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 volume of his poems, and containing several pieces hitherto unpublished; with illustrative notes, and an account of the life of the author.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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MISS AND THE BUTTERFLY, |
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 | The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour |  |
MISS AND THE BUTTERFLY,
A FABLE.
A tender Miss, whom mother's care
Bred up in wholesome country air,
Far from the follies of the town,
Alike untaught to smile or frown;
Her ear unus'd to flatt'ry's praise,
Unknown in woman's wicked ways;
Her tongue from modish tattle free,
Undipp'd in scandal and Bohea;
Her genuine form and native grace
Were strangers to a looking-glass:
Nor cards she dealt, nor flirted fan,
And valued not quadrille or man;
But simple liv'd, just as you know
Miss Cloe did—some weeks ago.
Bred up in wholesome country air,
Far from the follies of the town,
Alike untaught to smile or frown;
Her ear unus'd to flatt'ry's praise,
Unknown in woman's wicked ways;
Her tongue from modish tattle free,
Undipp'd in scandal and Bohea;
Her genuine form and native grace
Were strangers to a looking-glass:
Nor cards she dealt, nor flirted fan,
And valued not quadrille or man;
But simple liv'd, just as you know
Miss Cloe did—some weeks ago.
As now the pretty innocent
Walk'd forth to taste the early scent,
She tripp'd about the murm'ring stream,
That oft had lull'd her thoughtless dream.
The morning sweet, the air serene,
A thousand flow'rs adorn'd the scene;
The birds rejoicing round appear
To choose their consorts for the year;
Her heart was light and full of play,
And, like herself, all nature gay.
Walk'd forth to taste the early scent,
She tripp'd about the murm'ring stream,
That oft had lull'd her thoughtless dream.
The morning sweet, the air serene,
A thousand flow'rs adorn'd the scene;
The birds rejoicing round appear
To choose their consorts for the year;
Her heart was light and full of play,
And, like herself, all nature gay.
On such a day, as sages sing,
A Butterfly was on the wing;
From bank to bank, from bloom to bloom,
He stretch'd the gold-bespangled plume:
Now skims along, and now alights
As smell allures, or grace invites;
Now the violet's freshness sips;
Now kiss'd the rose's scarlet lips;
Becomes anon the daisy's guest;
Then press'd the lily's snowy breast;
Nor long to one vouchsafes a stay,
But just salutes, and flies away.
A Butterfly was on the wing;
From bank to bank, from bloom to bloom,
He stretch'd the gold-bespangled plume:
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As smell allures, or grace invites;
Now the violet's freshness sips;
Now kiss'd the rose's scarlet lips;
Becomes anon the daisy's guest;
Then press'd the lily's snowy breast;
Nor long to one vouchsafes a stay,
But just salutes, and flies away.
The virgin saw with rapture fired;
She saw, and what she saw desired,
The shining wings, and starry eyes,
And burns to seize the living prize:
Her beating breast and glowing face
Betray her native love of dress,
And all the woman full exprest
First flutters in her little breast,
Ensnar'd by empty outward show,
She swift pursues the insect-beau:
O'er gay parterres she runs in haste,
Nor heeds the gardens flow'ry waste.
She saw, and what she saw desired,
The shining wings, and starry eyes,
And burns to seize the living prize:
Her beating breast and glowing face
Betray her native love of dress,
And all the woman full exprest
First flutters in her little breast,
Ensnar'd by empty outward show,
She swift pursues the insect-beau:
O'er gay parterres she runs in haste,
Nor heeds the gardens flow'ry waste.
Long as the sun, with genial pow'r
Increasing, warm'd the sultry hour,
The nymph o'er every border flew,
And kept the shining game in view:
But when, soft-breathing through the trees,
With coolness came the evening breeze;
As hov'ring o'er the tulip's pride
He hung with wing diversified,
Caught in the hollow of her hand,
She held the captive at command.
Increasing, warm'd the sultry hour,
The nymph o'er every border flew,
And kept the shining game in view:
But when, soft-breathing through the trees,
With coolness came the evening breeze;
As hov'ring o'er the tulip's pride
He hung with wing diversified,
Caught in the hollow of her hand,
She held the captive at command.
Flutt'ring in vain to be releas'd,
He thus the gentle nymph address'd:
Loose, gen'rous virgin, loose my chain;
From me what glory can'st thou gain?
A vain, unquiet, glitt'ring thing,
My only boast a gorgeous wing;
From flow'r to flow'r I idly stray,
The trifler of a summer's day:
Then let me not in vain implore,
But leave me free again to soar.
He thus the gentle nymph address'd:
Loose, gen'rous virgin, loose my chain;
From me what glory can'st thou gain?
A vain, unquiet, glitt'ring thing,
My only boast a gorgeous wing;
From flow'r to flow'r I idly stray,
The trifler of a summer's day:
Then let me not in vain implore,
But leave me free again to soar.
His words the little charmer moved,
She the poor trembler's suit approved.
His gaudy wings he then extends,
And flutters on her fingers' ends:
From thence he spoke, as you shall hear,
In strains well worth a woman's ear.
She the poor trembler's suit approved.
His gaudy wings he then extends,
And flutters on her fingers' ends:
From thence he spoke, as you shall hear,
In strains well worth a woman's ear.
When now thy young and tender age
Is pure, and heedless to engage;
When in thy free and open mein
No self-important air is seen;
Unknowing all, to all unknown,
Thou liv'st, or prais'd, or blam'd by none.
But when, unfolding by degrees
The woman's fond desire to please,
Studious to heave the artful sigh,
Mistress of the tongue and eye,
Thou sett'st thy little charms to show,
And sports familiar with the beau;
Forsaking then the simple plain,
To mingle with the courtly train,
Thou in the midnight ball shalt see
Things apparel'd just like me;
Who round and round, without design,
Tinsel'd in empty lustre shine:
As dancing through the spacious dome,
From fair to fair the friskers roam,
If charm'd with the embroider'd pride,
The victim of a gay outside,
From place to place, as me just now,
The glitt'ring gewgaw you pursue,
What mighty prize shall crown thy pains?
A Butterfly is all thy gains!
Is pure, and heedless to engage;
When in thy free and open mein
No self-important air is seen;
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Thou liv'st, or prais'd, or blam'd by none.
But when, unfolding by degrees
The woman's fond desire to please,
Studious to heave the artful sigh,
Mistress of the tongue and eye,
Thou sett'st thy little charms to show,
And sports familiar with the beau;
Forsaking then the simple plain,
To mingle with the courtly train,
Thou in the midnight ball shalt see
Things apparel'd just like me;
Who round and round, without design,
Tinsel'd in empty lustre shine:
As dancing through the spacious dome,
From fair to fair the friskers roam,
If charm'd with the embroider'd pride,
The victim of a gay outside,
From place to place, as me just now,
The glitt'ring gewgaw you pursue,
What mighty prize shall crown thy pains?
A Butterfly is all thy gains!
| The poems and songs of William Hamilton of Bangour | |