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One writes, and blots, and reads 'em o'er and o'er, And, every time one reads 'em, can't help spying
A thousand beauties unobserv'd before;
Reviewers make some rhymesters rather sore;
'Twas a sad pity that 'twas in the night, Because, had it but happen'd in the day,
Her weeping beauty had prevail'd outright: E'en then she charm'd her husband's rage away,
And nearly gain'd her purpose-though not quite ; For, after all her eloquent persuasion, He tried to cheat her by a mean evasion.
XXXV. My dear," said he," you've argued wondrous well, : I'm quite delighted with your long oration, On all its beauties I forbear to dwell,
Enough that it hath met my approbation;
Fair: Coventry, it's free from all taxation,
She almost doubted her own ears' veracity;
A speech of such unparalleld audacity. Leofric thought he had perplex'd her quite,
And grinn'd immensely at his own sagacity; For which I hold him a consummate beast, Deserving of the pillory at least.
On that so lovely, bosom, which, he knew,
Throbb’d with affection, warm, and chaste, and true ?" And could he thus its holy charms expose
Unveild and blushing to the public view?
In his opinions seem to acquiesce ;
The ladies waltzing in complete undress ; A custom which no sort of feeling rouses,
Amongst their husbands and I must confess,
Good-natured fair ones grant to amorous swains ;
Which, "just like love”-or brandy, turns one's brains ; I like to view my partner's charms at leisure, Till scarce a secret for the bride remains ;
; While round her waist each wanton finger strays, And counts the whalebonies in her panting stays.
In this improving age) cry out “ For shame!”
And gouty folks quadrilles and waltzes blame; I here protest I never will agree
In such reproaches-till I'm blind and lame.
Let maids of fifty prate of immorality,
Husbands alone were privileged to kiss;
So that such nonsense was not then amiss ;
I find but one case similar to this,
Have fondly painted to my fancy's eye,
My young conceptions of thy purity. Thou should'st be chaste, tho' ardent; mild, tho' strong;
Thou should'st be—hang it, it's in vain to try, Thou should'st be all that in
The lov'd creation of my boyish brain,
To share my pleasures, and to soothe my pain ; Still of my dearest visions be a part,
In many a midnight dream appear again ;
And thou indeed hast being, may thy young
Lest these three stanzas startle folks Platonic-all
And sinless years be happy, and may nought
That tastes of sorrow in thy path be flung :
And each expanding thought to virtue strung;
So but your taste is pure as was the Attics';
Your time away in learning Mathematics ;
Of Chemistry—and Greek--and Hydrostatics ;
Whose conversation is almost a bore;
So wont pursue this topic any more.
Too long in telling—but it's nearly o’er:
She thought 'twas best to let him slumber on,
And all she had effected be undone.
Her thoughts I know not, but when morning shone,
* This line contains a violent confusion of metaphors. For "path" I would read plate."
“ May nought
In my foul copy, and we all agreed *
For one who never learnt to write or read ; 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.”.
XLIX. Had she at some snug boarding-school been placed
Of modern growth for female education, She would have had a most uncommon taste,
And I might now have printed her oration. Her native genius she would then have graced
With stores of every sort of information,
He almost question’d if he was awake,
Still less, what step it would be right to take.
Who could so bold a resolution make;"
(At least he would not--which was much the same) And if his wife thought proper thus to act,
He could'nt help it-he was not to blame!
A Trumpeter (I quite forget his name)