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 LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
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ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 x 03 
 
 LETTER IN RHYME. 
 
 J'ai vu les moeurs de mon terns, et j'ai publie cette 
 lettre. Rousseau. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE-STREET. 
 
 1820. 
 
LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY THOMAS DAVISON, WHITEFRIARS. 
 
Introduction— 'Hyde- Park The Ride The 
 
 Promenade >Almack's The Opera New- 
 market News of the Day Sketch of a Small- 
 talker The Park on Sundays A Shower 
 
 Kensington- Gardens Sparring The Serpen- 
 
 tine—in winter— in summer — - A Submissive hover 
 
 The Mysteries of Dress— Importance of the 
 
 Cravat An Apostate Beau A modern Dinner 
 
 The Ball-room at Almacfcs Waltzing 
 
 Quadrilling Rules and Regulations A Ball 
 
 of other Times * A Guide to Matrimony— Cau- 
 tions to younger Brothers The French Play 
 
 Paris The Palais - Royal Spectacles 
 
 Scene on the Boulevards — time, evening The 
 
 Tuilleries-Gardem Parisian Belles A Pro- 
 test against Cachemires Maisons de Jeu 
 
 Londo n Its Independence, Variety, Equality 
 
 Its Display of female Beauty End of the 
 
 London Season Signs and Prodigies forerunning 
 
 it ' A hot Day in August A Water-party 
 
 A Steam-boat on the Thames Brighton 
 
 Autumn and fVinter in the Country Shoot- 
 ing Hunting The House of Commons 
 
 Debts and Doubts of a Man of Fashion— —Thoughts 
 on Marriage and the Press ■ Conclusion. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Come, tell me, Julia, — come, confess 
 A secret which, perhaps, I guess ; 
 Why have you thus poor Charles undone ? l 
 Is it from avarice, or for fun ? 
 Or do you play these pranks to prove 
 What arrant dupes are men in love ? 
 For never handsome gipsy drew in 
 A man so soon to shame and ruin ; 
 Nor managed, between gall and honey, 
 Greedy, yet prodigal of money, 
 
 b 2 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 To wear the flesh at such a rate 
 From the bare bones of his estate. — 
 Speak — answer me — you must, and shall. 
 
 " Well then, — ' 'tis my vocation, Hal)' 
 u And wisely used is every minute 
 " Of youth and health in labouring in it. 
 " How have I tittered, when that fellow 
 " Iago tells the Moor Othello, 
 " With face so plausible, that cash, 
 €€ The idol of the world, is trash ; 
 " And swears he has no kindred feeling 
 " With those who think it worth the stealing. 
 " The rogue, intending to blindfold him, 
 " Cared not a straw what lies he told him, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 " But this I count, among the many, 
 
 " By far the greatest lie of any. 
 
 " Enough to squander or to save 
 
 " Of trash like this is all / crave. 
 
 " My maxim 's in a word expressed — 
 
 "Young birds should feather well their nest -, 
 
 " And so, do I maintain, should lasses, 
 
 " Ere their warm spring and summer passes, 
 
 " While precious in your sex's eye 
 
 " Is early bloom and novelty. 
 
 *' Soon Autumn on our charms encroaches, 
 
 " Soon Winter's icy hand approaches y 
 
 " Then unregarded we complain, 
 
 " And plead to man's cold heart in vain ! 
 
 " Such the too melancholy fact is, 
 
 " And such my principles and practice." 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Thus would you answer, were you present, 
 Methinks, with looks half cross, half pleasant. 
 Well, stoutly have you battled for it \ I 
 Cannot but yield, to such authority, 
 That women, in their own defence, 
 Plunder with perfect innocence. 
 But, Julia, though I'm loth to scold 
 A frail one for her love of gold, 
 I must, howe'er your features lour, 
 Make war upon her love of power, 
 A rage more mischievous and worse : — 
 Sure 'tis enough to drain his purse. 
 Why will you thus monopolize 
 His words and thoughts, his ears and eyes ? 
 Why rob him of a dearer treasure 
 In every moment of his leisure ?* 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 No, never have I known a change 
 In man so sudden, and so strange ; 
 A revolution so entire 
 In every habit and desire. 
 Time was, he minded not a feather 2 
 If it was bright or cloudy weather, 
 Nor what Moore's Almanack foretold 
 Of wind or rain, or heat or cold ; 
 But join'd his cronies in the Park, 
 " Fellows of likelihood and mark," 
 In trot or canter, on the backs 
 Of ponies, hunters, chargers, hacks, 
 Proud to display their riders* graces 
 Through all imaginable paces, 
 From walks and ambles up to races ; 
 
 \ 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Or on a dressed Arabian barb 3 
 
 Alone, in military garb, 
 
 With shoulders duly braced, and back'd head, 
 
 And regimental air, contracted 
 
 On service in his last campaign, 
 
 From overrunning France and Spain, 
 
 Guided, with skilful, gentle force, 
 
 Each motion of his managed horse, 
 
 By dint of leather and of steel, 
 
 His bridle up, or down his heel -, 
 
 Now dashing on, now lounging slow, 
 
 Through the thronged ride, to Rotten Row ; 
 
 Where ancient gentlemen come forth, 
 
 Screened from the breezes of the north, 
 
 To bask them in the province won 
 
 From Winter by the southern sun > 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 When birds on leafless branches sing, 
 And the last days of April bring 
 A lame apology from Spring. 
 There, on their easy saddles, pumping 
 Fresh air into their lungs by bumping, 
 Under the lee of wood and wall 
 They nod and totter to their fall 5 
 Their only business to contrive 
 The ways and means to keep alive, 
 And, if permitted by the fates, 
 Encumber long their sons' estates 5 
 Which, in compassion to the Jews, 
 The fates aforesaid oft refuse. 
 
 But when from violated May 
 Winter's rude form is chased away, 
 
 
10 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 When skies more blue and bright appear, 
 And sunshine marks the ripened year, 
 Charles in his Tilbury would roll 
 About j or, in the evening, stroll 
 Where all the town, arrayed en masse, 
 Disputes each inch of withered grass, 
 As if some spell their steps had bound 
 Fast to that single spot of ground : 
 Where countless wheels together dash, 
 Swift whirling — and amidst the crash, 
 Horse jammed with foot, in gay confusion, 
 Just manage to escape contusion, 
 Wedging their shoulders into carriages, 
 To make reports of balls and marriages 5 
 Of passports just obtained, or missed 
 For Almack's on each ladys list*, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 11 
 
 What names of all the young and fair, 
 
 High-born and rich, are blazoned there ; 
 
 Who are returned as sick, and who dead, 
 
 Among the luckless girls excluded. 
 
 For oft I've marked how one rejection 
 
 Has spoiled a blooming nymph's complexion. 
 
 A second has been known to leave her 
 
 In strong convulsions or a fever. 
 
 I wave the stories I have heard 
 
 Of what has happened from a third. 
 
 Nor marvel that a prize which, won, 
 
 Is capital, and yields to none 
 
 In this world's lottery — when lost, 
 
 Not health alone, but life should cost. 
 
 All on that magic list depends ; 
 
 Fame, fortune, fashion, lovers, friends : 
 
12 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 'Tis that which gratifies or vexes 
 
 All ranks, all ages, and both sexes. 
 
 If once to Almack's you belong, 
 
 Like monarchs, you can do no wrong ; 
 
 But banished thence on Wednesday night, 
 
 By Jove, you can do nothing right. 
 
 There, baffled Cupid points his darts 
 With surer aim, at jaded hearts, 
 And Hymen, lurking in the porch, 
 But half conceals his lighted torch. 
 Hence the petitions and addresses 
 So humble to the Patronesses ; 
 The messages and notes, by dozens, 
 From their Welch aunts and twentieth cousins, 
 Who hope to get their daughters in 
 By proving they axe founder $ kin. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 13 
 
 Hence the smart miniatures enclosed 4 
 Of unknown candidates proposed ; 
 Hence is the fair divan at Willis's 
 Beset with Corydons and Phillises, 
 Trying, with perseverance steady, 
 First one, and then another lady, 
 Who oft, 'tis rumour'd, don't agree, 
 But clash like law and equity ; 
 Some for the rules in all their vigour, 
 Others to mitigate their rigour. 
 
 How shall the Muse, with colours faint 
 And pencil blunt, aspire to paint 
 Such high- raised hopes, such chilling fears, 
 Entreaties, threatenings, smiles, and tears ! 
 
14 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 The vainest beauty will renounce 
 
 Her last imported blonde or flounce $ 
 
 The gamester leave a raw beginner, 
 
 The diner-out forego his dinner ; 
 
 The stern reformer change his notions, 
 
 And wave his notices of motions 5 
 
 The bold become an abject croucher, 
 
 And the grave — giggle for a voucher-, 
 
 Too happy those who fail to nick it, 
 
 In stumbling on a single ticket. 
 
