In Swift's or Horace Walpole's letters, I think it is mentioned that somebody, regretting the loss of a friend, was answered by an universal Pylades: When I lose one, I go to the St. James's Coffeehouse, and take another." I recollect having heard an anecdote of the same kind. Sir W. D. was a great gamester. Coming in one day to the club of which he was a member, he was observed to look melancholy. What is the matter, Sir William?' cried Hare, of facetious memory. Ah,' replied Sir W., I have just lost poor Lady D. Lost! What at-Quinze or Hazard? was the consolatory rejoinder of the querist. His inexperience moved her gentle ruth, And (as her junior by six weeks) his youth. LII. These forty days' advantage of her years- And noble births, nor dread the enumerationGave her a right to have maternal fears For a young gentleman's fit education; Though she was far from that leap-year, whose leap In female dates, strikes Time all of a heap LIII. Advance beyond, while they could pass for new. Oh Time! why dost not pause? Thy scythe, so dirty With rust, should surely cease to hack and hew. Reset it: shave more smoothly, also slower, If but to keep thy credit as a mower. LIV. But Adeline was far from that ripe age, My Muse despises reference, as you've guess'd By this time;-but strike six from seven-andtwenty, And you will find her sum of years in plenty. LV. At sixteen she came out, presented, vaunted; LVI. Since then she had sparkled through three glow. ing winters, Admired, adored; but also so correct. That she had puzzled all the acutest hinters, Without the apparel of being circumspect. They could not even glean the slightest splinters From off the marble, which had no defect. She had also snatch'd a moment, since her marriage, To bear a son and heir-and one iniscarriage. LVII. Fondly the wheeling fire-flies flew around her, Those little glitterers of the London night: But none of these possess'd a sting to wound herShe was a pitch beyond a coxcomb's flight. Perhaps she wish'd an aspirant profounder: But whatsoe'er she wish'd, she acted right: And whether coldness, pride, or virtue, dignify A woman, so she's good, what does it signify! LVIII. I hate a motive, like a lingering bottle, Which with the landlord makes too long a stand, Leaving all claretless the unmoisten'd throttle, Especially with politics on hand: I hate it, as I hate a drove of cattle, Who whirl the dust, as simooms whirl the sand: hate it, as I hate an argument, A laureate's ode, or servile peer's 'content.' LIX. 'Tis sad to hack into the roots of things, Would make indeed some melancholy mirth; LX. With the kind view of saving an éclat, (For foreigners don't know that a faux pas The Lady Adeline resolved to take Such measures as she thought might best impede The further progress of this sad mistake. She thought with some simplicity indeed; But innocence is bold even at the stake, And simple in the world, and doth not need, It was not that she fear'd the very worst: Into a scene, and swell the clients' clan LXIII. Her Grace, too, pass'd for being an intrigante, The sort of thing to turn a young man's head, The famous Chancellor Oxenstiern said to his son, on the latter expressing his surprise upon the great effects arising from petty causes in the presumed mystery of politics: You see by this, my son, with how little wisdom the kingdoms of the world are governed. No wonder then a purer soul should dread Than wear a heart a woman loves to rend. And first, in the o'erflowing of her heart, LXVI. Firstly, he said, 'he never interfered In anybody's business but the king's.' And therefore, doubtless to approve the truth LXVIII. And being of the council called 'the Privy,' To tell how he reduced the nation's debt; But ere he went, he added a slight hint, And pass, for want of better, though not new; Then broke his packet to see what was in't, And, having casually glanced it through, Retired: and, as he went out, calmly kiss'd her, Less like a young wife than an aged sister. LXX. He was a cold, good, honourable man, A figure fit to walk before a king: Tall, stately, form'd to lead the courtly van On birthdays, glorious, with a star and string; The very model of a chamberlain And such I mean to make him, when I reign. LXXI. But there was something wanting on the wholeI don't know what, and therefore cannot tell Which pretty women-the sweet souls!