Shakspeare talks of « the herald Mercury
New lighted on a heaven-kissing hill: »
And some such visions cross'd her majesty,
While her young herald knelt before her still.
'Tis very true the hill seem'd rather high,
For a lieutenant to climb up; but skill
Smoothed even the Simplon's steep, and, by God's blessing,
With youth and health all kisses are « heaven-kissing.»
Her majesty look'd down, the youth look'd up-
And so they fell in love;-she with his face,
His grace, his God-knows-what; for Cupid's cup
With the first draught intoxicates apace,
A quintessential laudanum or « black drop,»
Which makes one drunk at once, without the base Expedient of full bumpers; for the
In love drinks all life's fountains (save tears) dry.
He, on the other hand, if not in love,
Fell into that no less imperious passion,
Self-love-which, when some sort of thing above
Ourselves, a singer, dancer, much in fashion,
Or duchess, princess, empress, « deigns to prove">
('Tis Pope's phrase) a great longing, though a rash one,
For one especial person out of many,
Makes us believe ourselves as good as any.
Besides, he was of that delighted age
Which makes all female ages equal-when We don't much care with whom we may engage, As bold as Daniel in the lion's den,
So that we can our native sun assuage
In the next ocean, which may flow just then, To make a twilight in, just as Sol's heat is Quench'd in the lap of the salt sea, or Thetis.
And Catherine (we must say thus much for Catherine) Though bold and bloody, was the kind of thing Whose temporary passion was quite flattering, Because each lover look'd a sort of king,
Made up upon an amatory pattern,
A royal husband in all save the ring— Which, being the damnedst part of matrimony, Seem'd taking out the sting to leave the honey.
And when you add to this, her womanhood
In its meridian, her blue eyes, or grey,-
(The last, if they have soul, are quite as good,
Or better, as the best examples say;
Napoleon's, Mary's (Queen of Scotland) should
Lend to that colour a transcendent ray;
And Pallas also sanctions the same hue,
Too wise to look through optics black or blue)—
Her sweet smile, and her then majestic figure,
Her plumpness, her imperial condescension,
Her preference of a boy to men much bigger,
(Fellows whom Messalina's self would pension)
Her prime of life, just now in juicy vigour,
With other extras, which we need not mention,-
All these, or any one of these, explain
Enough to make a stripling very vain.
And that's enough, for love is vanity,
Selfish in its beginning as its end,
Except where 't is a mere insanity,
A maddening spirit which would strive to blend
Itself with beauty's frail inanity,
On which the passion's self seems to depend:
And hence some heathenish philosophers
Make love the main-spring of the universe.
Besides platonic love, besides the love
Of God, the love of sentiment, the loving
Of faithful pairs-(I needs must rhyme with dove,
That good old steam-boat which keeps verses moving
'Gainst reason reason ne'er was hand-and-glove
With rhyme, but always leant less to improving
The sound than sense)-besides all these pretences
To love, there are those things which words name senses;
Those movements, those improvements in our bodies, Which make all bodies anxious to get out
Of their own sand-pits, to mix with a goddess,
For such all women are at first no doubt.
How beautiful that moment! and how odd is
That fever which precedes the languid rout
Of our sensations! What a curious way
The whole thing is of clothing souls in clay!
The noblest kind of love is love platonical,
To end or to begin with; the next grand
Is that which may be christened love canonical,
Because the clergy take the thing in hand;
The third sort to be noted in our chronicle
As flourishing in every christian land,
Is, when chaste matrons to their other ties
Add what may be called marriage in disguise.
Well, we won't analyse-our story must
Tell for itself: the sovereign was smitten,
Juan much flattered by her love, or lust;—
I cannot stop to alter words once written,
And the two are so mix'd with human dust,
That he who names one, both perchance may But in such matters Russia's mighty empress Behaved no better than a common sempstress.
The whole court melted into one wide whisper,
And all lips were applied unto all ears!
The elder ladies' wrinkles curl'd much crisper
As they beheld; the younger cast some leers
On one another, and each lovely lisper
Smiled as she talked the matter o'er; but tears
Of rivalship rose in each clouded eye
Of all the standing army who stood by.
All the ambassadors of all the powers
Inquired, « who was this very new young man,
Who promised to be great in some few hours?»
Which is full soon (though life is but a span)
Already they beheld the silver showers
Of rubles rain, as fast as specie can,
Upon his cabinet, besides the presents
Of several ribbons, and some thousand peasants.
Catherine was generous,-all such ladies are:
Love, that great opener of the heart and all
The
ways that lead there, be they near or far,
Above, below, by turnpikes great or small,—
Love (though she had a cursed taste for war,
And was not the best wife, unless we call
Such Clytemnestra, though perhaps 't is better
That one should die, than two drag on the fetter)—
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