 | Outlines of Edinburgh, and Other Poems |  |
45
OUTLINE THE FIFTH.
“This fellow's wise enough to play the fool;
“And to do that well, craves a kind of wit:—
“He must observe their mood on whom he jests.”
Twelfth Night.
“And to do that well, craves a kind of wit:—
“He must observe their mood on whom he jests.”
Twelfth Night.
Walk not in Princes-street, if you would claim,
Among recherchès people, a good name!
Or if one hasty turn you're doom'd to take
'Midst frocks and coats of patriarchal make,
Whose wearers prove to us the sad results
Of lacking aid from Nugee, or from Stultz:
'Midst hats which Andre would think fit for brutes,
'Midst coverings for feet, instead of boots!
Walk with a look of troubled agitation,
As if you greatly fear'd contamination;
If you meet ladies there, they blushing stop,
And vow they're only going to a shop.
Among recherchès people, a good name!
Or if one hasty turn you're doom'd to take
'Midst frocks and coats of patriarchal make,
Whose wearers prove to us the sad results
Of lacking aid from Nugee, or from Stultz:
'Midst hats which Andre would think fit for brutes,
'Midst coverings for feet, instead of boots!
Walk with a look of troubled agitation,
As if you greatly fear'd contamination;
46
And vow they're only going to a shop.
They have no Mall for fashionable feet,
No pure, and unobjectionable street;
No proper lounge for each aspiring spark,
No sweet equivalent for dear Hyde Park.
No pure, and unobjectionable street;
No proper lounge for each aspiring spark,
No sweet equivalent for dear Hyde Park.
One turn in Princes-street, for eating's sake,
One single turn a man of ton may take,
And sip,—displaying his unrivall'd form,
The bounce of cherry, or a jelly warm;
Or eating water ices in the summer, he
May sigh for Grange, and substitute Montgomery.
One single turn a man of ton may take,
And sip,—displaying his unrivall'd form,
The bounce of cherry, or a jelly warm;
Or eating water ices in the summer, he
May sigh for Grange, and substitute Montgomery.
He may peep into Gow's for new quadrilles,
Or buy the Sporting Magazine at Hill's;
Then turn into the club and there remain
Until Gianetti calls him forth again:
Gianetti! man of curls! whose power is such,
That bristles change to ringlets at his touch;
Who gives a graceful wave to straightest hair,
And makes the foppish fit to face the fair!
Or buy the Sporting Magazine at Hill's;
Then turn into the club and there remain
Until Gianetti calls him forth again:
47
That bristles change to ringlets at his touch;
Who gives a graceful wave to straightest hair,
And makes the foppish fit to face the fair!
Methinks I hear some Don of ancient date,
With only some few hairs upon his pate,
Exclaim with scornful shrug, and frowning brow,
“Ah! all the men are empty coxcombs now.”
But hold, my worthy gentleman! not so;—
Do you remember, forty years ago—
When some expert friseur, arrang'd three tiers
Of round and comely curls above your ears?
If they are fools—you once were foolish too,
Be calm—they soon may be as bald as you.
With only some few hairs upon his pate,
Exclaim with scornful shrug, and frowning brow,
“Ah! all the men are empty coxcombs now.”
But hold, my worthy gentleman! not so;—
Do you remember, forty years ago—
When some expert friseur, arrang'd three tiers
Of round and comely curls above your ears?
If they are fools—you once were foolish too,
Be calm—they soon may be as bald as you.
Here dinners duly are receiv'd, and given;
The fed—and feeders keep the balance even;
To (Blank)
The fed—and feeders keep the balance even;
48
A dinner due,
Be pleased to pay
Value receiv'd on (such and such a day).
No niggard hosts on thirsty guests bestow
Their vile “unfriendly melancholy sloe”
But with substantial luxuries, they sport,
Champaign, and claret, and the best of port.
But oh! ere dinner comes! what pen hath power
To paint the horrors of that dull half hour!
Whene'er day closes, ladies sit array'd
In garments which for candle light were made,
And e'er the tables groan with weighty feasts,
With weighty conversation groan the guests,
Between the courses—they must groan again,
Or “drag at each remove a lengthening chain.”
The Theatre is small,—if it succeeded
Better—'twould prove a larger one was needed,
But no!—from ball to ball, from rout to rout,
From feast to feast—the gay ones fly about;
To see the present ball reflect the past,
And every rout a ditto of the last;
Each feast like former feasts—except the room,
The same young ladies, in the same costume;
The same quadrilles, and with the same grimaces,
The same sweet dimples, on the same sweet faces;
The same remarks, and from the self same voices,
The same ice creams, and cakes! yet this their choice is
To be to-night—where nightly they have been,—
While Mrs. Henry Siddons shines unseen!
