"My dear," said he, "you've argued wondrous well, Enough that it hath met my approbation; Fair Coventry, it's free from all taxation, - If but these terms your approbation meetThat you ride naked through the public street." Godiva started well indeed she might, She almost doubted her own ears' veracity; My modest pen can scarce endure to write A speech of such unparalleled audacity. Leofric thought he had perplexed her quite, And grinned immensely at his own sagacity; Shame on the heartless churl!-could he repose For him, albeit the author of its woes, Throbbed with affection, warm, and chaste, and true! And could he thus its holy charms expose Unveiled and blushing to the public view! Ay, bid slaves gaze on beauties, which alone (Though kings had sighed for) he might call his own! And yet, I can't but own that modern spouses I've seen, in many fashionable houses, The ladies waltzing in complete undress; A custom which no sort of feeling rouses Amongst their husbands-and I must confess, (Being unmarried) that I see no faults in Ladies, young, lovely, and half-naked, waltzing. I must say I enjoy it- 't is a pleasure Good-natured fair ones grant to amorous swains; I like to whirl to that bewildering measure, Which, "just like love "--or brandy, turns one's brains; I like to view my partner's charms at leisure, Let jealous husbands (if such still there be In this improving age) cry out "For shame!" Let Quakers say our manners are too free, And gouty folks quadrilles and waltzes blame; In such reproaches-till I'm blind and lame. These are new doctrines: in Godiva's age Oh! matrimonial love, which I so long Thou should'st be chaste, though ardent; mild, though strong; Thou should'st be-all that in my heart's recess And thou, fair image, whatsoe'er thou art, In many a midnight dream appear again; And if not all a phantom of my thought, And thou indeed hast being, may thy young And sinless years be happy, and may nought That tastes of sorrow in thy path be flung: May purest lessons thy young heart be taught, And each expanding thought to virtue strung; May'st thou have some accomplishments-much grace, And lovely as thy spirit be-thy face. I shall be quite enraptured if you sing, So but your taste is pure as was the Attics'; Of Chemistry-and Greek—and Hydrostatic ; I mention this, because I know some ladies Too long in telling-but it's nearly o'er : Too well she knew to_wake him would be vain, And all she had effected be undone. She lay, and communed with her heart and brain,— Her thoughts I know not; but when morning shone, She told her husband, with a steadfast eye, She had revolved the matter- and would try. Her speech on this occasion I'd recorded Yet scope for mirth it might have well afforded To modern misses of our British breed; And grave Blue-stockings would, no doubt, have said, "Godiva's heart was better than her head." Had she at some snug boarding-school been placed, And had, at twelve years old, more general knowledge She turned, and left his lordship sore perplexed, And knew not whether to feel pleased or vexed; Who could so bold a resolution make;" But then, he felt he never could retract, (At least he would not-which was much the same), And if his wife thought proper thus to act, It was an idle morn in Coventry, The people wandered through the gloomy mart; Labour with hope was o'er, and listlessly Their footsteps traversed each unheeded part; Despair was yielding fast to apathy They were prepared to die,—and every heart Its weight of woe had half forgot to feel,When in their ears shrill rung a trumpet-peal. There was a sudden crowding round the space Whence the sound came-and then from man to man, Throughout the full and spacious market-place, A sudden, cold, electric shudder ran; And each glanced quickly on his neighbour's face, A breathless pause succeeded, then arose On through the multitude-yet grows not loud, Noon came, yet ne'er in Coventry had reigned, In Oriental Tales, where all were bound What were Godiva's thoughts at that dread hour In her lone chamber? Silent did she kneel,Her deep blue eyes raised meekly to the Power Of Heaven, in dumb, yet eloquent appeal. And the calm rapture of the silent skies The lady rose from prayer, with cheek o'er-flushed, The anguished beatings of her heart were hushed, |