« EelmineJätka »
On her leaving the Town after the Coronation,
S some fond virgin, whom her mother's care
Drags from the town to wholesome country air,
Just when she learns to roll a melting eye,
And hear a spark, yet think no danger nigh;
From the dear man unwilling she must sever,
Yet takes one kiss before she parts for ever:
Thus from the world fair Zephalinda few,
Saw others happy, aud with sighs withdrew;
Not that their pleasures caus'd her discontent,
She sigh’d, not that they stay'd, but that she went.
She went to plain-work, and to purling brooks,
Old-fashion'd halls, dull aunts, and croaking rooks:
See went from opera, park, assenıbly, play,
To morning-walks, and prayers three hours a-day;
To part her time 'twixt reading and bohea,
To muse, and spill her solitary tea;
Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon,
Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon;
Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire,
Hum half a lune, tell stories to the 'squire;
Up to her godly garret after seven,
There starve and pray, for that's the way to heaven.
Some 'squire, perhaps, you take delight to rack;
Whose game is whist, whose treat a toast in sack :
Who visits with a gun, presents you birds,
Then gives a smacking buss, and cries,--No words !
Or with his hounds comes hallooing from the stable,
Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table;
Whose laughs are hearty, though his jests are coarse,
And loves you best of all things.--but his horse.
In some fair evening, on your elbow laid,
You dream of triumphs in the rural shade;
In pensive thought recall the fancy'd scene,
See coronatious rise on every green;
Before you pass th’ imaginary sights
Of lords, and earls, and dukes, and garter'd knights,
While the spread fan o'ershades your closing eyes;
Then give one flirt, and all the vision fies.
Thus vanish sceptres, coronets, and balls !
And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls !
So when your slave, at some dear idle time,
Not plagu'd with head-aches, or the want of rhyme,
Stands in the streets, abstracted from the crew,
And while he seems to study, thinks of you ;
Just when his fancy paints your sprightly eyes,
Or sees the blush of soft Parthenia rise,
Gay pats my shoulder, and you vanish quite,
Streets, chairs, and coxcombs, rush upon my sight;
Vex'd to be still in town, I knit my brow,
Look sour, and hum a tune, as you may now.
THE basset-table spread, the tallier come;
Why stays Smilinda in the dressing-room?
Rise, pensive nymph; the tallier waits for you.
Ah, madam, since my Sharper is untrue,
I joyless make my once ador'd alpiew.
I saw him stand behind Ombrelia's chair,
And whisper with that soft deluding air,
And those feign'd sighs which cheat the listen.
Is this the cause of your romantic strains ?
A mightier grief my heavy heart sustains.
As you by love, so I by fortune cross'd;
One, one bad deal, three septlevas have lost.
Is that the grief, which you compare with mine! With ease, the smiles of fortune I resign? Would all my gold in one bad deal were gone, Were lovely Sharper mine, and mine alone
CARDELIA. A lover lost, is but a common care ; And prudent nymphs against that change prepare : The knave of clubs thrice lost; oh! who could guess This fatal stroke, this unforeseen distress ?
SMILINDA. See Betty Lovet! very
She all the cares of love and play does know:
Dear Betty shall the important point decide;
Betty, who oft the pain of each has try'd :
Impartial, she shall say who suffers most,
By cards, ill.usage, or by lovers lost.
Tell, tell your griefs ; attentive will I stay,
Though time is precious, and I want some tea.
Behold this equipage, by Mathers wrought, With fifty guineas a great penn'worth) bought.
See, on the tooth-pick Mars and Cupid strive;
And both the struggling figures seem alive.
Upon the bottom shines the queen's bright face:
A myrtle foliage round the thimble-case.
Jove, Jove himself does on the scissars shine;
The metal, and the workmanship, divine !
SMILINDA. This snuff-box,---once the pledge of Sharper's love, When rival beauties for the present strove? At Corticelli's he the raffle won; Then first his passion was in public shown: Hazardia blush'd, and turn'd her head aside, A rival's envy (all in vain) to hide. This snuff-box, on the hinge see brilliants shine! This snuff-box will I stake; the prize is mine.
CARDELIA. Alas! far lesser losses than I bear, Have made a soldier sigh, a lover swear. And, oh! what makes the disappointment hard, 'Twas my own lord that drew the fatal card. In complaisance I took the queen he gave; Though my own secret wish was for the knave. The knave won sonica, which I had chose; And the next pull, my septleva I lose.
, But, ah! what aggravates the killing smart,
The cruel thought, that stabs me to the heart;
This curs’d Ombrelia, this undoing fair,
By whose vile arts this heavy grief I bear ;
She, at whose name I shed these spiteful tears,
She owes to me the very charms she wears.
An awkward thing when first she came to town:
Her shape unfashion'd, and her face unknown:
She was my friend; I taught her first to spread
Upon her sallow cheeks enliv'ning red :
I introduc'd her to the park and plays;
And by my interest, Cozens made her stays.
Ungrateful wretch, with mimie airs grown pert,
She dares to steal my favourite lover's heart!
Wretch that I was ! how often have I swore,
When Winnall tally'd, I would punt no more !
I know the bite, yet to my ruin run;
And see the folly, which I cannot shun.
SMILINDA. How many maids have Sharper's vows deceiv'd! How many curs'd the moment they believ'd ! Yet his known falsehoods could no warning prove: Ah! what is warning to a maid in love?
CARDELIA. But of what marble must that breast be form'd, To gaze on Basset, and remain unwarm'd? When kings, queens, knaves, are set in decent rank; Expos’d in glorious heaps the tempting bank, Guineas, half-guineas, all the shining train; The winner's pleasure, and the loser's pain: In bright confusion open rouleaus lie, They strike the soul, and glitter in the eye. Fir'd by the sight, all reason I disdain ; My passions rise, and will not bear the rein. Look upon Basset, you who reason boast; And see if reason must not there be lost.
SMILINDA. What more than marble must that heart compose, Can hearken coldly to my Sharper's vows? Then, when he trembles! when his blushes rise ! When awful love seems melting in his eyes ! With eager beats his Mechlin cravat moves: • He loves,'--I whisper to myself, He loves!