 See, all bow down — maids, widows, wivee.— 
 
 As sentenced culprits beg their lives, 
 
 As lovers court their fair ones' graces, 
 
 As politicians sue for places ; 
 
 So these, by sanguine hopes amused, 
 
 Solicit, — and are so refused. 
 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 15 
 
 In yonder group another chatters 
 Perhaps of less important matters : 
 If there's to-day as great a show 
 Of beauty as a week ago ? 
 Whose curricle is that ? and whether 
 Those iron Greys step out together ? — 
 If W****s fancies he a fox is 
 In charging thus for opera-boxes, 
 Little suspecting (thoughtless calf) 
 How oft the ivhole is less than half; 
 (Which Van will learn when he relaxes 
 Some dozen of his darling taxes :) 
 If, in compassion to a building 5 
 Degraded by such paint and gilding, 
 By frescos such as, on the walls 
 Of his dark cell, the maniac scrawls, 
 
10 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 He means next year to set about 
 
 Matching its inside with its out. 
 
 To rival, though th* attempt be rash 3 
 
 The Colonnades of Mr. N**h, 
 
 And all the management and skill 
 
 Displayed in coaxing them down hill. 
 
 To mend a thousand shabbinesses 
 
 In decorations, scenes, and dresses $ 
 
 Unseemly savings, sorry sights, 
 
 Cracked chandeliers, and mutton -lights. 
 
 In corridors, where poisonous gasses 
 
 Ooze from their tubes, unscreened by glasses, 
 
 Such as who near a market stops 
 
 Sees flaring in the butchers' shops. 
 
 If his law funds begin to fail, or 
 
 If one day, " Waters versus Taylor" — 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 17 
 
 Another, " Taylor versus Waters/' 
 
 Must still amuse our wives and daughters : 
 
 Whether, renouncing litigation 
 
 For capering and modulation \ 
 
 Close courts for crowded opera-doors, 
 
 Motions for steps, and briefs for scores ; 
 
 He'll, for our money, yield us fruits 
 
 More to our taste than Chancery suits $ 
 
 Make us no more, the season through, sick 
 
 By harping on the self-same music, 
 
 Nor suffer thus to melt away 
 
 Half his enfeebled orchestra ; 
 
 But ransack Italy, to bribe 
 
 His fair seceders to subscribe, 
 
 And teach, by fresh recruits from France, 
 
 The old idea how to dance. 
 
 c 
 
18 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Then come a host of eager questions, 
 Smart answers, guesses, and suggestions.- 
 If the French play goes on, that trade 
 So lucrative to Mr. Slade, 
 So thriving as to put old Drury 
 And Covent Garden in a fury : 
 Of the undoers and undone 
 By sums at Brooks's lost or won, 
 Where Play, unfathomably deep, 
 From night till morning murders sleep ; 
 Where many a party-coloured hoard 
 Lies heaped along the battered board, 
 While the green rouleau and black pony 
 In counters, do the work of money \ 
 And acres take their leave and fly 
 Away on wings of ivory. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 19 
 
 Next you have news by sea and land, all 
 Seasoned, if possible, with scandal ; 
 Broad hint and inference censorious, 
 Making things doubtful quite notorious ; 
 Fair characters, by tales just hatched 
 And vouched for, in a trice despatched, 
 Here bare-faced lies, there playful sallies, 
 These aimed in sport, and those in malice, 
 On absent folks, amidst a throng 
 Of Gossips always in the wrong : 
 So, as 'tis clear no earthly face is 
 At the same moment in tivo places, 
 But, while in one, by fate's behest, 
 Must be away from all the rest, 
 Think how on every side are hurled 
 Detraction's darts throughout the world ! — 
 
 c2 
 
20 ADVI€E TO JULIA. 
 
 Well may her feeblest victims be 
 Armed with enough philosophy, 
 Calmly the common ill to bear, 
 Which thus with all Mankind they share. 
 
 Then follow observations critical, 
 Or jokes on men and things political ; 
 Much of the Regent and his Fetes, 
 Much of divisions and debates, 
 Of motions, speeches, names misquoted 
 In the last list of those who voted. 
 Thence to Newmarket and the races 
 Shifting, they tell of lengthened faces, 
 When for their debts Black Monday calls 
 Folks to account at Tattersall's ; 
 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 21 
 
 Of all the baffled hedger feels 
 When legs are taking to their heels; 
 How suddenly aghast he looks, 
 When his, the paragon of books, 
 That book whose value far outshone 
 Lord Spencer's famed Decameron, 
 Becomes, hey, presto ! quick as thought, 
 Not worth the fraction of a groat ! 
 
 Such is the tattle of our Beaus. 
 These simple elements compose 
 Where'er you drive, or ride, or walk, 
 The Macedoine of London talk. 
 What if the mixture strange appear 
 To Squires ? should they affect to sneer, 
 
22 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Or gravely vote, in spite to us, 
 What thus we deal in — frivolous ? 
 Let them in earnest, or in fun, try 
 If they can match it in the country ; 
 If of their fabric any particle 
 Is equal to our town -made article ; 
 If their choice topics are as charming, 
 Their justice-ing> or hounds, or farming, 
 At which, when, jaded by the labour 
 Of listening, tenant nods, and neighbour, 
 The very chaplain shakes his head, 
 And steals, unbeneficed, to bed. 
 
 How much at home was Charles in all 
 The talk aforesaid — nicknamed small ! 
 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 23 
 
 Seldom embarrassed, never slow, 
 His maxim always " touch and go $ M 
 From grave to gay he ran with ease, 
 Secure alike in both to please. 
 Chanced he to falter ? A grimace 
 Was ready in the proper place 5 
 Or a chased snuff-box, with its gems 
 And gold, to mask his has and hems, 
 Was offered round, and duly rapped, 
 Till a fresh topic could be tapped. 
 What if his envious rivals swore 
 Twas jargon all, and he a bore ? 
 The surly sentence was outvoted, 
 His jokes retailed, his jargon quoted ; 
 And while he sneered or quizzed or flirted, 
 The world, half angry, was diverted. 
 
24 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Now is the clatter of his mill, 
 With all its rush of waters, still $ 
 His chimes are motionless become, 
 His ear-subduing larum dumb. 
 Yes, Julia, your resistless battery 
 Has silenced jokes, and sneers, and flattery ; 
 Now seldom seen, more seldom heard, 
 He shrugs — but utters scarce a word, 
 And bears about, like muzzled hound, 
 " A tongue chained up without a sound !" 
 
 * 
 
 Once would he loiter, ere 'twas dark, 
 'Mongst Nymphs and Satyrs in the Park : 
 The Park ! that magnet of the town, 
 That idol to which all bow down. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 25 
 
 See how the universal throng, 
 
 Borne in one swelling tide along, 
 
 Crowds to its turf-clad altars, there 
 
 To beg the blessing of fresh air ! 
 
 Throughout the week, but most on one day 
 
 i 
 
 Enjoyed beyond aU others — Sunday, 
 With many a mutual punch and shove, 
 To Hyde Park Corner on they move. 
 Like bees, that, when the weather 's warm, 
 Grow weary of their hives and swarm, 
 All active on that day of rest, 
 Pressing on every side, and pressed 
 In " Phoebus eye" from east to west, * 
 
 * from the rise to set, 
 
 Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night 
 Sleeps in Elysium. Shaksp. 
 
26 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 With a fair chance, while thus they busy 'em, 
 To " sleep" that evening " in Elysium." 
 
 Perchance, a truant from his desk, 
 Some lover of the picturesque, 
 Whose soul is far above his shop, 
 Hints to his charmer where to stop ; 
 And the proud landscape, from the hill, eye 
 Which crowns thy terrace — Piccadilly ! 
 Whispering, " My dear, while others hurry, 
 " Let us look over into Surry." 
 There, as the summer-sun declines, 
 Yet still in full- orbed beauty shines, 
 As, all on fire beneath his beams, 
 The fret-work of the Abbey gleams 5 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 9,7 
 
 While on its towers a golden flood 
 Is poured, above the tufted wood, 
 His charmer (kindred spirits, see 
 The blest effects of sympathy !) 
 Is busied in a tasteful trial 
 To spell the hour upon the dial ! 
 
 Mark how the mighty snow-ball gathers ! 
 Lads, lasses, mothers, children, fathers, 
 All equal here, as if the pavement 
 To level them were like the grave meant, 
 As if one will informed the whole, 
 And urged them to a common goal. 
 See, in the living mass confounded, 
 All shapes, all sizes, slim, and rounded -, 
 
28 ADVICE TO JULIA, 
 
 Every variety of features 
 
 That e'er distinguished human creatures ! 
 
 Nor less their habits disagree : 
 
 Some have, at sunset, risen from tea ; 
 
 Some linger on till Dusk at nine 
 
 Bids them retire to dress and dine. 
 
 The same pursuits together jumble 
 
 The rich and poor, the proud and humble. 
 
 Th' enfranchised tradesman, if he stirs, 
 
 Here, jostles half his customers. 
 
 Here, in a rage, the Bond-street spark 
 
 Is bearded by his father's clerk ; 
 
 While yon proud dame (O sad event!) is 
 
 Out-elbowed by her own apprentice. 
 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 29 
 
 What goads them on ? — The influence 
 Of Nature and of Common sense. 
 Thus they shake off the weekly yoke 
 Of business and its weekly smoke, 
 With verdure thus refresh their eyes, 
 And purchase health by exercise $ 
 Giving their gasping lungs fair play, 
 And their cramped limbs a holiday : 
 And since, like others less polite, 
 Fine folks have lungs, and limbs, and sight, 
 All destined to the same employment, 
 All eager for the same enjoyment -, 
 Here Sense and Nature have it hollow, 
 And Fashion is constrained to follow, 
 To join the vulgar happy crew, 
 And fairly do as others do. 
 
30 ADVICE TO JULIA, 
 
 Of this thy progeny be proud, 
 O England ! though a motley crowd. 
 Can Europe or the world produce, 
 Alike for ornament or use, 
 Such models of stout active trim men, 
 Or samples of such lovely women ? 
 Such specimens of order, dress, 
 Health, comfort, inbred cleanliness, 
 As here displayed, the summer-sun 
 Lingering seems proud to shine upon ? 
 
 But, O ! the treachery of our weather, 
 When Sunday folks are met together ! 
 Its tempting brightness scarce matured, 
 How suddenly the day's obscured ! 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 31 
 
 Bless me, how dark ! — Thou threatening cloud, 
 
 Pity the un-umbrelldd crowd. 
 
 The cloud rolls onward with the breeze — 
 
 First, pattering on the distant trees 
 
 The rain drops fall — then quicker, denser, 
 
 On many a Parasol and Spencer 5 
 
 Soon drenching, with no mercy on it, 
 
 The straw and silk of many a bonnet. 
 
 Think on their hapless owners fretting, 
 
 While feathers, crape, and gauze are wetting ! 
 
 The fruits of all their weekly toil 
 
 Given to the elements for spoil ! 
 
 Think of the pang to well-dressed girls, 
 
 When, pinched in vain, their hair uncurls ! 
 
 When ringlets from each lovely pate 
 
 Hang mathematically straight ! 
 
32 ADVICE TO JULJA. 
 
 As off, on every side, they scour, 
 
 Still beats the persecuting shower, 
 
 Till, on the thirsty gravel smoking, 
 
 It fairly earns the name of soaking. 
 
 Fiercer and fiercer blows the gust, 
 
 Burthened at once with rain and dust r 
 
 Breathless they scud, some helter skelter 
 
 To carriages, and some for shelter -> 
 
 Lisping to coachmen drunk or dumb 
 
 In numbers — while no numbers come. 
 
 Nor sheds are near, nor open shops 
 
 Protect them from the " big round drops :"' 
 
 Their sarsenets spoiled, their stockings splashed, 
 
 Their muslins prematurely washed -, 
 
 Some in their clinging clothes so lank, 
 
 Others so bouncing, all so blank, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 33 
 
 Enraged, resigned, in tears or frowning, 
 Look as if just escaped from drowning 5 
 While anxious thoughts pursue them home, 
 Whence their next Sunday's dress must come. 
 
 Poor Charles ! No creature sees him, late, 
 Twixt Stanhope-street and Apsley-gate. 
 In his loved walks he wanders not, 
 Nor lounges in that darling spot 
 (Ogling himself into the graces 
 Of young adventurers with new faces), 
 Where crowds, by tyrant-custom yoked, 
 Meet, through the summer, to be choked, 
 Thinking dust pleasanter, no doubt, 
 With fashion — than fresh air, ivithout; 
 
 D 
 
34 ADVICE TO JULIA, 
 
 And, keeping, by a rural plan, 
 As near the chimneys as they can, 
 Are shocked at vulgar folks, who run 
 To thy fair gardens, Kensington, 
 To tread on verdure, and inhale 
 The freshness of the western gale ; 
 Who hasten to the calm retreats 
 Of those alcoved and formal seats, 
 Where vows ill-spelt, in uncouth rhymes, 
 Betray the loves of former times, 
 With dates exact of Beauties reckoned 
 So killing — under George the Second ; 
 Where Cockneys, duly taught that fame, 
 Howe'er achieved, is but a name, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 35 
 
 Have proved they had it in their blood, 
 By tampering with th' unconscious wood, 
 To be immortal — if they could, 
 
 Heedless, though hundreds by them flit, 
 Mark ! where in groups prim parties sit 
 On the same bench, ('tis doubtful whether 
 Huddled by chance, or choice together ;) 
 Nor sign of pleasure seen, nor word 
 Of cheerful sound among them heard, 
 As if all virtue lay in gravity, 
 And smiles were symptoms of depravity. 
 Twere hard, methinks, their fate to brook, 
 Were they not happier than they look ; 
 While opening spring with all its flowers, 
 In vain leads on the laughing hours $ 
 
 d 2 
 
36 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 On their dull looks and blunted sense 
 Wasting its choicest influence $ 
 While as, at length aroused, they travel 
 A snail's pace on the glittering gravel, 
 Bursts the full chestnut on their sight, 
 In spiral blossoms, silver-bright ; 
 Lilacs their purple cones unfold, 
 And rich laburnums gleam in gold. 
 
 Julia, I own, you may command some 
 Attention — you are young and handsome, 
 Are fond, of course — perhaps, are true — 
 As yet, that secret rests with you. 
 Still be advised, and, lest you lose it, 
 Enjoy your influence — don't abuse it. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 37 
 
 Why thus encroaching ? wherefore want 
 To fetter your enslaved gallant \ 
 As an Egyptian queen, we're told, 
 Served a great conqueror of old, 
 Whom from his height of fame she hurld, 
 And wheedled — to resign a world ? 
 For thee, thus weaned from all his habits, 
 (You women make us tame as rabbits) : 
 Charles now no longer bathes nor swims, 
 To cool his blood and brace his limbs. 
 No more with pliant arm he stems 
 The tide or current of the Thames, 
 Though, till his talent you derided, 
 How deep he dived, how glibly glided ! 
 
38 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 I doubt if he has pluck remaining 
 To venture on a six weeks training, 
 That first of pugilistic blisses, 
 Since he has found your smiles and kisses 
 (So strange his taste) a greater treat 
 Than rubbing, racing, or raw meat. 
 And yet, one fonder of the Fancy 
 Than Charles, of old, did ever man see ? 
 Skilled in defence, in onset skilled, 
 All wondered as he Jibbed and milted, 
 Laying his adversary low 
 In no time, by a favourite blow. 
 
 But hold. — Such prowess to describe 
 Asks all the jargon of the tribe 5 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 39 
 
 And though enough to serve my turn 
 
 From " Boxiana" I might learn, 
 
 Or borrow from an ampler store 
 
 In the bright page of Thomas Moore, 
 
 Too rich to grudge a friend a bit 
 
 Either of poetry or wit, 
 
 Yet ladies of a gentle taste 
 
 Would find such learning, here, misplaced. 
 
 Past are those glories ! now, it ruffles 
 His temper but to hear of muffles : 
 Him at the Fives Court, or at Moulsey, 
 Never henceforward will a soul see. 
 Now, he's an humble tame adorer, 
 Sneers at a facer or a floorer, 
 
40 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Of all he learned so well of Crib, 
 Remembering only how to fib. 
 
 Say is the man to blame, or you 6 
 That thus he 's never black and blue ? 
 Who can persist to be a boxer 
 When she he dotes on vows it shocks her, 
 Or who, by beauty favoured, chooses 
 But in her cause, to hazard bruises ? 
 He plays no Tennis, though a strong one ; 
 He draws no bow, — except a long one — 
 That noble art which you have taught him, 7 
 And to such rare perfection brought him, 
 That in its practice he excels 
 All rivals, whether Beaus or Belles. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 41 
 
 The Serpentine, that Prince of Rivers, 
 (But name it, how the recreant shivers ! ) 
 Tempts him no more to roam at large in 
 The groups that hasten to its margin, 
 In winter, when the slanting sun 
 Just skirts th' horizon, and is gone $ 
 When from his disk a short-lived glare 
 Is wasted on the clear cold air 3 
 When the snow sparkles, on the sight 
 Flashing intolerable white, 
 And, swept by hurried feet, the ground 
 Returns a crisp and crushing sound. 
 
 There, once, well strapped from point to heel, " 
 Glided his foot on glittering steel, 
 Like a light vessel on her keel ; 
 
42 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 And, rapid as the viewless wind, 
 
 Left all its rivals far behind. 
 
 Such outside edges, threes, and eights, 
 
 Were never yet achieved by skaits \ 
 
 While, in his attitudes and figure, 
 
 Such ease was blended with such vigour, 
 
 That hundreds, envious of his fame, 
 
 Hastened to execute the same : 
 
 But, in the trial, for their pains. 
 
 Too happy to escape with sprains, 
 
 Tumbled, to edify the town, 
 
 On every side, like ninepins, down. 
 