-call soul. Certes it was not body: he was well Proportion'd, as a poplar or a pole, A handsome man, that human miracle; And in each circumstance of love or war, Had still preserved his perpendicular. LXXII. Still there was something wanting, as I've said- To Homer's Iliad, since it drew to Troy But thus it is some women will betray us. LXXIII. There is an awkward thing which much perplexes, A something all-sufficient for the hear Is that for which the sex are always seeking: But how to fill up that same vacant part? There lies the rub-and this they are but weak in. Frail mariners afloat without a chart, Ling; They run before the wind through high scas breakAnd when they've made the shore through every 'Tis odd, or odds, it may turn out a rock. LXXV. There is a flower called 'Love in Idieness, [shock. For which see Shakspeare's ever-blooming garden: I will not make his great description less, And beg his British godship's humble pardon, If, in my extremity of rhyme's distress, I touch a single leaf where he is warden;→→ But though the flower is different, with the French Or Swiss Rousseau, cry 'Voilà la Pervenche l' LXXVI. Eureka! I have found it! What I mean An accessory, as I have cause to guess. Hard labour's an indifferent go-between; Your men of business are not apt to express Much passion, since the merchant-ship the Argo Convey'd Medea as her supercago, LXXVII. 'Beatus ille procul l' from 'negotiis.' Saith Horace; the great little poet's wrong; His other maxim, Noscitur à sociis' Is much, more to the purpose of his song; Though even that were sometimes too ferocious, Unless good company be kept too long But in his teeth, whate'er their state or station, Thrice happy they who have an occupation, LXXVIII. Adam exchanged his Paradise for ploughing: Eve made up millinery with fig-leaves The earhest knowledge from the tree so knowing, And hence high life is oft a dreary void, A rack of pleasures, where we must invent A something wherewithal to be annoy'd. Bards may sing what they please about Content: Contented, when translated, means but cloy'd; And hence arise the woes of sentiment, Blue-devils, and blue-stockings, and romances, Reduced to practice, and perform'd like dances. LXXX. I do declare, upon an affidavit, Romances I ne'er read like those I've seen; Nor, if unto the world I ever gave it, Would some believe that such a tale had been. But such intent I never had, nor have it ; Some truths are better kept behind a screen, Especially when they would look like lies: I therefore deal in generalities, LXXXV. Our gentle Adeline had one defect Her heart was vacant, though a splendid mansion, Her conduct had been perfectly correct, As she had seen nought claiming its expansion. A wavering spirit may be easier wreck'd, Because 'tis frailer, doubtless, than a staunch one: She loved her lord, or thought so; but that love The stone of Sisyphus, if once we move Our feelings 'gainst the nature of the soil. LXXXVII. There was no great disparity of years, Or like the Rhone by Leman's waters wash'd, The river from the lake all bluely dash'd Now, when she once had ta'en an interest Intense intentions are a dangerous matter: LXXXIX. But when it was, she had that lurking demon Whene'er their triumph pales, or star is tamed: XC. Had Buonaparte won at Waterloo, It had been firmness; now 'tis pertinacity: Must the event decide between the two? I leave it to your people of sagacity To draw the line between the false and true, If such can e'er be drawn by man's capacity: My business is with Lady Adeline, Who in her way, too, was a heroine. XCI. She knew not her own heart: then how should I? (I will not say it was a false or true one) In him, because she thought he was in dangerHer husband's friend, her own, young, and a stranger. XCI. She was, or thought she was, his friend-and this Without the farce of friendship, or romance Of Platonism which leads so oft amiss Ladies who ve studied friendship but in France Or Germany, where people purely kiss. To thus much Adeline would not advance; But of such friendship as man's may to man be, She was as capable as woman can be. XCIII. No doubt the secret influence of the sex And tune the concord to a finer mood. Love bears within its breast the very germ Of change; and how should this be otherwise That violent things more quickly find a term, Is shown through nature's whole analogies; And how should the most fierce of all be firm? Would you have endless lightning in the skies? Methinks Love's very title says enough: How should the tender passion e'er be tough? XCV. Alas! by all experience, seldom yet (I merely quote what I have heard from many) Had lovers not some reason to regret The passion which made Solomon a zany. The marriage state, the best or worst of any) I've also seen some female friends ('tis odd, Upon me; whom no scandal could remove; Who fought, and fight, in absence, too, my battles, Despite the snake Society's loud rattles. XCVII. Whether Don Juan and chaste Adeline XCVIII. A pleasure before which all others vanish, To the next canto; where perhaps I shall |