University of Virginia Library

When beauty, heavenly made, was young
(Time since round Eve the fig-leaves hung)
The Fashions had no wares to sell:
Young Beauty's charms were known too well.
Awaking, sleeping, active, fainting,
She needed nought of Fashion's painting:
Health to her rounded cheek gave bloom,
And freshness was her one perfume;
For stays and suchlike woman gear
She had no heed, she had no fear;
For whalebones to support her round
She cared not, and her lungs were sound.
No thought had she for “taste” or “art,”
Nor dream'd that dress would make her smart,
Till (for Madness ruled that hour)
The Fashions came to bring her dower.

First Love, his loving skill to try,
Pluck'd the wild blossoms, and essay'd
With trembling hands, he knew not why,
To weave a garland for his maid.

Then rush'd in Vanity, on fire
To invent and do more daring things,
That all might envy and admire;
And hung her neck with beaded strings.

What woeful measures rend the air?
What shriek is that from Nature's Child?
Poor Nose! the ring is pendant there.
The savage mother saw and smiled.

But thou, O Hope! with eyes so fair,
What was thy delightful measure?
Still it whisper'd promised pleasure
And bade the lovely ornaments All hail!
Still would her touch the strain prolong
That held o'er natural defects a veil.
She made the feet grow less, the ears more long;
And when a beauteous form she chose,
She hid the native grace in any length of clothes.
And Hope enchanted smiled and waved her golden hair.
And longer had she smiled, but with a frown
More rampant Folly rose,
And tore the old Greek robes in tatters down,
And with a withering look
The shape-distorting corset took
And pull'd and pull'd at every thread.
Were ne'er prophetic sounds so full of woe!
And ever and anon her feet
Set to the back, to make it meet.
And though at times each labour'd breath between
Pains-taking Beauty to her side
Her supplicating hands applied,
Yet still did Folly's purpose supervene,
While each strain'd ball of sight seem'd bursting from her head.
Fashion! thy freaks to nought were ever fix'd,
Sad proof of thy distressful state!
On different modes thy veering wills get mix'd,
And what thou affectest now is what thou scorn'dst of late,
With eyes upraised as one inspired,
Another Fashion walk'd, attired
In robes too scanty much to meet;
While her high heels, a daring feat,
Drove down the narrow shoes her crippled toes,
And one stuck small black patches round
Her lips and nose, as if unsound;
And later Fashions came as strange as those.
Some scented in a sort of hybrid way,
Round a perfumed air diffusing,
Rose or musk or other choosing:
No flowers ever stank as they.
Among them paced a sprightlier scented one,
Hight Full-Dress, nymph-like (some said), pale of hue:
Nothing across her shoulders flung,
Her jewel'd bust exposed to view,
And an imposing air, and voice that loudly rung
A hunter's call,— to Nymph or Faun unknown,
To oak-crown'd Sisters or their chaste-eyed Queen.
Satyrs and sylvan boys were seen.
Low peeping there, the jolly green
Were exercised, the staider thought it queer;
But Sport leapt up and laugh'd and gave a cheer.

Last came Joy's ecstatic trial,
When with faltering step advancing,
And Grecian Bend, the Hump was fully dress'd.
One might as well embrace a physic vial,
Or a lay figure — which perhaps were best.
They who of old admired the virgin train
In Tempe's vale, and saw her native maids
Amidst the festal sounding shades
To some unwearied minstrel dancing,
While as his flying fingers kiss'd the strings
Love framed with Mirth a gay fantastic round,
With tresses flowing loose and zone unbound,
Might wonder if such earnest play
Could be attempted in this Grecian day
By our poor hump'd and high-heel'd fashionable things.

O Beauty! heaven-descended Maid!
Friend of Fashions, duty paid!
Why, Goddess! unto us denied
Lay'st thou thy pristine grace aside?
As in that loved Athenian bower
Unbent thou held'st supremest power,
Thy form, O Mimic most endear'd!
Appear now as it then appear'd,
Where was thy native simple part,
Devote to Virtue, Truth, and Art.
Arise as in that Golden Time,
Warm, energetic, chaste, sublime!
Thy wonders in that glorious age
Fill thy recording Sister's page:
'Tis said, and I believe the tale,
Thy lightest smile did more avail
Than all the wiles our schools enact.
Thou unadorn'd didst more attract
Than all the modern trappings bound
A spoil'd and tramell'd figure round.
O, bid such vain endeavours cease!
Revive the pure design to please;
And once again in simple state
Attract our love, escape our hate!