 Still would he wheel and circle, scorning 
 The « mighty crack's" prophetic warning, 8 
 Which, ere the brittle fetters break 
 That bind a river, pond, or lake, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 43 
 
 Sounds a retreat, while yet in time. 
 For lo ! as, in a Pantomime, 
 Obedient to the waving wand, 
 Emblem of magical command, 
 Trap-doors, for ghosts to disappear, 
 Are opened, as its end draws near 5 
 So when the Necromancer, Thaw, 
 Gives to his subject- streams the law, 
 Woe to the loiterers ! In a trice 
 Splits, far and wide, the treacherous ice, 
 Plunging (if only to the chin 
 How lucky !) many a victim in. 
 
 There, while the fur-clad nymphs admired him, 
 And with their frozen beauties fired him, 
 
44 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Not less he prized their eyes' soft blue, 
 Because their lips were azure too 3 
 Though from their cheeks the truant roses 
 Strayed, frost-directed, to their noses j 
 And women's tempers oft are ruffled 
 By skins so chapped, and hues so shuffled. 
 For soon, he knew, those wandering graces 
 Would settle in their proper places -, 
 That the blood mantles, and the eyes 
 Brighten, by air and exercise 3 
 That every charm which frost withdraws 
 Returns, with interest, when it thaws. 
 
 Besides, when features grow less pleasing, 
 Thus cooled below the point of freezing, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 45 
 
 Then on fair shapes, however wadded, 
 
 Love takes his stand, and proves his Godhead, 
 
 Sending, through folds on folds, his dart 
 
 Unblunted to the destined heart : 
 
 So magnets, moved beneath, enable 
 
 Needles to caper on a table ; 
 
 So, through conductors, in the dark 
 
 You see conveyed th' electric spark. 
 
 What if Love's fires, midst frost and snow, 
 
 But metaphorically glow 
 
 With unsubstantial heat ? — You know it *s 
 
 Quite fierce enough to warm the poets. 
 
 More of my River. — Don't refuse 
 Your aid a little longer, Muse. 
 
46 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Since you have been so kind a hinter 
 Of what adorns it in the winter, 
 Don't, on a sudden, now grow dumber, 
 But fairly help me through the summer. 
 Well may the coyest of the Nine 
 Be proud to sing the Serpentine $ 
 For never breeze has swept, nor beam 
 Shed light upon a luckier stream. 
 A brook that, from a scanty source 
 Hard by, just struggles in its course, 
 Scarce has it reached, slow trickling thence, 
 The bounds of royal influence, 
 When (mark the favour and protection 
 That flows from interest and connexion !) 
 'Tis bidden a nobler form to take, 
 To spread and widen to a lake, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA, 47 
 
 And with a strange meandering name, 
 Like Cromwell — to be dammed to fame.* 
 
 A strain, fair Lake, of loftier mood 
 Than mine, should celebrate thy flood ; 
 A tongue more eloquent should tell 
 The beauties that around thee dwell. 
 Here frown, 'tis true, no hills gigantic 
 Of towering height, and shapes romantic - 7 
 Here are no torrents, caves, nor rocks, 
 Nor sweeping blasts, nor thunder- shocks > 
 And, though their absence is a pity, 
 I must confess it, — no banditti : 
 
 * Like Cromwell, damned to everlasting fame. 
 
 Pope. 
 
48 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 No echoes wake, within thy bounds, 
 
 From deep-toned horn, or deep-mouthed hounds, 
 
 As, hotly chased from crag to crag, 
 
 Bursts in full speed the panting stag - y 
 
 Nor, when unruffled by a storm, 
 
 Does thy clear wave reflect the form 
 
 Of some rude castle, seat sublime 
 
 Of war, and violence, and crime. 
 
 Nor can I summon to my verse 
 
 A single sounding rhyme in Erse, 
 
 Nor paint, alas ! as Scott has done, 
 
 The glories of the setting sun, 
 
 When monks are chanting choral hymns on 
 
 A lake on fire with gold and crimson 5 
 
 While their boat slumbers in the shade 
 
 By some unwieldy mountain made, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 49 
 
 As o'er it comes the fragrant breath 
 
 Of Evening from the purple heath. 
 
 And though our Lake, when sultry day dies, 
 
 Can boast — not one, but many Ladies, 
 
 Nay, to increase the wonder more, 
 
 Bucks on tivo legs, as well as four, 
 
 No maiden here, but hold, I falter, 
 
 Nor dare pursue the steps of Walter, 
 When deep he dips the crystal surge in 
 The lovely form of some coy virgin, 
 And her bathed beauties, by and by, lands — 
 In short— Hyde-Park is not the Highlands. 
 
 But, though ungraced with one of these, 
 Still we have lawns, and paths, and trees. 
 
 E 
 
50 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Why should our landscape blush for shame ? 
 'Tis fresh and gay, if flat and tame. 
 None view it awe -struck or surprised $ 
 But still, 'tis smart and civilized. 
 Here are the Royal Gardens seen, 
 Waving their woods of tufted green 
 Above the Powder- Magazine : 
 Beyond it, the sub-ranger's villa, 
 Where, once,, lay anchored the flotilla 
 To fill us all with warlike rage meant, 
 In peace-time, by a mock engagement. 
 Next come, to furnish due variety, 
 The sheds of the Humane Society, 
 In case of thaws, or inebriety 5 
 And, winding among these, a drive 
 With gigs and curricles alive. 
 
 I 
 S 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 5i 
 
 Thence (amidst planes and weeping willows) 
 
 Swept by the zephyr, tiny billows 
 
 Come rippling to the smooth cascade, 
 
 So lately founded by the aid 
 
 Of pick-axe, trowel, rule, and spade ; 
 Near which (his mother left the lurch in) 
 Perchance some lounging truant urchin 
 For halfpence with his play-mate wrangles, 
 Or with a pin for minnows angles ; 
 Or coaxes from her callow brood 
 The dingy matron-swan, for food, 
 And eyes her ruffled plumes, and springs 
 Aside, in terror of her wings. 
 
 These charms, and more than these, are thine, 
 Straight though thou art, O Serpentine ! 
 
 e 2 
 
52 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 And, when the quivering sun-beams dance 
 And sparkle on thy smooth expanse ; 
 When to thy stream the deer confides 
 His branching horns and dappled sides ; 
 And cattle on thy shelving brink 
 Snuff the sweet air, or stoop to drink 
 Where trees, through all their generations, 
 From withered stumps to new plantations, 
 Meet, as a merry-making gathers 
 Young children round their old grand-fathers j 
 Backed by the ".glittering skirts" of London, 9 
 Its buildings now in shade, now sunn'd on, — 
 'Twould surely any tourist gravel, 
 (Or home or foreign be his travel,) 
 In rummaging his sketch-book through, 
 To find a more enlivening view 
 
ADVIOK TO JULIA. 53 
 
 Than here, by art and nature moulded, 
 
 Is to his careless eye unfolded. 
 
 Yet, to go further and fare worse, 
 
 Folks waste their time, and drain their purse ! 
 
 There, where, in spring, the grass between 
 Each dusty stripe looks fresh and green, 
 Methinks I see the russet track 
 Worn by the hoofs of Charles's hack, 
 Practised to tread, with gentle pace, 
 The paths of that enchanting place. 
 Yet Charles that gentle pace would check, 
 Throw the loose reins on Sancho's neck, 
 And from the saddle, at his ease, 
 Enjoy the landscape and the breeze, 
 
54 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 As moved the nymphs, in mingled ranks, 
 On to the river's gravelly banks, 
 Glancing between the rugged boles 
 Of ancient elms their parasols, 
 Whose hues — but similes must fail.— 
 A rainbow, or a peacock's tail, 
 Or painter's pallet, to the eye 
 Scarce offers such variety 
 As the protecting silk which shades 
 At once, and decks these lovely maids, 
 While, smartly Spencer ed, ev'n the ugly 
 Under its Cupolas look smugly. 
 
 Meantime, escaped their eastern dens, 
 A crowd of sober citizens, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 55 
 
 Thus tempted, seem to have forgot 
 Their Sunday's lesson, — " Covet not/' 
 And in the mirror of these waters 
 Admire each other s wives and daughters, 
 Who linger where the river shelves, 
 Not backward to admire themselves. 
 
 Say, Julia, had you no compunction 
 In issuing such a hard injunction ? 
 Say for what cause, avowed or hidden, 
 A lounge so harmless is forbidden, 
 While Charles, the laughing world to blind, 
 Hints that a man may change his mind? — 
 Thither he spurs his hack no more, 
 But votes the whole concern a bore \ 
 
56 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Has weaned his feet from ice and skaits, 
 
 And left to Cocker threes and eights. 
 
 The breeze may blow, the sun may shine, 
 
 He's never at the Serpentine : 
 
 In vain the girls and deer so fallow 
 
 Sport on its banks, — he swears 'tis yellow, lX> 
 
 And wonders how he e'er could dream 
 
 Of beauty in so foul a stream ! 
 
 Dark are the mists exhaled from passion. 
 How have they dimmed this glass of fashion ! 
 Julia, to you the loss we owe 
 Of all that's perfect in a Beau. 
 You've marred the model, bent the rule, 
 Disgraced and broken up the school 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 57 
 
 Where unfledged coxcombs, newly caught, 
 Were, by his bright example, taught 
 More in one season, than their peers 
 Now master in a dozen years. 
 
