 | The Poetical Works Of the Right Honourable Lady M---y W---y M---e [i.e. Montagu] |  |
9
TOWN ECLOGUES
MONDAY.
Roxana, or, the Drawing-Room.
Roxana from the Court retiring late,
Sigh'd her soft sorrows at St. James's gate.
Such heavy thoughts lay brooding in her breast,
Not her own chairmen with more weight oppress'd;
They groan the cruel load they're doom'd to bear;
She in these gentle sounds express'd her care.
Sigh'd her soft sorrows at St. James's gate.
Such heavy thoughts lay brooding in her breast,
Not her own chairmen with more weight oppress'd;
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She in these gentle sounds express'd her care.
“Was it for this, that I these roses wear,
“For this new-set the jewels for my hair?
“Ah! princess! with what zeal have I pursu'd!
“Almost forgot the duty of a prude.
“Thinking I never could attend too soon,
“I've miss'd my prayers, to get me dress'd by noon.
“For thee, ah! what for thee did I resign?
“My pleasures, passions, all that e'er was mine.
“I sacrific'd both modesty and ease,
“Left operas, and went to filthy plays;
“Double entendres shock'd my tender ear,
“Yet even this for thee I chose to bear.
“In glowing youth, when nature bids be gay,
“And every joy of life before me lay,
“By honour prompted, and by pride restrain'd,
“The pleasures of the young my soul disdain'd:
“Sermons I sought, and with a mien severe
“Censur'd my neighbours, and said daily pray'r.
Alas! how chang'd!—with the same sermon-mien
“That once I pray'd, the What-d'ye-call't I've seen.
“Ah! cruel princess, for thy sake I've lost
“That reputation which so dear had cost
“I, who avoided every public place,
“When bloom and beauty bade me show my face;
“Now near thee constant every night abide
“With never-failing duty by thy side,
“Myself and daughters standing on a row,
“To all the foreigners a goodly show!
“Oft had your drawing-room been sadly thin,
“And merchants' wives close by the chair been seen;
“Had not I amply fill'd the empty space,
“And sav'd your highness from the dire disgrace.
“For this new-set the jewels for my hair?
“Ah! princess! with what zeal have I pursu'd!
“Almost forgot the duty of a prude.
“Thinking I never could attend too soon,
“I've miss'd my prayers, to get me dress'd by noon.
“For thee, ah! what for thee did I resign?
“My pleasures, passions, all that e'er was mine.
“I sacrific'd both modesty and ease,
“Left operas, and went to filthy plays;
“Double entendres shock'd my tender ear,
“Yet even this for thee I chose to bear.
“In glowing youth, when nature bids be gay,
“And every joy of life before me lay,
“By honour prompted, and by pride restrain'd,
“The pleasures of the young my soul disdain'd:
“Sermons I sought, and with a mien severe
“Censur'd my neighbours, and said daily pray'r.
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“That once I pray'd, the What-d'ye-call't I've seen.
“Ah! cruel princess, for thy sake I've lost
“That reputation which so dear had cost
“I, who avoided every public place,
“When bloom and beauty bade me show my face;
“Now near thee constant every night abide
“With never-failing duty by thy side,
“Myself and daughters standing on a row,
“To all the foreigners a goodly show!
“Oft had your drawing-room been sadly thin,
“And merchants' wives close by the chair been seen;
“Had not I amply fill'd the empty space,
“And sav'd your highness from the dire disgrace.
“Yet Coquetilla's artifice prevails,
“When all my merit and my duty fails:
“That Coquetilla, whose deluding airs
“Corrupts our virgins, and our youth ensnares;
“So sunk her character, so lost her fame,
“Scarce visited before your highness came:
“Yet for the bed-chamber 'tis her you chuse,
“When Zeal and Fame and Virtue you refuse.
“Ah! worthy choice! not one of all your train
“Whom censure blasts not, and dishonours stain.
“Let the nice hind now suckle dirty pigs,
“And the proud pea-hen hatch the cuckoo's eggs!
“Let Iris leave her paint and own her age,
“And grave Suffolka wed a giddy page!
“A greater miracle is daily view'd,
“A virtuous princess with a court so lewd.
“When all my merit and my duty fails:
“That Coquetilla, whose deluding airs
“Corrupts our virgins, and our youth ensnares;
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“Scarce visited before your highness came:
“Yet for the bed-chamber 'tis her you chuse,
“When Zeal and Fame and Virtue you refuse.
“Ah! worthy choice! not one of all your train
“Whom censure blasts not, and dishonours stain.
“Let the nice hind now suckle dirty pigs,
“And the proud pea-hen hatch the cuckoo's eggs!
“Let Iris leave her paint and own her age,
“And grave Suffolka wed a giddy page!
“A greater miracle is daily view'd,
“A virtuous princess with a court so lewd.
“I know thee, Court! with all thy treach'rous wiles,
“Thy false caresses and undoing smiles!
“Ah! princess, learn'd in all the courtly arts
“To cheat our hopes, and yet to gain our hearts!
“Thy false caresses and undoing smiles!
“Ah! princess, learn'd in all the courtly arts
“To cheat our hopes, and yet to gain our hearts!
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“Large lovely bribes are the great statesman's aim;
“And the neglected patriot follows fame.
“The prince is ogled; some the king pursue;
“But your Roxana only follows You.
“Despis'd Roxana, cease, and try to find
“Some other, since the princess proves unkind:
“Perhaps it is not hard to find at court,
“If not a greater, a more firm support.”
“And the neglected patriot follows fame.
“The prince is ogled; some the king pursue;
“But your Roxana only follows You.
“Despis'd Roxana, cease, and try to find
“Some other, since the princess proves unkind:
“Perhaps it is not hard to find at court,
“If not a greater, a more firm support.”
14
TUESDAY.
St. James's Coffee-House.Silliander and Patch.
Thou, who so many favours hast receiv'd,
Wond'rous to tell, and hard to be believ'd,
Oh! H---d, to my lays attention lend,
Hear how two lovers boastingly contend:
Like thee successful, such their bloomy youth,
Renown'd alike for gallantry and truth.
Wond'rous to tell, and hard to be believ'd,
Oh! H---d, to my lays attention lend,
Hear how two lovers boastingly contend:
Like thee successful, such their bloomy youth,
Renown'd alike for gallantry and truth.
St. James's bell had toll'd some wretches in,
(As tatter'd riding-hoods alone could sin)
The happier sinners now their charms put out,
And to their manteuas their complexions suit;
The opera queens had finish'd half their faces,
And city dames already taken places;
Fops of all kinds, to see the Lion, run;
The beauties stay till the first act's begun,
And beaux step home to put fresh linen on.
No well-dress'd youth in coffee house remain'd,
But pensive Patch, who on the window lean'd;
And Silliander, that alert and gay,
First pick'd his teeth, and then began to say.
Silliander.
(As tatter'd riding-hoods alone could sin)
The happier sinners now their charms put out,
And to their manteuas their complexions suit;
The opera queens had finish'd half their faces,
And city dames already taken places;
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The beauties stay till the first act's begun,
And beaux step home to put fresh linen on.
No well-dress'd youth in coffee house remain'd,
But pensive Patch, who on the window lean'd;
And Silliander, that alert and gay,
First pick'd his teeth, and then began to say.
Why all these sighs; ah! why so pensive grown?
Some cause there is why thus you fit alone.
Does hapless passion all this sorrow move?
Or dost thou envy where the ladies love?
Patch.
If, whom they love, my envy must pursue,
'Tis true, at least, I never envy you.
Silliander.
No, I'm unhappy—you are in the right—
'Tis you they favour, and 'tis me they slight.
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A club of ladies where 'tis me they toast.
Patch.
Toasting does seldom any favour prove;
Like us, they never toast the thing they love.
A certain duke one night my health begun;
With chearful pledges round the room it run,
'Till the young Silvia, press'd to drink it too,
Started and vow'd she knew not what to do:
What, drink a fellow's health! she dy'd with shame:
Yet blush'd whenever she pronounc'd my name.
Silliander.
Ill fates pursue me, may I never find
The dice propitious, or the ladies kind,
If fair Miss Flippy's fan I did not tear,
And one from me she condescends to wear.
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Women are always ready to receive;
'Tis then a favour when the sex will give.
A lady (but she is too great to name)
Beauteous in person, spotless in her fame,
With gentle strugglings let me force this ring;
Another day may give another thing.
Silliander.
I could say something—see this billet-doux—
And as for presents—look upon my shoe—
These buckles were not forc'd, nor half a theft,
But a young countess fondly made the gift.
Patch.
My countess is more nice, more artful too,
Affects to fly, that I may fierce pursue:
This snuff-box which I begg'd, she still deny'd,
And when I strove to snatch it, seem'd to hide;
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With affectation cram'd it down her stays;
Yet hop'd she did not place it there unseen,
I press'd her breasts, and pull'd it from between.
Silliander.
Last night, as I stood ogling of her grace,
Drinking delicious poison from her face,
The soft enchantress did that face decline,
Nor ever rais'd her eyes to meet with mine;
With sudden art some secret did pretend,
Lean'd cross two chairs to whisper to a friend,
While the stiff whalebone with the motion rose,
And thousand beauties to my sight expose.
Patch.
Early this morn—(but I was ask'd to come)
I drank bohea in Celia's dressing-room:
Warm from her bed, to me alone within,
Her night-gown fasten'd with a single pin;
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And her bright hair play'd careless round her face;
Reaching the kettle made her gown unpin,
She wore no waistcoat, and her shift was thin.
Silliander.
See Titiana driving to the park!
Hark! let us follow, 'tis not yet too dark:
In her all beauties of the spring are seen,
Her cheeks are rosy, and her mantle green.
Patch.
See Tintoretta to the opera goes!
Haste, or the crowd will not permit our bows;
In her the glory of the heav'ns we view,
Her eyes are star-like, and her mantle blue.
Silliander.
What colour does in Celia's stockings shine?
Reveal that secret, and the prize is thine.
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What are her garters? tell me if you can;
I'll freely own thee far the happier man.
Thus Patch continued his heroic strain,
While Silliander but contends in vain,
After a conquest so important gain'd,
Unrivall'd Patch in every ruelle reign'd:
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WEDNESDAY.
The Tête à Tête.
Dancinda.
“No, fair Dancinda, no; you strive in vain
“To calm my care, and mitigate my pain;
“If all my sighs, my cares, can fail to move,
“Ah! sooth me not with fruitless vows of love.”
Thus Strephon spoke. Dancinda thus reply'd:
What must I do to gratify your pride?
Too well you know (ungrateful as thou art)
How much you triumph in this tender heart:
What proof of love remains for me to grant?
Yet still you teaze me with some new complaint.
Oh! would to heaven!—but the fond wish is vain—
Too many favours had not made it plain!
But such a passion breaks through all disguise,
Love reddens on my cheek, and wishes in my eyes.
Is't not enough (inhuman and unkind!)
I own the secret conflict of my mind;
You cannot know what secret pain I prove,
When I with burning blushes own I love.
You see my artless joy at your approach,
I sigh, I faint, I tremble at your touch;
And in your absence all the world I shun;
I hate mankind, and curse the chearing sun.
Still as I fly, ten thousand swains pursue;
Ten thousand swains I sacrifice to you.
I shew you all my heart without disguise:
But these are tender proofs that you despise—
I see too well what wishes you pursue;
You would not only conquer, but undo:
You, cruel victor, weary of your flame,
Would seek a cure in my eternal shame;
And not content my honour to subdue,
Now strive to triumph o'er my virtue too.
Oh! Love, a God indeed to womankind,
Whose arrows burn me, and whose fetters bind,
Avenge thy altars, vindicate thy fame,
And blast these traitors that profane thy name;
Who by pretending to thy sacred sire,
Raise cursed trophies to impure desire.
“To calm my care, and mitigate my pain;
“If all my sighs, my cares, can fail to move,
“Ah! sooth me not with fruitless vows of love.”
Thus Strephon spoke. Dancinda thus reply'd:
What must I do to gratify your pride?
Too well you know (ungrateful as thou art)
How much you triumph in this tender heart:
What proof of love remains for me to grant?
Yet still you teaze me with some new complaint.
Oh! would to heaven!—but the fond wish is vain—
Too many favours had not made it plain!
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Love reddens on my cheek, and wishes in my eyes.
Is't not enough (inhuman and unkind!)
I own the secret conflict of my mind;
You cannot know what secret pain I prove,
When I with burning blushes own I love.
You see my artless joy at your approach,
I sigh, I faint, I tremble at your touch;
And in your absence all the world I shun;
I hate mankind, and curse the chearing sun.
Still as I fly, ten thousand swains pursue;
Ten thousand swains I sacrifice to you.
I shew you all my heart without disguise:
But these are tender proofs that you despise—
I see too well what wishes you pursue;
You would not only conquer, but undo:
You, cruel victor, weary of your flame,
Would seek a cure in my eternal shame;
And not content my honour to subdue,
Now strive to triumph o'er my virtue too.
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Whose arrows burn me, and whose fetters bind,
Avenge thy altars, vindicate thy fame,
And blast these traitors that profane thy name;
Who by pretending to thy sacred sire,
Raise cursed trophies to impure desire.
Have you forgot with what ensnaring art
You first seduc'd this fond uncautious heart?
Then as I fled, did you not kneeling cry,
“Turn, cruel beauty; whither would you fly?
“Why all these doubts? why this distrustful fear?
“No impious wishes shall offend your ear:
“Nor ever shall my boldest hopes pretend
“Above the title of a tender friend;
“Blest, if my lovely goddess will permit
“My humble vows thus sighing at her feet.
“The tyrant Love that in my bosom reigns,
“The god himself submits to wear your chains:
“You shall direct his course, his ardor tame,
“And check the fury of his wildest flame.”
You first seduc'd this fond uncautious heart?
Then as I fled, did you not kneeling cry,
“Turn, cruel beauty; whither would you fly?
“Why all these doubts? why this distrustful fear?
“No impious wishes shall offend your ear:
“Nor ever shall my boldest hopes pretend
“Above the title of a tender friend;
“Blest, if my lovely goddess will permit
“My humble vows thus sighing at her feet.
“The tyrant Love that in my bosom reigns,
“The god himself submits to wear your chains:
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“And check the fury of his wildest flame.”
Unpractis'd youth is easily deceiv'd;
Sooth'd by such sounds, I listen'd and believ'd;
Now, quite forgot that soft submissive fear,
You dare to ask what I must blush to hear.
Sooth'd by such sounds, I listen'd and believ'd;
Now, quite forgot that soft submissive fear,
You dare to ask what I must blush to hear.
Could I forget the honour of my race,
And meet your wishes, fearless of disgrace;
Could passion o'er my tender youth prevail,
And all my mother's pious maxims fail;
Yet to preserve your heart (which still must be,
False as it is, for ever dear to me)
This fatal proof of love I would not give,
Which you'd contemn the moment you receive.
The wretched she, who yields to guilty joys,
A man may pity, but he must despise.
Your ardour ceas'd, I then should see you shun
The wretched victim by your arts undone.
Yet if I could that cold indifference bear,
What more would strike me with the last despair,
With this reflection would my soul be torn,
To know I merited your cruel scorn.
And meet your wishes, fearless of disgrace;
Could passion o'er my tender youth prevail,
And all my mother's pious maxims fail;
Yet to preserve your heart (which still must be,
False as it is, for ever dear to me)
This fatal proof of love I would not give,
Which you'd contemn the moment you receive.
The wretched she, who yields to guilty joys,
A man may pity, but he must despise.
Your ardour ceas'd, I then should see you shun
The wretched victim by your arts undone.
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What more would strike me with the last despair,
With this reflection would my soul be torn,
To know I merited your cruel scorn.
Has love no pleasures free from guilt or fear?
Pleasures less fierce, more lasting, more sincere?
Thus let us gently kiss and fondly gaze,
Love is a child, and like a child it plays.
Pleasures less fierce, more lasting, more sincere?
Thus let us gently kiss and fondly gaze,
Love is a child, and like a child it plays.
O Strephon, if you would continue just,
If love be something more than brutal lust,
Forbear to ask what I must still deny,
This bitter pleasure, this destructive joy,
So closely follow'd by the dismal train
Of cutting shame, and guilt's heart-piercing pain.
If love be something more than brutal lust,
Forbear to ask what I must still deny,
This bitter pleasure, this destructive joy,
So closely follow'd by the dismal train
Of cutting shame, and guilt's heart-piercing pain.
She paus'd; and fix'd her eyes upon her fan;
He took a pinch of snuff, and thus began;
Madam, if love—but he could say no more,
For Mademoiselle came rapping at the door.
The dangerous moments no adieus afford;
—Begone, she cries, I'm sure I hear my lord.
The lover starts from his unfinish'd loves,
To snatch his hat, and seek his scatter'd gloves:
The sighing dame to meet her dear prepares,
While Strephon cursing slips down the back-stairs.
He took a pinch of snuff, and thus began;
Madam, if love—but he could say no more,
For Mademoiselle came rapping at the door.
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—Begone, she cries, I'm sure I hear my lord.
The lover starts from his unfinish'd loves,
To snatch his hat, and seek his scatter'd gloves:
The sighing dame to meet her dear prepares,
While Strephon cursing slips down the back-stairs.
40
SATURDAY.
The Small-Pox.
Flavia.
The wretched Flavia on her couch reclin'd,
Thus breath'd the anguish of a wounded mind,
A glass revers'd in her right hand she bore,
For now she shun'd the face she sought before.
Thus breath'd the anguish of a wounded mind,
A glass revers'd in her right hand she bore,
For now she shun'd the face she sought before.
“How am I chang'd! alas! how am I grown
“A frightful spectre, to myself unknown!
“Where's my complexion? where my radiant bloom,
“That promis'd happiness for years to come?
“Then with what pleasure I this face survey'd!
“To look once more, my visits oft delay'd!
“Charm'd with the view, a fresher red would rise,
“And a new life shot sparkling from my eyes!
“A frightful spectre, to myself unknown!
“Where's my complexion? where my radiant bloom,
“That promis'd happiness for years to come?
“Then with what pleasure I this face survey'd!
“To look once more, my visits oft delay'd!
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“And a new life shot sparkling from my eyes!
“Ah! faithless glass, my wonted bloom restore;
“Alas! I rave, that bloom is now no more!
“The greatest good the gods on men bestow,
“Ev'n youth itself to me is useless now.
“There was a time (oh! that I could forget!)
“When opera-tickets pour'd before my feet;
“And at the ring, where brightest beauties shine,
“The earliest cherries of the spring were mine.
“Witness, O Lilly; and thou, Motteux, tell,
“How much japan these eyes have made ye sell.
“With what contempt ye saw me oft despise
“The humble offer of the raffled prize;
“For at the raffle still each prize I bore,
“With scorn rejected, or with triumph wore!
“Now beauty's fled, and presents are no more!
“Alas! I rave, that bloom is now no more!
“The greatest good the gods on men bestow,
“Ev'n youth itself to me is useless now.
“There was a time (oh! that I could forget!)
“When opera-tickets pour'd before my feet;
“And at the ring, where brightest beauties shine,
“The earliest cherries of the spring were mine.
“Witness, O Lilly; and thou, Motteux, tell,
“How much japan these eyes have made ye sell.
“With what contempt ye saw me oft despise
“The humble offer of the raffled prize;
“For at the raffle still each prize I bore,
“With scorn rejected, or with triumph wore!
“Now beauty's fled, and presents are no more!
“For me the Patriot has the house forsook,
“And left debates to catch a passing look:
“For me the soldier has soft verses writ:
“For me the beau has aim'd to be a wit.
“For me the Wit to nonsense was betray'd;
“The Gamester has for me his dun delay'd,
“And overseen the card he would have play'd.
“The bold and haughty by success made vain,
“Aw'd by my eyes, have trembled to complain:
“The bashful 'Squire touch'd by a wish unknown,
“Has dar'd to speak with spirit not his own:
“Fir'd by one wish, all did alike adore;
“Now beauty's fled, and lovers are no more!
“And left debates to catch a passing look:
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“For me the beau has aim'd to be a wit.
“For me the Wit to nonsense was betray'd;
“The Gamester has for me his dun delay'd,
“And overseen the card he would have play'd.
“The bold and haughty by success made vain,
“Aw'd by my eyes, have trembled to complain:
“The bashful 'Squire touch'd by a wish unknown,
“Has dar'd to speak with spirit not his own:
“Fir'd by one wish, all did alike adore;
“Now beauty's fled, and lovers are no more!
“As round the room I turn my weeping eyes,
“New unaffected scenes of sorrow rise.
“Far from my sight that killing picture bear,
“The face disfigure, and the canvass tear:
“That picture, which with pride I us'd to show,
“The lost resemblance but upbraids me now.
