhymes shall shock, or wander from their way.
Such was his fate: I war not with the skies;
But if of earth, and mortal be those eyes—
If woman, as a woman ought to be,
Thou deal'st in scandal, and has sipt Bohea—
If Atalantis thou hast learned by rote,
Or minuet steps, new fashioned by Lamott;
Whoe'er thou art—prude be'st thou or coquette—
Approach, this moment shall decide thy fate.
Our eyes, till now, ne'er saw that form advance,
Where fame is reaped amid the embattled dance;
Yet far before the rest thou dar'st appear,
And meet an eye the brightest beauties fear.
When Venus crowns me with superior ray,
All come ill-fated here, to fade away;
But if a goddess in that shape descend,
Submiss I yield, nor will with heaven contend,
Lest poor unhappy Gordon's fate be mine,
Who braved the goddesses of number nine;
Fool to divide the myrtle from the vine.
Nor failed the crime the immortals' wrath to move,
Who, sportful in the Mint, laugh, dance, and love.
Ah! wretched youth, what scoffs are thine to come,
For Maitland fixed the irrevocable doom!
Condemned in the dull scorner's chair to sit,
And thresh for life an empty sheaf of wit;
Egyptian darkness in thy works shall reign,
Without one inch of Goshen in thy brain;
Dull, genuine night, without one straggling spark,
But thoughts meet thoughts, and jostle in the dark.
In foggy weather, as two Dutchmen stray,
Thy rhymes shall shock, or wander from their way.
164
But if of earth, and mortal be those eyes—
If woman, as a woman ought to be,
Thou deal'st in scandal, and has sipt Bohea—
If Atalantis thou hast learned by rote,
Or minuet steps, new fashioned by Lamott;
Whoe'er thou art—prude be'st thou or coquette—
Approach, this moment shall decide thy fate.
What, or from whence I am, or who my sire,
(Replied the chief) can Suttie's tongue inquire?
Like leaves on trees, frail beauty's race is found,
Now green in youth, now withering on the ground,
Extolled in song, or toasted deep in wine,
A while, like lovely Jeanie Stewart, shine;
But swift decays the perishable grace,
And Lady Orbieston scarce knows the face.
Another year does other toasts restore,
And Tibby charms, when Jeanie charms no more:
Then hear my wonderous birth, a tale revered
Far as John Jolly's sounding bells are heard.
(Replied the chief) can Suttie's tongue inquire?
Like leaves on trees, frail beauty's race is found,
Now green in youth, now withering on the ground,
Extolled in song, or toasted deep in wine,
A while, like lovely Jeanie Stewart, shine;
But swift decays the perishable grace,
And Lady Orbieston scarce knows the face.
Another year does other toasts restore,
And Tibby charms, when Jeanie charms no more:
Then hear my wonderous birth, a tale revered
Far as John Jolly's sounding bells are heard.
Graceful the beauteous warrior spoke, and ceased;
A generous joy sprung warm in Suttie's breast;
Keen burst no more the lightnings from her eye,
And on her lips the angry accents die.
With air benign she furled her threatening fan,
And smiled a smile she never smiled on man;
Then thus the Dalmahoian queen addressed—
Welcome, my fair hereditary guest!
Know, beauty (oft I have the tale been told)
Our mothers were familiar friends of old;
In the same childish games their days they led,
And at one dancing-school they both were bred.
By mutual gifts, alternate they exprest
The sacred friendships of each glowing breast:
I lately found, as I reviewed my stock,
My mother's present was a shuttlecock,
That from my infant arm along the skies
On snowy pinions oft was seen to rise;
Thine gave a patch-box, when constrained to part,
Studded with gold, and shaped into a heart.
If to East Lothian fate thy steps shall draw,
Gladly I'll meet thee at North-Berwick-Law;
If mine to stray to Dalmahoia's bowers,
You'll from thy windows point me Hatton's towers.
Enough of beaux to either's charms shall yield,
In the full harvest of this ample field;
Long as those eyes shall glance, those cheeks shall glow,
Let not Dalrymple be Miss Suttie's foe;
Let it around to either host be seen,
We fight for fame and glory, not for spleen;
Exchange some gift on this important day,
Take thou my bard, and give me Rothemay.
A generous joy sprung warm in Suttie's breast;
Keen burst no more the lightnings from her eye,
And on her lips the angry accents die.
With air benign she furled her threatening fan,
And smiled a smile she never smiled on man;
Then thus the Dalmahoian queen addressed—
Welcome, my fair hereditary guest!
Know, beauty (oft I have the tale been told)
Our mothers were familiar friends of old;
In the same childish games their days they led,
And at one dancing-school they both were bred.
By mutual gifts, alternate they exprest
The sacred friendships of each glowing breast:
I lately found, as I reviewed my stock,
My mother's present was a shuttlecock,
That from my infant arm along the skies
On snowy pinions oft was seen to rise;
Thine gave a patch-box, when constrained to part,
Studded with gold, and shaped into a heart.
If to East Lothian fate thy steps shall draw,
Gladly I'll meet thee at North-Berwick-Law;
If mine to stray to Dalmahoia's bowers,
You'll from thy windows point me Hatton's towers.
Enough of beaux to either's charms shall yield,
In the full harvest of this ample field;
165
Let not Dalrymple be Miss Suttie's foe;
Let it around to either host be seen,
We fight for fame and glory, not for spleen;
Exchange some gift on this important day,
Take thou my bard, and give me Rothemay.
She said: Dalrymple's generous breast was fir'd;
Joyful she sprung, and gave the boon desir'd.
All gaz'd with wonder, who the deed survey'd,
For Venus of her senses robb'd the maid.
For Suttie's bard, of mean and poor device,
For whom five groats was much too dear a price,
She gave her Rothemay, a gallant dear,
Who weigh'd full fifteen thousand merks a-year.
Joyful she sprung, and gave the boon desir'd.
All gaz'd with wonder, who the deed survey'd,
For Venus of her senses robb'd the maid.
For Suttie's bard, of mean and poor device,
For whom five groats was much too dear a price,
She gave her Rothemay, a gallant dear,
Who weigh'd full fifteen thousand merks a-year.
| The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour | |