XV. The portion of this world which I at present XVI. With much to excite, there 's little to exalt; A kind of common-place, even in their crimes; A want of that true nature which sublimes Whate'er it shows with truth; a smooth monotony Of character, in those at least who have got any. XVII. Sometimes, indeed, like soldiers off parade, They break their ranks and gladly leave the drill; But then the roll-call draws them back afraid, And they must be or seem what they were: still Doubtless it is a brilliant masquerade; But when of the first sight you 've had your fill, It palls-at least it did so upon me, This paradise of pleasure and ennui. XVIII. When we have made our love, and gamed our gaming, With dandies dined; heard senators declaiming ; Witness those "ci-devant jeunes hommes" who stem XIX. 'T is said—indeed a general complaint That no one has succeeded in describing The monde exactly as they ought to paint. Some say, that authors only snatch, by bribing The porter, some slight scandals strange and quaint, To furnish matter for their moral gibing ; And that their books have but one style in common— My lady's prattle, filter'd through her woman. XX. But this can't well be true, just now; for writers Of, what they deem themselves most consequential, The real portrait of the highest tribe ? 'Tis that, in fact, there 's little to describe. XXI. "Haud ignara loquor :" these are Nugæ quarum Now I could much more easily sketch a harem, Thar these things; and besides, I wish to spare 'em, "Vétabo Cereris sacrum qui vulgaret” Which means, that vulgar people must not share it. XXII. And therefore what I throw off is ideal Lower'd, leaven'd, like a history of freemasons, Which bears the same relation to the real, As Captain Parry's voyage may do to Jason's. And there is much which could not be appreciated XXIII. Alas! worlds fall-and woman, since she fell'd Victim when wrong, and martyr oft when right, XXIV. A daily plague which, in the aggregate, The real sufferings of their she-condition? Has much of selfishness and more suspicion. XXV. All this were very well, and can't be better; XXVI. "Petticoat influence" is a great reproach, Which e'en those who obey would fain be thought To fly from, as from hungry pikes a roach; But, since beneath it upon earth we 're brought By various joltings of life's hackney-coach, I for one venerate a petticoatA garment of a mystical sublimity, No matter whether russet, silk, or dimity. XXVII. Much I respect, and much I have adored, In my young days, that chaste and goodly veil, Which holds a treasure, like a miser's hoard, And more attracts by all it doth concealA golden scabbard on a Damasque sword, A loving letter with a mystic seal, A cure for grief-for what can ever rankle Before a petticoat and peeping ancle? XXVIII. And when upon a silent, sullen day, With a sirocco, for example, blowing- XXIX. We left our heroes and our heroines In that fair clime which don't depend on climate, Quite independent of the zodiac's signs, Though certainly more difficult to rhyme at, Because the sun and stars, and aught that shines, Mountains, and all we can be most sublime at, Are there oft dull and dreary as a dùn— Whether a sky's or tradesman's is all one. XXX. And in-door life is less poetical; And out of door hath showers, and mists, and sleet, But be it as it may, a bard must meet XXXI. Juan-in this respect at least like saints-- XXXII. A fox-hunt to a foreigner is strange; "T is also subject to the double danger The wilds, as doth an Arab turn'd avenger, XXXIII. And now in this new field, with some applause, He clear'd hedge, ditch, and double post, and rail, And never craned, and made but few faux pas, And only fretted when the scent 'gan fail. But, on the whole, to general admiration He acquitted both himself and horse the squires Marvell'd at merit of another nation; The boors cried "Dang it! who 'd have thought it ?" Sires, The Nestors of the sporting generation, Swore praises, and recall'd their former fires; The huntsman's self relented to a grin, And rated him almost a whipper-in. XXXV. Such were his trophies ;-not of spear and shield, To patriot sympathy a Briton's blushes,— XXXVI. He also had a quality uncommon To early risers after a long chase, Who wake in winter ere the cock can summon A quality agreeable to woman, When her soft, liquid words run on apace, Who likes a listener, whether saint or sinner,— He did not fall asleep just after dinner, XXXVII. But, light and airy, stood on the alert, And smiling but in secret-cunning rogue ! XXXVIII. And then he danced ;-all foreigners excel A thing in footing indispensable: He danced without theatrical pretence, Not like a ballet-master in the van Of his drill'd nymphs, but like a gentleman. XXXIX. Chaste were his steps, each kept within due bound, Which might defy a crotchet critic's rigour. 24 |