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Before her Father with her strange petition ;
How moving was her look of meek submission ! I don't know how her gracious Father felt,
But he was far too great a Politician
In every single syllable she'd said ;
And did much credit to her heart and head.
That she should set off instantly to wed
And a distracting scene of course ensued; .
The King swore roundly,“ d- n him if it should; She ought to jump to be so well connected ;"
She still persisted that she never would :
(Oh! subject meet for melancholy verse ;) Nor would the old hard-hearted brute allow her
One poor companion, save her kind old Nurse. 'Twas a sad stretch of arbitrary power,
For the convenience of his private purse :
Was in confusion with this pleasant scene,
Was acting by the Prince of Fadladeen. But 'twould be indecorous to report
Such angry squabbles as should ne'er have been. The Youth, in short, was of the Lady's mind, And like the Lady was the Youth confin'd.
Nor deem him quite to your attractions blind,
And careless of the eyes of womankind. Perhaps some luckier beauty had the start
Of poor Badoura in his wayward mind; Perhaps some young Court-Siren's fascination Within his breast had caus'd a palpitation.
XL. Perhaps—but no the truth must be confest;'.
No woman had dominion o'er his soul; His eye had wander'd o’er earth's loveliest,
And still his heart was free from their control : Yet did he madly love, and o'er his rest
Dreams of such bright and passionate beauty stole,
And fairy-land around his boyhood shone ;
With fervent joy, but near bis Father's throne
How sigh for some belov'd and loving one,
Through lonely dell, and unfrequented wood;
And in his more imaginative mood
A lot he would have chosen if he could ;
(I don't know how he got romances) there; He culld from many a heroine's countenance
The traits he thought most exquisitely fair; · From one he stole her eyes' o'erwhelming glance,
And from another clipp'd her auburn hair : From this her lips, from that her blushes stole, And from five hundred form’d one lovely whole
With which this dainty creature must abound;
And chose the brightest models that he found; Which blending with his dreamings, in a fit
Of joy he swore that all the world around No living beauty could be found so bright As that which swam in his Quixottic sight.
XLV. 'Twas ever with him, this imagin'd form,
And as the wayward fancy stronger grew ;
So palpably apparent to his view,
Of such wild passion on his bosom blew,
It made him happy, if it made him mad;
To execute the orders of his Dad.
Wrapt it this vision, he was seldom sad.
(Though 'twas a cruel measure, I must say,
To lock him up in that outrageous way ;) And, fearing sorely that his wits were gone,
He bled and dosed him every other day. 'Twas all in vain,-- nơ physic could remove His wild, ideal, solitary love.
Both Monarchs were confoundedly afraid,
The marriage would be grievously délay'd.
They might perhaps contrive to be obey'd."
I've pros'd of courtship, wedlock, love, and fighting, Till I've arriv'd at Stanza forty-nine,
And grown half weary of the stuff I'm writing;
Ne'er thought, one single moment, of inditing
A little while-a few short weeks--and thou
Shalt go forth gaily in thy bridal dress; Serene, yet bearing on thy modest brow
The timid blush of virgin bashfulness. And thou shalt pledge the irrevocable yow,
And utter (if thou canst) the fatal « Yes ;"
Long might with gentle yictorjes have shone;
The better triumph of securing one.
A husband's smile; and since we can't but own
Thy delicate form, thine ever-smiling eye,
Thy voice so rich in sweetest melody ;
From my world-weary rovings, I shall sigh
Of the proceedings of your wedding-day ;
Telling how bright your looks, your dress how gay; And then I'll praise your milliners and drapers,
Beginning somewhat in the following way:“ Married last week, at - - in this Shire, Miss H. Montgomery to John Stumps, Esquire."
For half a stanza on so grave a theme;
When she's determin’d to rebel; I deem,
And I shall sadly sink in your esteem
What should have been declar'd some stanzas backThat 'twas not my original intention
To follow so irregular a track ;
And punishment, for having been so slack
(If you get through this Canto) in my next To check the rovings of my Phantasy, .
And stick a little closer to my text. “ I've wander'd from my theme, yet scarce know why,"
As sings a friend of mine,-for I'm perplext