 But how shall I, unblamed, express 
 The awful mysteries of Dress 5 
 How, all unpractised, dare to tell 
 The art sublime, ineffable, 
 Of making middling men look well $ 
 Men who had been such heavy sailors 
 But for their shoe-makers and tailors ? 
 So, by the cutler's sharpening skill, 
 The bluntest weapons wound and kill : 
 So, when 'tis scarcely fit to eat, 
 Good cooks, by dressing, flavour meat. 
 
 I 
 
58 ADVICE TO JULIA*. 
 
 And as, by steam impressed with motion 
 'Gainst wind and tide, across the ocean, 
 The merest tub will far outstrip 
 The progress of the lightest ship 
 That ever on the waters glided, 
 If with an engine unprovided 5 — 
 Thus Beaus, in person and in mind 
 Excelled by those they leave behind, 
 On, through the world, undaunted, press > 
 Backed by the mighty power of Dress 5 
 While folks less confident than they 
 Stare, in mute wonder, — and give way. 
 
 Charles was a master, a professor 
 Of this great art — ajirst-rate dresser. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 59 
 
 Oft have I traced him through the town, 
 Mowing whole ranks of beauty down, 
 Armed at all points, from head to foot, 
 From rim of hat to tip of boot. 
 Above so loose, below so braced, 
 In chest exuberant, and in waist 
 Just like an hour-glass, or a wasp, 
 So tightened, he could scarcely gasp. 
 Cold was the nymph who did not dote 
 Upon him, in his new-built coat 5 
 Whose heart could parry the attacks 
 Of his voluminous Cossacks — 
 Trowsers so called from those barbarians 
 Nursed in the Steppes— the Crim-Tartarians, 
 Who, when they scour a country, under 
 Those ample folds conceal their plunder. 
 
60 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 How strange their destiny has been ! 
 
 Promoted, since the yeax fifteen, 
 
 In honour of these fierce allies, 
 
 To grace our British legs and thighs. 
 
 Fashion 's a tide which nothing stems 5 
 
 So the Don mingles with the Thames ! n 
 
 But, ere his darts were aimed to kill, 
 One chanli, he knew, was wanting still. 
 " Weak," would he cry, " are the attacks 
 " Of your voluminous Cossacks. 
 c< In vain to suffocation braced 
 " And bandaged is your wasp-like waist ; 
 " In vain your buckram-wadded shoulders 
 " And chest astonish all beholders 5 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA, 61 
 
 {< Wear any coat you will, 'tis fruitless 5 
 
 " Those shoes, those very boots are bootless, 
 
 u Whose tops ('twas I advised the mixture) 
 
 c< Are moveable, and spurs a fixture : 
 
 " All is unprofitable, flat, 
 
 (i And stale, without a smart Cravat, 
 
 " Muslined enough to hold its starch — 
 
 " That last key-stone of Fashion's arch !" 
 
 u Have you, my friend," IVe heard him say, 
 u Been lucky in your turns to-day ? — 12 
 " Think not that what I ask alludes 
 " To Fortune's stale vicissitudes, 
 " To her capricious ups and downs, 
 <e Her treacherous smiles, or withering frowns : 
 
62 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 " Nor have I now, alas ! to learn 
 
 " How cards, and dice, and women turn, 
 
 " And what prodigious contributions 
 
 " They levy, in their revolutions : 
 
 " Nor heed I, if, in times so critical, 
 
 " You've managed well your turns political. 
 
 " The turns of your Cravat I mean, 
 
 " Tell me if these have lucky been ? 
 
 <c Have your attempts at once succeeded, 
 
 (f Or (while an hour has passed unheeded 
 
 C( And unregretted) have you toiled 
 
 " Till a week's laundry has been spoiled, 
 
 " Ere round your neck, in every fold 
 
 " Exact, the muslin has been rolled, 
 
 " And, dexterously in front confined, 
 
 <c Has kept the proper set behind ; 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 6 
 
 " Not letting loose, nor pinning in 
 " One jot too much of cheek or chin ? 
 " In short, by dint of hand and eye, 
 " Have you achieved a perfect tie ? — 
 u These are my turns, — 'twere idle pother 
 " To waste a thought on any other. 
 
 " Should yours (kind heaven, avert the omen !) 
 " Like the cravats of vulgar, low men, 
 u Asunder start — and, yawning wide, 
 u Disclose a chasm on either side, 
 " Letting, behind its checkered screen, 
 " The secrets of your throat be seen -, 
 " Or should it stubbornly persist 
 " To take some awkward tasteless twist, 
 
64 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 u Some crease indelible, and look 
 
 <c Just like a dunce's dog's-eared book, 
 
 " How would you parry the disgrace ? 
 
 u In what assembly show your face } 
 
 " How brook your rival's scornful glance, 
 
 u Or partner's titter in the dance ? 
 
 " How, in the morning, dare to meet 
 
 <c The quizzers of the park or street ? 
 
 " Your occupation 's gone, — in vain 
 
 " Hope to dine out, or flirt again. 
 
 " The ladies from their lists will put you, 
 
 <c And even /, my friend, must cut you !" 
 
 Such once was Charles. — No doctrine sounder 
 Than his, no principles profounder $ 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 65 
 
 And well he practised what he knew, 
 Himself the great sublime he drew ! 
 Ere yet, in deep dismay, the town 
 Mourned o'er his abdicated crown, 
 Such tvas our hero, — now where is he ? 
 Fall'n headlong from a height so dizzy, 
 (Regardless of the shame and risk,) 
 Charm'd by your eyes, you basilisk ! 
 These, Julia, are the tender mercies 
 Of you enchantresses, you Circes ! 
 See him,, almost a sloven grown, 
 Muse on your shape, neglect his own. 
 His absent thoughts, like needle true, 
 Not on the muslin fixed, but you, 
 And for hi& image, in the glass 
 Viewing, or fancying yours, my lass, 
 
66 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 On cheeks that glow, on lips that pout 
 He gazes, till his hand is out. 
 Then, all his turns are put to flight, 
 Then fade the tapers on his sight. 
 Visions of Love and Beauty rise, 
 And wean him from his dearest ties. 
 
 No more his well-brushed hair is sleek 
 With eau de miel, or huile antique. 13 
 The golden key no more unlocks, 
 By BramaKs aid, his rose-wood box $ 
 And with the treasures there displayed, 
 Dazzles the wondering chambermaid 3 
 As, on her broom reclined, she pauses, 
 Ogling the silver cups and vases, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 67 
 
 Whence steams a mingled soft perfume , 
 New to her nostrils, through the room. 
 
 No more with buckram or with wool 
 His overloaded bosom 's full 5 
 One glance from you is quite enough 
 To " cleanse it of that perilous stuff." 
 Loosed by the spell of your endearments, 
 His tortured ribs have burst their cerements, 
 And, like delinquents freed from jail, 
 His waist is fairly out on bail. 
 Julia, you've moved its habeas- corpus ; 
 But when the man is grown a porpus, 
 Long, long before the season 's ended, 
 You'll wish it had been still suspended. 
 
 f2 
 
68 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Converted thus, with all the zeal 
 Which converts or affect or feel, 
 For errors past he makes amends, 
 By quizzing all his former friends ; 
 Forgets how long he was their tutor, 
 And grows at once their persecutor ; 
 Derides the stiff cravats and collars 
 And braces of his favourite scholars, 
 Laughs at his own apostate jokes, 
 And dresses — just like other folks. 
 
 If * * * * gen ds a car( j to dine, 
 The fool 's engaged, or drinks no wine ; 
 Though, all last season, what a swiller he 
 Was of Champaigne, mousseuw and sillery, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 69 
 
 At every mouthful, all the way 
 From soup to fondu and souffle I 
 Digressing, in the heat of action, 
 To Burgundy, from mere distraction, 
 And thence to perfumed hock, and from it 
 Scenting the vintage of the comet. 
 Scarce pausing, when he had so far eat, 
 How knowingly he'd sip his claret ! 
 With gentle undulation handle 
 The glass, upheld 'twixt nose and candle, 
 That glass so thin in bowl and stem, 
 Which just suspends the liquid gem j 
 Then, with a wager or an oath, 
 Pronounce upon its age and growth. 
 
70 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 How changed ! For him the iced Champaigne 
 Steams from its silver vase in vain 5 
 Round after round, decanters pass 
 Unheeded by his empty glass. 
 He's quite ashamed to be punctilious, 
 But never was a man so bilious - } 
 Talks of the fruits of living gaily., 
 Of Calomel, and Doctor Baillie ; 
 Has lost his taste, can scarcely tell 
 A Salmi from a Bechamelle ; 
 Swears there's no banquetting like love, 
 No turtle like the turtle-dove ; 
 And, ere the wine comes round again, 
 Shies, bolts — and slips away by ten. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. J\ 
 
 I hear (perhaps the story false is) 
 From Almack's, that he never waltzes ; 
 With Lady Anne, or Lady Biddy 
 Twirling, till he's in love or giddy 3 
 The girl a pigmy, he a giant , 
 His cravat stiff, her corset pliant. 
 There,, while some jaded couple stops, 
 The rest go round like humming-tops, 
 Each in the circle, with its neighbour 
 Sharing alternate rest and labour : 
 While many a gentle chaperon 
 (As the fair Dervises spin on) 
 Sighs, with regret, that she was courted 
 Ere this new fashion was imported, 
 Ere the dull minuet-step had vanished, 
 With jigs and country-capers banished. 
 
72 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 But Charles, whose energy relaxes, 
 No more revolves upon his axis, 
 As sounds of cymbal and of drum, 
 Deep clanging, from th' orchestra come, 
 And round him moves, in radiance bright, 
 Some beauteous beaming satellite ; 
 Nor ventures, as the night advances, 
 On a new partner in French dances \ 
 Nor, his high destiny fulfilling 
 Through all the mazes of quadrilling -, 
 Holds, lest the figure should be hard, 
 Close to his nose a printed card. 
 Which, for their special use invented, 
 To Beaus, on entrance, is presented \ 
 A strange device, one must allow, 
 But useful— as it tells them how 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA 73 
 
 To foot it in the proper places, 
 
 Much better than their partners' faces. 
 
 O ! Julia, could you now but creep 
 Incog into the room and peep, 
 Well might you triumph in the view 
 Of all he has resigned for you ! 
 Mark, how the married and the single 
 In yon gay groups delighted mingle ! 
 Midst diamonds blazing, tapers beaming, 
 Midst Georges, stars, and crosses gleaming, 
 We gaze on beauty, catch the sound 
 Of music, and of mirth around -, 
 And Discord feels her empire ended 
 At Almack's, — or at least suspended. 
 
74 
 
 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Here is the only coalition 
 'Twixt Government and Opposition ; 
 Here parties,, dropping hostile notions, 
 Make, on their legs, the self-same motions. 
 Beauty each angry passion quenches, 
 And seats them on the self-same benches, 
 Where they uphold, without a schism, 
 The Patronesses' despotism $ 
 The Whig, for female power and glory 
 As great a stickler as the Tory : 
 For, mortals, happy you may be 
 At Almack's, but you can't be free ; 
 Bent both in body and in soul 
 To gentle, absolute control. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 75 
 
 Yet though despotic, why should any call 
 Its wholesome exercise tyrannical ? 
 Unlike all tyrants since the flood, 
 They only mean their subjects' good. 
 
 What form is that, with looks so sinister ?— 
 Willis, their Excellencies' minister. — 
 See where in portly pride he stands 
 To execute their high commands \ 
 Unmoved his heart, unbribed his hands. 
 See, where the barrier he prepares 
 Just at the bottom of the stairs, 
 Midst fragrant flowers and shrubs exotic ;~ 
 A man relentless and despotic 
 As he of Tunis, or Algiers, 
 Or any of their Grand Visiers. 
 
 X 
 
 s 
 
76 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Suppose the prize by hundreds miss'd 
 Is yours at last. — You're on the list. — 
 Your voucher's issued, duly signed 5 
 But hold — your ticket's left behind. 
 What's to be done? there's no admission. 
 In vain you flatter, scold, petition, 
 Feel your blood mounting like a rocket. 
 Fumble in vain in every pocket. 
 " The rule's so strict, I dare not stretch it," 
 Cries Willis, u pray, my lord, go fetch it." — 
 " Nonsense !" you cry, " so late at night — 
 « Surely you know me, sir, by sight." 
 " Excuse me — the committee sat 
 " This morning." — " Did they, what of that?" 
 " An order given this very day 
 4 My lord, I dare not disobey." 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 77 
 
 u Your pardon/' Further parley's vain -, 
 
 So for your ticket, in the rain, 
 Breathless, you canter home again. 
 Thus cured (and can th* expense be less ?) 
 Are absence, and forgetfulness. 
 
 And say, do they abuse their powers 
 'Gainst ultra-fashionable hours ? — 
 Here once you walked your midnight round 
 In vain, — no creature could be found, 
 Save a few stragglers, in the vapours 
 From gazing at the walls and tapers* 
 Then not a dance could be begun, 
 Waltz, or quadrille, till after One ; 
 While, without music, friends, or books 
 Perchance, at home on tenter-hooks, 
 
 } 
 
78 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 The least contended with the greatest 
 
 Who should come lounging in the latest. 
 
 But is not now the law, in letter 
 
 And spirit, altered for the better, 
 
 Since our fair Sovereigns' last Ukase 
 
 Has peopled the enchanted place, 
 
 And forced the crowd, ere midnight strike, 
 
 To do the very thing they like ? 
 
 All, with their other pleasures, gaining 
 
 Perhaps the greatest — of complaining. 
 
 What sounds were those? — O earth and heaven ! 
 Heard you the chimes — half past eleven ? 
 They tell, with iron tongue, your fate, 
 Unhappy lingerer, if you're late. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 79 
 
 Haste, while you may. — Behold ! approaches l4 
 
 The last of yonder string of coaches ; 
 
 Stern Willis, in a moment more, 
 
 Closes th' inexorable door, 
 
 And great the conjuror must be 
 
 Who can cry ec open, Sesame !" 
 
 So when a packet hurries over 
 From Calais, through the straits, to Dover, 
 Her sails all set to save her tide 
 And supper, on the other side; 
 Wishing the force of steam were lent her, 
 While luckier ships the harbour enter, 
 Just with her bowsprit on the town, 
 Tis ebb, — the fatal flag 's hauled down ! 
 
80 ADVICE TO JULIA, 
 
 She sees, and sickening at the sight, 
 Lies to, or beats about all night. 
 
 Such is the rule, which none infringes. 
 The door one jot upon its hinges 
 Moves not. Once past the fatal hour, 
 Willis has no dispensing power. 
 Spite of persuasion, tears, or force, 
 " The law," he cries, " must take its course. 
 And men may swear, and women pout. 
 No matter, — they are all shut out. 
 
 " Friend, I'm The Ministry, — give way!* 1 
 " Avaunt, Lord Viscount Castlereagh ! 
 " You're doubtless in the Commons' House 
 " A mighty man, but here a mouse. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 81 
 
 u This evening there was no debate 
 u Or business> and your lordship's late. 
 <c We show no favour, give no quarter 
 €t Here, to your ribbon, or your garter. 
 " Here for a Congress no one cares, 
 t€ Save that alone which sits up stairs/* 
 
 Fair Worcester pleads with Wellington ; 
 Valour with Beauty. " Hence, begone ! 
 " Perform elsewhere your destined parts, 
 u One conquer kingdoms, t'other hearts. 
 " My lord, you'll have enough to do -, 
 " Almack's is not like Waterloo. 
 " Awhile lay by that wreath of laurels, 
 u Culled in composing Europe's quarrels ; 
 
 G 
 
82 ADVICE TO JULIA* 
 
 €< Secure, the war-whoop at her door, 
 " In Britain's cause to gather more." — 
 For the first time in vain, his Grace 
 Sits down in form before the place, 
 Finds, let him shake it to the centre, 
 One fortress that he cannot enter, 
 Though he should offer on its borders 
 The sacrifice of half his orders. 
 The English Duke — the Spanish Lord — 
 The Prince of Flanders — drops his sword ; 
 Compelled at last, ere break of day, 
 To raise the siege, and march away ! 
 
 Thus our fair Sovereigns c * rule the ball f 
 Thus equal are their laws for all ! — 
 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 83 
 
 Yet, since no word, nor thought, nor action 
 Of Greatness can escape detraction ; 
 Since never yet has been invented 
 The art to make us all contented \ 
 A few there are, whom fools or mad I call, 
 With notions of reform quite radical 5 
 Eager to change the constitution 
 Of Almack's by a revolution -, 
 Rebels, whose fancy is so stricken 
 With peas, asparagus, and chicken, 
 That, if they ever get the upper- 
 Hand, they'll insist upon a supper. 
 Nay some, apostles of sedition, 
 Have lately ventured to petition 5 
 To rail at Congo and Bohea, 
 Because, forsooth, they are but tea; 
 
 g 2 
 
84 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Libels on London-cream to utter, 
 
 And quarrel with their bread and butter. 
 
 ' How niggardly/ they cry, ' to stoop 
 
 < To paltry black and green from soup ! 
 r Once, a mere novice could explain 
 
 € His wishes over iced Champagne, 
 ' And claret, ev'n of second growth, 
 
 * Gave spirit to his vow or oath. 
 
 < But now, what lifeless love is made 
 ' On cakes, orgeat, and lemonade ! 
 
 ' The timid heart, the weary heel, 
 ' Require a full substantial meal j 
 € Women, when hungry, are unkind, 
 ' And men too faint to speak their mind. 
 ' Tea mars all mirth, makes evenings drag, 
 
 * And talk grow flat, and courtship flag ; 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 85 
 
 ' Tea, mawkish beverage, is the reason 
 4 Why all the flirtings of the season 
 ' Fill with ten marriages, at most, 
 ' The columns of the Morning- Post. 
 