“And thou, my toilette! where I oft have sate,
“While hours unheeded pass'd in deep debate,
“How curls should fall, or where a patch to place;
“If blue or scarlet best became my face;
“Now on some happier nymph your aid bestow;
“On fairer heads, ye useless jewels, glow!
“No borrow'd lustre can my charms restore;
“Beauty is fled, and dress is now no more!
“New unaffected scenes of sorrow rise.
“Far from my sight that killing picture bear,
“The face disfigure, and the canvass tear:
“That picture, which with pride I us'd to show,
“The lost resemblance but upbraids me now.
“And thou, my toilette! where I oft have sate,
“While hours unheeded pass'd in deep debate,
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“If blue or scarlet best became my face;
“Now on some happier nymph your aid bestow;
“On fairer heads, ye useless jewels, glow!
“No borrow'd lustre can my charms restore;
“Beauty is fled, and dress is now no more!
“Ye meaner beauties, I permit ye shine;
“Go, triumph in the hearts that once were mine
“But 'midst your triumphs with confusion know,
“'Tis to my ruin all your arms ye owe.
“Would pitying heav'n restore my wonted mien,
“Ye still might move unthought of and unseen:
“But oh, how vian, how wretched is the boast
“Of beauty faded, and of empire lost!
“What now is left but weeping, to deplore
“My beauty fled, and empire now no more?
“Go, triumph in the hearts that once were mine
“But 'midst your triumphs with confusion know,
“'Tis to my ruin all your arms ye owe.
“Would pitying heav'n restore my wonted mien,
“Ye still might move unthought of and unseen:
“But oh, how vian, how wretched is the boast
“Of beauty faded, and of empire lost!
“What now is left but weeping, to deplore
“My beauty fled, and empire now no more?
“Ye cruel chymists, what withheld your aid!
“Could no pomatums save a trembling maid?
“How false and trifling is that art ye boast!
“No art can give me back my beauty lost.
“In tears, surrounded by my friends I lay,
“Mask'd o'er, and trembled at the sight of day;
“Mirmillio came my fortune to deplore,
“(A golden-headed cane well carv'd he bore)
“Cordials, he cry'd, my spirits must restore!
“Beauty is fled, and spirit is no more!
“Could no pomatums save a trembling maid?
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“No art can give me back my beauty lost.
“In tears, surrounded by my friends I lay,
“Mask'd o'er, and trembled at the sight of day;
“Mirmillio came my fortune to deplore,
“(A golden-headed cane well carv'd he bore)
“Cordials, he cry'd, my spirits must restore!
“Beauty is fled, and spirit is no more!
“Galen, the grave; officious Squirt, was there,
“With fruitless grief and unavailing care:
“Machaon too, the great Machaon, known
“By his red cloak and his superior frown;
“And why, he cry'd, this grief and this despair,
“You shall again be well, again be fair;
“Believe my oath; (with that an oath he swore)
“False was his oath; my beauty is no more!
“With fruitless grief and unavailing care:
“Machaon too, the great Machaon, known
“By his red cloak and his superior frown;
“And why, he cry'd, this grief and this despair,
“You shall again be well, again be fair;
“Believe my oath; (with that an oath he swore)
“False was his oath; my beauty is no more!
“Cease, hapless maid, no more thy tale pursue.
“Forsake mankind, and bid the world adieu!
“Monarchs and beauties rule with equal sway;
“All strive to serve, and glory to obey:
“Alike unpitied when depos'd they grow—
“Men mock the idol of their former vow.
“Forsake mankind, and bid the world adieu!
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“All strive to serve, and glory to obey:
“Alike unpitied when depos'd they grow—
“Men mock the idol of their former vow.
“Adieu! ye parks!—in some obscure recess,
“Where gentle streams will weep at my distress,
“Where no false friend will in my grief take part,
“And mourn my ruin with a joyful heart;
“There let me live in some desertèd place,
“There hide in shades this Iost inglorious face.
“Plays, operas, circles, I no more must view!
“My toilette, patches, all the world adieu!”
“Where gentle streams will weep at my distress,
“Where no false friend will in my grief take part,
“And mourn my ruin with a joyful heart;
“There let me live in some desertèd place,
“There hide in shades this Iost inglorious face.
“Plays, operas, circles, I no more must view!
“My toilette, patches, all the world adieu!”
| The Poetical Works Of the Right Honourable Lady M---y W---y M---e [i.e. Montagu] | |