LXIV.

The present culprit was extremely pale,
Pale as if painted so; her cheek being red
By nature, as in higher dames less hale

'T is white, at least when they just rise from bed. Perhaps she was ashamed of seeming frail,

Poor soul! for she was country born and bred, And knew no better in her immorality

Than to wax white-for blushes are for quality.

LXV.

Her black, bright, downcast, yet espiègle eye
Had gather'd a large tear into its corner,
Which the poor thing at times essay'd to dry,
For she was not a sentimental mourner,
Parading all her sensibility,

Nor insolent enough to scorn the scorner,
But stood in trembling, patient tribulation,
To be call'd up for her examination.

LXVI.

Of course these groups were scatter'd here and there, Not nigh the gay saloon of ladies gent.

The lawyers in the study; and in air

The prize pig, ploughman, poachers; the men sent From town, viz. architect and dealer, were

Both busy (as a general in his tent Writing dispatches) in their several stations, Exulting in their brilliant lucubrations.

LXVII.

But this poor girl was left in the great hall,
While Scout, the parish guardian of the frail,
Discuss'd (he hated beer yclept the "small")
A mighty mug of moral double ale :
She waited until Justice could recal

Its kind attentions to their proper pale,

To name a thing in nomenclature rather
Perplexing for most virgins-a child's father.

LXVIII.

You see here was enough of occupation

For the Lord Henry, link'd with dogs and horses. There was much bustle too and preparation

Below stairs on the score of second courses,

Because, as suits their rank and situation,

Those who in counties have great land resources, Have "public days," when all men may carouse, Though not exactly what's called " open house."

LXIX.

But once a week or fortnight, uninvited

(Thus we translate a general invitation), All country gentlemen, esquired or knighted,

May drop in without cards, and take their station
At the full board, and sit alike delighted

With fashionable wines and conversation;
And, as the isthmus of the grand connexion,
Talk o'er themselves, the past and next election.

LXX.

Lord Henry was a great electioneerer,

Burrowing for boroughs like a rat or rabbit; But county contests cost him rather dearer,

Because the neighbouring Scotch Earl of Giftgabbit Had English influence in the self-same sphere here; His son, the Honourable Dick Dicedrabbit

66

Was member for the other interest" (meaning
The self-same interest, with a different leaning).

LXXI.

Courteous and cautious therefore in his county,
He was all things to all men, and dispensed
To some civility, to others bounty,

And promises to all-which last commenced
To gather to a somewhat large amount, he
Not calculating how much they condensed;
But, what with keeping some and breaking others,
His word had the same value as another's.

LXXII.

A friend to freedom and freeholders—yet
No less a friend to government—he held
That he exactly the just medium hit

'Twixt place and patriotism-albeit compell'd, Such was his sovereign's pleasure (though unfit, He added modestly, when rebels rail'd),

To hold some sinecures he wish'd abolish'd,
But that with them all law would be demolish'd.

He was

LXXIII.

"free to confess"-(whence comes this phrase? Is 't English? No-'t is only parliamentary)

That innovation's spirit now-a-days

Had made more progress than for the last century. He would not tread a factious path to praise,

Though for the public weal disposed to venture high;

As for his place, he could but say this of it,
That the fatigue was greater than the profit.

LXXIV.

Heaven and his friends knew that a private life
Had ever been his sole and whole ambition;
But could he quit his king in times of strife
Which threaten'd the whole country with perdition?
When demagogues would with a butcher's knife

Cut through and through (oh! damnable incision!)
The Gordian or Geordian knot, whose strings
Have tied together Commons, Lords, and Kings.

LXXV.

Sooner "come place into the civil list,

And champion him to the utmost❞—-he would keep it, Till duly disappointed or dismiss'd :

Profit he cared not for, let others reap it ;

But should the day come when place ceased to exist,
The country would have far more cause to weep it;
For how could it go on? Explain who can!
He gloried in the name of Englishman.

LXXVI.

He was as independent—ay, much more—
Than those who were not paid for independence.
-hore

As common soldiers, or a common

Have in their several arts or parts ascendance O'er the irregulars in lust or gore,

Who do not give professional attendance. Thus on the mob all statesmen are as eager

To prove their pride, as footmen to a beggar,

LXXVII.

