FAIR maiden! when I look at thee, CCCCXXII. Walter Savage Landor A LONG STORY. IN Britain's isle, no matter where, To raise the ceiling's fretted height, Full oft within the spacious walls, When he had fifty winters o'er him, My grave Lord-Keeper led the brawls; The seals and maces danc'd before him. His bushy beard, and shoe-strings green, What, in the very first beginning! Your history whither are you spinning! A house there is (and that's enough) But rustling in their silks and tissues. The first came cap-a-pee from France, The other Amazon kind heav'n Had arm'd with spirit, wit, and satire: But Cobham had the polish giv'n,. And tipp'd her arrows with good-nature. To celebrate her eyes, her air Coarse panegyrics would but tease her, Melissa is her Nom de Guerre. Alas, who would not wish to please her! With bonnet blue and capuchine, And aprons long, they hid their armour ; And veil'd their weapons, bright and keen, In pity to the country farmer. Fame, in the shape of Mr. P-t (By this time all the parish know it), Had told that thereabouts there lurk'd A wicked imp, they call a Poet, Who prowl'd the country far and near, And suck'd the eggs, and kill'd the pheasants. My Lady heard their joint petition, The Heroines undertook the task, Through lanes unknown, o'er stiles they ventur'd, Rapp'd at the door, nor stay'd to ask, But bounce into the parlour enter'd. The trembling family they daunt, They flirt, they sing, they laugh, they tattle, Each hole and cupboard they explore, And o'er the bed and tester clamber; Into the drawers and china pry, Or creased, like dog's-ears, in a folio. On the first marching of the troops, So Rumour says: (Who will, believe.) Short was his joy. He little knew The words too eager to unriddle, Transparent bird-lime form'd the middle, So cunning was the apparatus, The powerful pot-hooks did so move him, That, will he, nill he, to the Great House He went, as if the Devil drove him. Yet on his way (no sign of grace, For folks in fear are apt to pray), To Phoebus he preferr'd his case, And begg'd his aid that dreadful day. The Godhead wou'd have back'd his quarrel; 'Gainst four such eyes were no protection. The Court was sate, the Culprit there, The Lady Janes and Joans repair, And from the gallery stand peeping: Such as in silence of the night Come (sweep) along some winding entry (Styack has often seen the sight), Ör at the chapel-door stand sentry : In peaked hoods and mantles tarnish'd, The Peeress comes. The audience stare, She curtsies, as she takes the chair, The Bard, with many an artful fib, And all that Groom could urge against him. But soon his rhetoric forsook him, When he the solemn hall had seen; A sudden fit of ague shook him, He stood as mute as poor Macleane. Yet something he was heard to mutter, "He once or twice had penn'd a sonnet; The ghostly prudes, with hagged face, She smil'd, and bid him come to dinner. "Jesu-Maria! Madam Bridget, Why, what can the Viscountess mean?" (Cried the square-hoods in woful fidget) "The times are alter'd quite and clean! "Decorum's turn'd to mere civility; Her air and all her manners show it. [Here 500 Stanzas are lost.] And so God save our noble King, And guard us from long-winded lubbers, That to eternity would sing, And keep my Lady from her rubbers. Thomas Gray. CCCCXXIII. IGNORANCE OF BOTANY. I HARDLY know one flower that grows Perhaps I may have seen a Rose, And said, Forget-me-not. Walter Savage Landor. |