University of Virginia Library

'Twas pleasant, in the ev'nings, to behold
The motley groups with which the mansion teem'd,
Of various nations form'd, both young and old,
That like to living panoramas seem'd;
To view the waltzers whirling, two and two,
With foot and heart both lighter than a feather;
While glancing dames watch'd, who and who,
In graceful coil, had wound themselves together.
There might be seen the planter from the South,
With touch of fire, but open, debonair;
The merchant from the East, with firm-set mouth,
And dark inquiring eye, and look of care.
Gay Frenchmen too, in social pastimes skill'd,
With manners polish'd, and with lively faces;
Young Englishmen, in Greek and Latin drill'd,
More favor'd by the Muses than the Graces.
Italian counts and Spanish dons, all cold,
Sedate and grave; but let them rouse with ire,
Like snow-clad mountains, they'll be found to hold
The elements that feed volcanic fire.
And well-bred Germans too, of whom some say
They are a heavy, dull, Bœotian race;
But, if the truth were told, as Frenchmen gay,
To solid lore, they join a Frenchman's grace.
And, now and then, might fall upon the ear
The voice of some conceited vulgar cit,
Who, while he would the well-bred man appear,
Mistakes low pleasantry for genuine wit.
Men of deep learning, or of sterling worth,
Were in the crowd conceal'd and to be sought;
Just as the finer metals, deep in earth
Are mostly found, ere to the view they're brought.
Perchance some careless genius might be told
By flashes he unconscious threw around,
That seem'd like grains of sparkling virgin gold
Strewn by the hand of Nature o'er the ground.

Some tranquil minds were made to shine by dint
Of fools' attacks, that waken'd gen'rous ire;
As steel elicits from the stricken flint
The sudden brilliance of its secret fire.
Fierce party-politicians too there were,
Who all their foes in Satan's colors paint;
Those very foes who, when time serves, they'll swear
To be, each one, as pure as any saint.

Some few, who would philosophers be deem'd,
At what is sacred aim'd their heartless wit;
Whose wanton sallies, to the pious, seem'd
The pale cold light which putrid things emit.
From such, our Henry never turn'd aside,
When aught they said was to his ear address'd;
But, by superior lore, abased their pride;
Or, by his keen reproof, their levity repress'd.
He made them know and feel that, in his eyes,
The humblest pauper who could hope and pray,
With heart sincere, above this state to rise,
Was of a higher, nobler caste than they.

Some damsels, even when they did not quote,
Were heard to choose their phrases with such care,
That all seem'd like a book well learn'd by rote.
Henry enjoin'd his children to beware
Of seeking words and phrases grand and fine;
And said, in language, ornament misplac'd,
Just as in dress, was wont to be a sign
Of badly tutor'd mind and vulgar taste.

There were some dainty dames of minds so pure,
Of sense so exquisite, and ears so chaste,
That all around them, soon or late, were sure,
By some unlucky word to be disgrac'd.
If e'er Kate chanc'd to mention leg or knee,
All seem'd with wounded modesty to glow.
Yet, in the midst of wildest mirth and glee,
Kate's mind was purer than the mountain snow.
And, while cold scornful smiles were seen around,
Henry would whisper, she had spoken well;
And that true modesty was ever found
Between the prudish and the gross to dwell.

Dandies were lounging seen in the saloon,
With ev'ry item of their dress arrang'd
By rule; and, ev'ry morn, and night, and noon,
That dress, to suit the time of day, was chang'd.
These exquisites might fancy to unbend
So far, as with some belle a waltz to walk;
But, should they to an humbler dance descend,
Would like the statue in Don Juan stalk.
For why should they their toilet jeopardize?
Uncurl a whisker, rumple a cravat,
Disturb a curl that on fair forehead lies?
What dire misfortue could be worse than that?

Fair forms, as light as sylphs of noiseless tread,
Imparted life and radiance to the scene;
Like brilliant flowerets o'er the meadow spread,
Or ev'ning fire-flies twinkling on the green.
But, though complexions might be found more fair,
Maidens more fit to shine at rout or ball,
And who'd be call'd of more distinguish'd air,
Our Kate was still the loveliest of them all.

Hers was so archly innocent a look,
Such pensiveness with gaiety combin'd,
As show'd a nature that at once partook
Of ev'ry various quality of mind.
When aught of pity mov'd her gentle heart,
There was a light, that seem'd not of this earth,
Beam'd from her eyes, and fail'd not to impart
To all she said or did a tenfold worth.
She, with her brother Charles, one sultry eve,
To seek refreshing breezes, chanc'd to stray.
A wand'ring pauper pray'd them to relieve
His want; nor turn'd they from his prayer away.
They both were mov'd, for he was old and maim'd.
He thank'd our Charles; but such the angel grace
With which Kate gave her alms, that he exclaim'd
“May God Almighty bless your kind sweet face!”