All this (save the last stanza) Henry said,

And thought. I say no more-I 've said too much; For all of us have either heard or read

Of or upon the hustings-some slight such
Hints from the independent heart or head
Of the official candidate. I'll touch

No more on this-the dinner-bell hath rung,
And grace is said; the grace I should have sung-

LXXVIII.

But I'm too late, and therefore must make play,
'T was a great banquet, such as Albion old
Was wont to boast-as if a glutton's tray
Were something very glorious to behold.
But 't was a public feast and public day,—

Quite full, right dull, guests hot, and dishes cold,
Great plenty, much formality, small cheer,
And every body out of their own sphere.

LXXIX.

The squires familiarly formal, and

My lords and ladies proudly condescending ;
The very servants, puzzling how to hand

Their plates-without it might be too much bending
From their high places by the sideboard's stand-
Yet, like their masters, fearful of offending.

For any deviation from the graces

Might cost both men and masters too—their places.

LXXX.

There were some hunters bold, and coursers keen,
Whose hounds ne'er err'd, nor greyhounds deign'd to lurch;
Some deadly shots too, Septembrisers, seen

Earliest to rise, and last to quit the search

Of the poor partridge through his stubble screen.
There were some massy members of the church,
Takers of tithes, and makers of good matches,
And several who sung fewer psalms than catches.

LXXXI.

There were some country wags too,—and alas!
Some exiles from the town, who had been driven
To gaze, instead of pavement, upon grass,
And rise at nine in lieu of long eleven.

And lo! upon that day it came to pass,

I sate next that o'erwhelming son of Heaven,
The very powerful parson, Peter Pith,
The loudest wit I e'er was deafen'd with.

LXXXII.

I knew him in his livelier London days,

A brilliant diner-out, though but a curate;
And not a joke he cut but earn'd its praise,
Until preferment, coming at a sure rate,
(Oh, Providence! how wondrous are thy ways,
Who would suppose thy gifts sometimes obdurate?)
Gave him, to lay the devil who looks o'er Lincoln,
A fat fen vicarage, and nought to think on.

LXXXIII.

His jokes were sermons, and his sermons jokes ;
But both were thrown away amongst the fens ;
For wit hath no great friend in aguish folks.

No longer ready ears and short-hand pens
Imbibed the gay bon mot, or happy hoax :

The poor priest was reduced to common sense,
Or to coarse efforts very loud and long,
To hammer a hoarse laugh from the thick throng.

LXXXIV.

"There is a difference," says the song,

"between

A beggar and a queen," or was (of late
The latter worse used of the two we 've seen-
But we'll say nothing of affairs of state)—
A difference "twixt a bishop and a dean,"

A difference between crockery-ware and plate, As between English beef and Spartan broth— And yet great heroes have been bred by both.

LXXXV.

But of all nature's discrepancies, none

Upon the whole is greater than the difference Beheld between the country and the town,

Of which the latter merits every preference From those who 've few resources of their own, And only think, or act, or feel with reference To some small plan of interest or ambitionBoth which are limited to no condition.

LXXXVI.

But en avant! The light loves languish o'er
Long banquets and too many guests, although
A slight repast makes people love much more,
Bacchus and Ceres being, as we know,
Even from our grammar upwards, friends of yore
With vivifying Venus, who doth owe

To these the invention of champagne and truffles :
Temperance delights her, but long fasting ruffles.

LXXXVII.

Dully pass'd o'er the dinner of the day;

And Juan took his place he knew not where, Confused, in the confusion, and distrait,

And sitting as if nail'd upon his chair;

Though knives and forks clang'd round as in a fray,
He seem'd unconscious of all passing there,
Till some one, with a groan, express'd a wish
(Unheeded twice) to have a fin of fish.

LXXXVIII.

On which, at the third asking of the banns,

He started; and, perceiving smiles around
Broadening to grins, he colour'd more than once,
And hastily-as nothing can confound

A wise man more than laughter from a dunce-
Inflicted on the dish a deadly wound,

And with such hurry that, ere he could curb it,

He'd paid his neighbour's prayer with half a turbot.