 ' Return, blest days— or rather nights IS 
 ' Of dear, ineffable delights, 
 < When all the West, at Fashion's call, 
 
 • Flocked to a Piccadilly-ball, 
 
 ' And found their multitudes increased 
 ' By strong detachments from the East. 
 ' When hungry crowds, with dancing jaded, 
 ' Down the great stair-case promenaded, 
 
 * (A term invented then for rushing, 
 
 6 Squeezing, and elbowing, and pushing) 
 
86 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 ' To feast below, 'midst blooming faces, 
 
 ' On all the season's delicacies, 
 
 ' And under tables stretch their legs 
 
 ' Heaped with green-peas, and plovers' eggs. 
 
 ' There fragrant pines, 'midst strawberries, grapes, 
 
 ' And cherries, reared their graceful shapes, 
 
 ' Sent up in cotton to regale 
 
 c Our palates, by the Yorkshire mail $ 
 
 ' And though (since fruits, when fire has done 
 
 ( Its utmost, languish for the sun) 
 
 < Tasteless and flat, yet folks were lost 
 
 ' In wonder at the sums they cost. 
 
 ( Then " wreathed smiles" went round, and speeches 
 ( Fine, forced, and plentiful — as peaches, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 87 
 
 * And costly wines on every side 
 
 ' Poured their bright current far and wide. 
 ' Hark to the toast from many a guest 
 
 * Grateful, elated, and refreshed. 
 
 " Here's to our generous hostess' health ! 
 u How nobly she employs her wealth 
 " Who, though five hundred are set down, 
 u Finds chickens* wings for all the town !" 16 
 
 ' What feelings the remembrance rouses ! 
 ' Past is the golden age of Houses. 
 4 No tongue can tell the difference, no pen, 
 r Now, scarce a door of one is open. — 
 ' Ne'er shall we see, I'll venture odds, 
 I Such nights and suppers of the Gods ; 
 ' Feasting's now folly, fasting clever, 
 ■ And London's glory gone for ever !' 
 
S8 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Too warm, my friend, your anger waxes 5 
 Consider, pray, the war and taxes. 
 First 'twas Napoleon and the French. 
 Now 'tis The Peace.— We must retrench. 
 War was a bitter scourge and curse ; 
 Yet peace is, somehow, ten times worse* 
 Peace, or (as more than one division 
 Has gravely voted it) Transition, 
 As Commerce droops and times grow harder, 
 Shuts here a cellar, there a larder ; 
 By slow, yet sure degrees, disables 
 Parks, gardens, eating-rooms, and stables ; 
 Nor yet in her career relents, 
 But mows down whole establishments. 
 The poor, the middling, shoot a pitch 
 More and more humble 3 — ev'n the rich 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 89 
 
 From whose fat acres milk and honey 
 
 Keep flowing in the shape of money, 
 
 For lean economy produce 
 
 If not a reason,, an excuse. 
 
 Their rates are high, their rents decrease, 
 
 Their corn 's a drug ; — 'tis all the Peace ! 
 
 This jade-like Peace ! Say, who will father her, 
 
 Unless she's sworn to the tax-gatherer? 
 
 Then only think, you grumbling ninny, 
 Three such assemblies for a guinea ! 
 Tell me, should supper banish tea, 
 Could one so smart be given for three ? 
 With dinner too at eight served up, 
 Pray when do you propose to sup ? 
 Man, to exist, must eat, I grant ; 
 But, if you're not a cormorant, 
 
90 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 How late must be the morning's light 
 That dawns upon your appetite ! 
 
 For Charles, he never gave advice on 
 That knotty point, Champagne or Hyson, 
 But, letting others urge their plea 
 For supper, was content with tea. 
 Hunger might do its worst — the smart 
 He felt was in a nobler part, 
 Not in his stomach, but his heart $ 
 Temptation at each glance redoubling, 
 When cups went round and urns were bubbling 
 For nymphs whose beauty well might move 
 The coldest of our sex to love. 
 
 O ! that I dared, since hearts of iron 
 Melt at the strains of Moore and Byron, 
 
 I 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. VI 
 
 Borrow their thoughts and language now 
 To paint our Almack's Belles ! for how 
 Unless their Muse rny fancy warms, 
 Describe such features and such forms \ 
 The hair in auburn waves, or flaxen, 
 Shading their necks and shoulders waxen, 
 The curls that on fair bosoms lie 
 In clusters of deep ebony ! 
 How dare to dwell ('tis so immoral) 
 On downy cheeks, and lips of coral, 
 On eyes of sapphire or of jet 
 Beneath their brows o'er-arching set, 
 (Eyes which, no matter what their hue. 
 Are sure to beat you— black and blue) 
 Or shapes, as if by sculpture moulded, 
 In shining drapery enfolded ! 
 
92 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 To give their graceful motions scope, 
 Now, tightly stretched, the barrier-rope 
 Hems in Quadrillers, nymph and spark, 
 Like bounding deer within a park $ 
 Now dropped, transforms the floor again 
 For Waltzers, to an open plain. 
 Approach, O votary of Hymen ! 
 Be thou of forward, or of shy men. 
 Approach, and at the luck rejoice 
 Which yields such beauty to your choice. 
 This is the moment to advance, 
 To claim your partner in the dance, 
 And if your fancy paints one fairer 
 Than other nymphs, to win and wear her. 
 
 But ere you try your fortune, lend 
 An ear to good advice, my friend, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 93 
 
 And keep, if not an elder brother, 
 
 Your distance from her aunt and mother. 
 
 Of youthful hearts those ruthless breakers 
 
 Will weigh your passion with your acres \ 
 
 They deem no folly half so great 
 
 As love, without a large estate 5 
 
 And think the nation ne'er will thrive 
 
 Where younger sons presume to wive. 
 
 Do what you will, say what you can, 
 
 * Manors,' 1 they tell you, " make the man." 
 
 Hence, flames and darts ! ye amorous sighs, hence ! 
 Breathe not without — a Special licence! 
 For what are favors, bride-cakes, honey- 
 Moons, without equipage and money ? 
 
94 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Cupids in vain around them hover, 
 Unless (the conjuration over 
 Which makes a husband of a lover) 
 Four conscious horses, strong and supple, 
 Whisk from the door the happy couple, 
 And lodge them in that deep retreat 
 Impregnable — a country-seat 5 
 There, haply in the sultry season, 
 Condemned, without one earthly reason, 
 To struggle through a week's warm weather 
 In hopeless solitude together. 
 
 Strange work of Fate, with Custom leaguing, 
 To make ev'n happiness fatiguing ! 
 Think how this caging must perplex 
 Two persons, though of different sex \ 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 95 
 
 Unless kind fortune sends a third 
 To put in, now and then, a word ! 
 For lovers may, when raptures fail, 
 When tender tete-a-tetes grow stale, 
 And Time creeps on with pinions leaded, 
 Wax very weary — though they're wedded. 
 
 Thus many a pair, so lately free, 
 Take their first lesson in Ennui ) 
 And justly may be dunces reckoned, 
 If not quite perfect in a second. 
 Surely 'twere kinder not to banish 
 These turtles, — not to bid them vanish 
 At once into some rustic den, 
 Far from the cheerful haunts of men, 
 Till they are reconciled, and broke 
 A little to the nuptial yoke. 
 
96 ADVICE TO JUI.TA. 
 
 Launched in a life so strange and new, 
 
 Society should help them through, 
 
 As training makes young colts less wild, 
 
 Or as a go-cart props a child, 
 
 Until, by practice steady grown, 
 
 Its infant limbs can move alone. 
 
 Say, why should grots and shrubberies hide 
 A lawful bridegroom and a bride ? 
 Why must they, lost in shady groves, 
 Fit shelter for unlicensed loves, 
 Steal from the' approving world, and seek 
 A long probationary week 
 Of close retirement, as profound 
 As if they both were under ground ? 
 Twelve hours of every four-and-twenty 
 Left to themselves, methinks, were plenty. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA, 97 
 
 Then why to villas hurry down. 
 
 When these, fond pair, are yours in town ? 
 
 Be counselled. — Stir not, near or far, 
 But stay, I charge you, where you are. 
 The dream of passion soon or late 
 
 Is broken don't anticipate. 
 
 Haste not to lose your hopes in fears, 
 Stark mad for moments, dull for years j 
 Devour not, for your comfort's sake, 
 At once, like children, all your cake ; 
 Truth (on your memory well engrave it) 
 Whispers, you cannot eat and have it. 
 Gold is too precious, — lay it not 
 So thickly on a single spot ; 
 
 ii 
 
98 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 But beat the bullion — husbands, wives — 
 And spread it over all your lives. 
 
 But whither does my zeal mislead me } 
 And why these warnings ? — None will heed me. 
 My marriage-maxims too, though fine, 
 Are not, Miss Julia, in your line : 
 So to the theme I bid adieu, 
 And hasten back to Charles and you. 
 
