Witness the lands which 'flow'd with milk and Then there were billiards; cards, too, but no honey,'

When we have made our love, and gamed our gaming, [more; Drest, voted, shone, and, maybe, something With dandies dined; heard senators declaiming; Seen beauties brought to market by the score, [ing-Sad rakes to sadder husbands chastely taming; There's little left but to be bored or bore. Witness those ci-devant jeunes hommes who stem The stream, nor leave the world which leaveth them.

In play, there are two pleasures for your choos-
The one is winning, and the other losing.

XIII.

XIX.

'Tis said—indeed, a general complaintThat no one has succeeded in describing

Besides, my Muse by no means deal in fiction:
She gathers a repertory of facts,
Of course with some reserve and slight restriction,
But mostly sings of human things and acts-The monde exactly as they ought to paint :
And that's one cause she meets with contra-

diction,

For too much truth at first sight ne'er attracts; And were her object only what's call'd glory, With more ease too she'd tell a different story.

XIV.

Love, war, a tempest-surely there's variety;
Also a seasoning slight of lucubration:
A bird's-eye view, too, of that wild, Society;

A slight glance thrown on men of every station.

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 com-

mon

My lady's prattle, filter'd through her woman.

XX.

But this can't well be true just now; for writers
Are grown of the beau monde a part potential :

I've seen them balance even the scale with fighters,

Especially when young, for that's essential. Why do their sketches fail them as inditers

Of what they deem themselves most conseThe real portrait of the highest tribe? [quential, 'Tis that, in fact, there's little to describe.

XXI.

['em

XXVI.

'Petticoat influence' is a great reproach,
Which even 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 petticoat-
A garment of a mystical sublimity,
No matter whether russet, silk, or dimity.

XXVII.

'Haud ignara loquor, these are Nuga, qua-
Pars parva fui, but still art and part. [rum
Now I could much more easily sketch a harem,
A battle, wreck, or history of the heart,
Than these things; and, besides, I wish to spare Much I respect, and much I have adored
For reasons which I choose to keep apart.
Vetabo Cereris sacrum qui vulgarit'—* [it.
Which means that vulgar people must not share

XXII.

In my young days, that chaste and goodly veil,
Which hold a treasure like a miser's hoard,
And more attracts by all it doth conceal-
A golden scabbard on a Damasque sword,
Å loving letter with a mystic seal,
A cure for grief-for what can ever rankle

And therefore what I throw off is ideal-
Lower'd, leaven'd, like a history of free- Before a petticoat and peeping ankle

XXXII.

A fox-hunt to a foreigner is strange :
'Tis also subject to the double danger
Of tumbling first, and having, in exchange,
Some pleasant jesting at the awkward stranger:
But Juan had been early taught to range

The wilds, as doth an Arab turn'd avenger;
So that his horse, or charger, hunter, hack,
Knew that he had a rider on his back.

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.
He broke, 'tis true, some statutes of the laws

Of hunting for the sagest youth is frail:
Rode o'er the hounds, it may be, now and then,
And once o'er several country gentlemen.

XXXIV.

But, on the whole, to general admiration

He acquitted both himself and horse: the squires

Marvell'd at merit of another nation;

XXXVII.

But, light and airy, stood on the alert,
And shone in the best part of dialogue,
By humouring always what they might assert,
And listening to the topics most in vogue:
Now grave, now gay, but never dull or pert:

And smiling but in secret-cunning rogue!
He ne'er presumed to make an error clearer :-
In short, there never was a better hearer.
XXXVIII.

And then he danced-all foreigners excel
The serious Angles in the eloquence
Of pantomime-he danced, I say, right well,
With emphasis, and also with good sense-
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,

And elegance was sprinkled o'er his figure. Life swift Camilla, he scarce skimm'd the ground, And rather held in than put forth his vigour ;

The boors cried, 'Dang it, who'd have thought And then he had an ear for music's sound, it?'-Sires,

The Nestors of the sporting generation,

Which might defy a crotchet critic's rigour :
Such classic pas-sans flaws-set off our hero,

Swore praises, and recall'd their former fires: He glanced like a personified Bolero;
The huntsman's self relented to a grin,
And rated him almost a whipper-in.

Craning. To crane' is, or was, an expression used to denote a gentleman stretching out his neck over a hedge to look before he leaped,'-a pause in his vaulting ambition' which in the field doth occasion some delay and execration in those who may be immediately behind the equestrian sceptic. Sir, if you don't choose to take the lead, let me,' was a phrase which generally sent the aspirant on again; and to good purpose: for though the horse and rider" might fall, they made a gap, through which, and over him and his steed, the field might follow, See his Letters to his Son.

XL.

Or like a flying Hour before Aurora,

In Guido's famous fresco, which alone
Is worth a tour to Rome, although no more a

Remnant were there of the old world's sole
throne.

The tout ensemble of his movements wore a
Grace of the soft ideal seldom shown,
And ne'er to be described: for, to the dolour
Of bards and prosers, words are void of colour.

XLI.

No marvel then he was a favourite:

A full-grown Cupid, very much admired;
A little spoilt, but by no means so quite;
At least he kept his vanity retired.
Such was his tact, he could alike delight

The chaste, and those who're not so much in-
spired :
[rie,
The Duchess of Fitz-Fulke, who loved tracasse-
Began to treat him with some small agacerie.

XLII.

She was a fine and somewhat full-blown blonde,
Desirable, distinguish'd, celebrated
For several winters in the grand, grand monde.
I'd rather not say what might be related
Of her exploits, for this were ticklish ground;
Besides, there might be falsehood in what's
stated:

Her late performance had been a dead set
At Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet.