XXXIII.

But oh! the thousand joys of versifying!

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; And then one fancies all the ladies cryingReviewers make some rhymesters rather sore; I, for my own part, am a careless dog, And love to hear mine criticized-incog.

XXXIV.

But poor Godiva-in her tears she lay,

'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;
So much so, that to-morrow you may tell
Fair Coventry, it's free from all taxation,
If but these terms your approbation meet-
That you ride naked through the public street."

XXXVI.

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 unparallel'd 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.

XXXVII.

Shame on the heartless churl !-could he repose

On that so lovely bosom, which, he knew, For him, albeit the author of its woes,

Throbb'd with affection, warm, and chaste, and true? And could he thus its holy charms expose

Unveil'd and blushing to the public view?
Ay, bid slaves gaze on beauties, which alone
(Though Kings had sigh'd for) he might call his own!
XXXVIII.

And yet I can't but own that modern spouses
In his opinions seem to acquiesce;
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.

XXXIX.

I must say I enjoy it 'tis 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, Till scarce a secret for the bride remains ; While round her waist each wanton finger strays, And counts the whalebones in her panting stays.

XL.

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; I here protest I never will agree

In such reproaches-till I'm blind and lame.

Let maids of fifty prate of immorality,
I'm for the sexes' rational equality.*

XLI.

These are new doctrines: in Godiva's age
Husbands alone were privileged to kiss ;
I said before, Reform was not the rage,
So that such nonsense was not then amiss;
And, though I've ransack'd many an ancient page,
I find but one case similar to this,—
That of Candaules-handed down to us
By Barry Cornwall, and Herodotus.

XLII.

Oh! matrimonial love, which I so long
Have fondly painted to my fancy's eye,
In vain would I embody now in song

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 my heart's recess
I long have worshipp'd, but can ne'er express.

XLIII.

And thou, fair image, whatsoe'er thou art,
The lov'd creation of my boyish brain,
The destin'd partner of my cares and heart,

To share my pleasures, and to soothe my pain;

Still of my dearest visions be a part,

In many a midnight dream appear again ; Still let me clasp thee to my glowing breast, Enjoy thy converse, and in sleep be blest.

XLIV.

And if not all a Phantom of my thought,

And thou indeed hast being, may thy young

Lest these three stanzas startle folks Platonic-all
My eulogies on Waltzing are ironical.

G. M.

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.

XLV.

I shall be quite enraptured if you sing,
So but your taste is pure as was the Attics';
I only beg you'll take care not to fling
Your time away in learning Mathematics;
Nor to my arms a heavy portion bring

Of Chemistry-and Greek-and Hydrostatics;
You may nurse pinks and tulips, if you've got any,
But be no florist, love,-nor deal in Botany,

XLVI.

I mention this, because I know some ladies
Whose conversation is almost a bore;
But I should laud them, as the Poet's trade is
So wont pursue this topic any more.
Return we to our tale, which, I'm afraid is
Too long in telling-but it's nearly o'er:
Godiva turn'd at last, with looks imploring,
And found her husband (like my reader) snoring.
XLVII.

Too well she knew to wake him would be vain;
She thought 'twas best to let him slumber on,
Or else his humour might relapse again,

And all she had effected be undone.

She lay, and commun'd with her heart and brain,—

Her thoughts I know not, but when morning shone,

She told her husband, with a steadfast eye,

She had revolv'd the matter-and would try.

* This line contains a violent confusion of metaphors. For "path" I would read

"plate."

"May nought

That tastes of sorrow in thy plate be flung."
W. ROWLEY.

XLVIII.

Her speech on this occasion I'd recorded

In my foul copy, and we all agreed * That it was most astonishingly worded,

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,

And had, at twelve years old, more general knowledge
Than boys of fifteen gain at Eton College.

L.

She turn'd and left his Lordship sore perplex'd,
He almost question'd if he was awake,

And knew not whether to feel pleas'd or vex'd;
Still less, what step it would be right to take.
He "wonder'd what the Devil she'd do next
Who could so bold a resolution make;"
And felt a sort of shame that he'd consented,
And, for the first time in his life, repented.
LI.

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,
He could'nt help it-he was not to blame!
So that day, after breakfast, off he pack'd
A Trumpeter (I quite forget his name)
To tell the people, in the market-place, *
His wife's intention-and his own disgrace.

*We, the "King of Clubs."-R. H.