Value receiv'd on (such and such a day).
No niggard hosts on thirsty guests bestow
Their vile “unfriendly melancholy sloe”
But with substantial luxuries, they sport,
Champaign, and claret, and the best of port.
But oh! ere dinner comes! what pen hath power
To paint the horrors of that dull half hour!
Whene'er day closes, ladies sit array'd
In garments which for candle light were made,
And e'er the tables groan with weighty feasts,
With weighty conversation groan the guests,
Between the courses—they must groan again,
Or “drag at each remove a lengthening chain.”
The Theatre is small,—if it succeeded
Better—'twould prove a larger one was needed,
49
From feast to feast—the gay ones fly about;
To see the present ball reflect the past,
And every rout a ditto of the last;
Each feast like former feasts—except the room,
The same young ladies, in the same costume;
The same quadrilles, and with the same grimaces,
The same sweet dimples, on the same sweet faces;
The same remarks, and from the self same voices,
The same ice creams, and cakes! yet this their choice is
To be to-night—where nightly they have been,—
While Mrs. Henry Siddons shines unseen!
Siddons! whose graceful form assumes at will
A gay or pensive part with equal skill;
In tragic characters she reigns alone,
The gentle Juliets now are all her own:
In Lady Townly,—in the Jealous Wife,
In all the Dames of fashionable life,
Each look, each tone, is lady-like;—in fact
She really is—what others only act.
A gay or pensive part with equal skill;
In tragic characters she reigns alone,
The gentle Juliets now are all her own:
50
In all the Dames of fashionable life,
Each look, each tone, is lady-like;—in fact
She really is—what others only act.
You may go on in London as you please;
You may be queer, yet neighbours never teaze;
They make no memorandums if you roam,
And utter no remarks when you come home;
They do too much to note what others do,
And see too many sights, to think of you.
You may be queer, yet neighbours never teaze;
They make no memorandums if you roam,
And utter no remarks when you come home;
They do too much to note what others do,
And see too many sights, to think of you.
But here the sphere is so confin'd, and small,
That one man's actions are discuss'd by all;
Like cool refreshments at a crowded rout,—
The spirit stirring scandal moves about;
The sly remark—that certain people deem
That certain people are not what they seem;
Adding that certain other people know
They are—or were—or will be—so and so!—
The hint that some fair maid, though still the rage,
Has certainly attain'd a certain age;
The confidential whispers of the day,
Still whisper'd in a confidential way;
Till confidants the whispers wide diffuse
And all the smiling circle shares the news.
That one man's actions are discuss'd by all;
Like cool refreshments at a crowded rout,—
The spirit stirring scandal moves about;
The sly remark—that certain people deem
That certain people are not what they seem;
51
They are—or were—or will be—so and so!—
The hint that some fair maid, though still the rage,
Has certainly attain'd a certain age;
The confidential whispers of the day,
Still whisper'd in a confidential way;
Till confidants the whispers wide diffuse
And all the smiling circle shares the news.
And must all parties then be dull to us
'Till conversation has been season'd thus?
'Till in detraction's pepper we have revell'd,
And half the words we utter have been devill'd?
Their mite of mischief must all guests bestow
With all they've heard—as well as all they know.
'Till conversation has been season'd thus?
'Till in detraction's pepper we have revell'd,
And half the words we utter have been devill'd?
Their mite of mischief must all guests bestow
With all they've heard—as well as all they know.
Is there no cure? yes one: we all should dread,
To wantonly speak evil of the dead!
Yet surely folks defunct could best endure
To be so treated!—This then is the cure:
To say no more than we're convinc'd is true,
Just to the dead and to the living too.
To wantonly speak evil of the dead!
52
To be so treated!—This then is the cure:
To say no more than we're convinc'd is true,
Just to the dead and to the living too.
I'll moralize no more,—I now intend
To bring these hasty outlines to an end.
To bring these hasty outlines to an end.
As some mamma draws forth with glistening eyes
Her child's portfolio of ample size,
And thrusts upon a stranger, one by one,
The paint, or pencil outlines of her son;
Which though all dear to her maternal breast,
Possess but few attractions for her guest;—
So—but I'll veil my simile,—no doubt
If it applies,—the world will find it out.
Her child's portfolio of ample size,
And thrusts upon a stranger, one by one,
The paint, or pencil outlines of her son;
Which though all dear to her maternal breast,
Possess but few attractions for her guest;—
So—but I'll veil my simile,—no doubt
If it applies,—the world will find it out.
| Outlines of Edinburgh, and Other Poems | |