 If thus from Almack's he withdraws, 
 What but your witchcraft is the cause } 
 What but your spells — if now no more 
 The hero hurries, as before, 
 The self-same crowds, next night, to meet 
 For novelty, in Argyll-street. 
 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 99 
 
 Thither they run from space and ease 
 
 At Almack's, to secure a squeeze $ 
 
 Taught by long practice, to a tittle, 
 
 How too much room endears too little. 
 
 There, in the midst of Perlet's acting, 
 
 (Reckoned so easy %nd attracting) 
 
 Would he contrive that not a word 
 
 The Frenchman uttered should be heard ; 
 
 Sending all innocent away 
 
 Of sense or meaning in the play : 
 
 A practice somewhat rude, 'tis true, 
 
 Ev'n for the fashion 5 — but he knew 
 
 How often there, with colour faded, 
 
 Dress rumpled and attention jaded, 
 
 A fair one will affect to listen, 
 
 And gaze with eves that never glisten 
 
 h 2 
 
 Ufa 
 
100 ADVICB TO JULIA, 
 
 Till Fancy paints what, after all, 
 Delights her most — the' approaching ball. 
 
 'Tis over, — and he never drives 
 To White's, or Brooks's for French Jives, 
 Where nights, amidst the anxious sport, 
 Can't be too long, nor whist too short r 
 Nor kills an evening at the Play, 
 Lest you should think he goes astray, 
 Nor Opera, where he might be hit 
 By a chance-medley from the pit 5 
 Nor dares with partiejlne to sup — 
 In short, the man is quite done up. 
 
 Should he propose a trip to Paris, 
 Tis ten to one the scheme miscarries. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 101 
 
 What, — you consent to trust your lo~er 
 One inch beyond the Straits of Dover ? 
 Trust him to run the giddy round 
 Of pleasure on enchanted ground, 
 To follow all his whims and fancies 
 In such a ticklish place as France is ) 
 That region where the sun *s so bright, 
 The air so pure, the wine so light ! 
 To canter, through a land like this, 
 Up to its gay Metropolis $ 
 There walk the Boulevards, there enjoy all 
 The orgies of the Palais-royal, 
 That central mart of provocation, 
 Where every step 's a fresh temptation j 
 Where all (who stray, without a clue, in) 
 Have their full choice of roads to ruin, 
 
102 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 As if some demon took their measure, 
 Each fitted with his favourite pleasure 5 
 Each, could a new one be invented, 
 Indulged with that, if not contented. 
 
 How short the lesson of the school ! 
 How easy is its only rule ! 
 
 u Buy toys, — make love, — laugh, eat, and drink. 
 " Not often sleep, and never think. 
 " From joy to joy, unquestioned, ramble 5 
 " But chiefly, O my pupils ! — gamble. 
 " Winning, you'll seldom take your gains out ; 
 " But losing— you may blow your brains out." 
 
 Grant he avoids that dangerous den, 
 Or enters it unhurt. — What then ? 
 
. ADVICK TO JULIA. 103 
 
 In every street the mischief lurks, 
 
 The dear delicious poison works. 
 
 Who shall a conflagration hinder 
 
 'Midst sparks so thickly showered on tinder? 
 
 Where'er he wanders, nets are spread, 
 
 Traps baited, for his heart or head. 
 
 Let him but enter their spectacles, 
 
 Some syren puts him into shackles : 
 
 He's hers, — 'tis useless to rebel, 
 
 She dances, sings, or acts so well. 
 
 Then he has read in heathen books 
 
 That Goddesses have just such looks 3 
 
 And, should he manage to escape her eye, 
 
 Falls a sure victim to the drapery 
 
 Whose folds so openly display 
 
 Her beauties in the new ballet. 
 
104 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Perchance, where sparks regale their lasses 
 With Roman punch, sorbets, and glaces, 
 Careless, unthoughtful, and alone, he's 
 Strolling through Coblentz to Tortoni's, 17 
 <( Stung with the thoughts " of ice, or lingering, 
 Caught by the wire or catgut-lingering 
 Of some young minstrel, whose romances 
 Are carolled, while her sister dances, 
 While the bright moon, or evening star 
 Beams on her Savoyard-guitar. 
 There gentle mingles with plebeian, 
 And drumming hares with pipes Pandean. 
 There, rays from rope-suspended lamps 
 (Undimmed, as through our island-damps) 
 Light up the chairs in triple rows 
 Where listless staring Belles repose ; 
 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 105 
 
 Those chairs so cheap, that no one blushes 
 Because their b ottoms are of rushes, 
 When rest for hours and such a view 
 Are purchased for a single sou ,• 
 When thus they blend, in sultry weather, 
 Ease and economy together. 
 
 But who can tell, unless they travel, 
 The value of our English gravel ? 
 O ! for one drop of water, just 
 To cool the air and lay the dust ! 
 What, through the dog-days, then were wanting 
 To make this Coblentz quite enchanting ? 
 But nothing^ perfect since the flood 5 
 So summer's dust is winter's mud. 
 
106 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 If here his frozen heart he hardens, 
 Tis melted in the TinHeries* gardens. 
 Who can resist, when there he wanders, 
 Midst orange trees and oleanders, 
 When through the, air a soft perfume 
 Is wafted — when parterres in bloom 
 Fling their bright colours on the eye, 
 In every gay variety 5 
 When the young season's freshest green 
 Upon the quivering limes is seen, 
 And fountains sparkle, upward springing, 
 And skies are blue, and birds are singing — 
 Birds of another tribe than fills 
 Our streets with dingy plumes and bills, 
 (For there's no court so dark and narrow 
 Among us, but it boasts its sparrow) 
 
\ 
 
 s 
 
 ADVICE TO JULIA. 107 
 
 Those birds that roost as much at ease 
 On chimneys as they would on trees \ 
 Save that the dainty ones repair, 
 From high ideas of fresh air, 
 To Grosvenor-gate, or Grosvenor-square, 
 And haunt the blackened shrubs, and stir up 
 Our spleen with one eternal chirrup. 
 Such, London, are thy feather'd quires ; 
 Thanks to thy smoke and sea-coal fires. 
 
 Enough. — From sights and sounds like these 
 Return we to the Tuilleries, 
 Whose gardens, in the month of May, 
 Might lead an anchoret astray. 
 And Charles is safe, thus tempted, is he ? 
 When female eyes and lips are busy \ 
 
108 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 By all the coinage of love's mint 
 Unbribed — the glance, the smile, the hint, 
 From nymphs who more than share the anguish 
 Of dull adorers when they languish, 
 Who, all compassionate and tender, 
 Wait but the summons to surrender. 
 
 What boots it, lovely Julia, that you 
 Are modelled like the Grecian statue l8 
 Whose marble warmed to flesh and blood } 
 That Nature, in her happiest mood, 
 Has given you (not to bring disgrace 
 On such a form) that faultless face ? 
 Can you, thus beautiful, be sure 
 He won't prefer the French tournure ? 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 The wisest differ, as I've heard, 
 
 About the meaning of that word $ 
 
 But 'tis the bait (howe er they wrangle) 
 
 With which those female-fishers angle. 
 
 From me far be it to disparage 
 
 The' attraction of their air and carriage : 
 
 But flowers and levantines and laces 
 
 Are great embellishers of faces ; 
 
 And very ordinary women 
 
 Contrive, by dint of tulle and trimming, 
 
 A conjuration w r hich atones 
 
 For bead-like eyes, and high cheek-bones. 
 
 Tempters so new, and so unlike 
 
 Our English Belles, cant fail to strike, 
 
 And make each raw unpractised stranger 
 
 Quite perfect in the part of Ranger. 
 
 109 
 
110 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 The short, quick, mincing step they walk with, 
 The ease and gaiety they talk with, 
 Are tricks on travellers, and tell, 
 Though short of beauty, quite as well : 
 Besetting with as strong temptation 
 Capricious Man's imagination. 
 
 In Marmontel youll find a story 
 Julia, ('tis written con amove,) 
 'Mongst those which our translators, for all 
 Their freedom, choose to construe " moval /' 
 Though there's a difference or so, 
 As every boarding-school should know, 
 'Twixt Moval tales and Contes movaux. 
 There, the snub-nose of Roxalana, 
 To whom the Sultan could not say nay, 
 
 ! 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. Ill 
 
 Allures him, when he cannot bed her 
 Without the sacrifice — to wed her, 
 Although excelled in form and features 
 By fifty lovely, loving creatures, 
 Collected from all earthly places 
 To court .that tyrant-Turk's embraces 5 
 For she was gay, and pert, and coolish, 
 And they, though fond, were flat and foolish. 
 
 Sprightly like her and debonnair, 
 'Tis granted, are the Gallic fair : 
 Besides, to arm them, Chance has sent 
 A still more killing instrument, 
 A weapon from which none escapes, 
 Though proof against their eyes and shapes, 
 That Schal, or rather that Cachemire, 
 So Eastern, fanciful, and dear ! 
 
112 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 The difference 'twixt the two is curious^ 
 
 Cachemire is real, Schal is spurious 5 
 
 One's French or English, t'other Persian. — 
 
 Both were, till lately, our aversion, 
 
 Save in the winter, when designed 
 
 As screens against the frost and wind.. 
 
 But be it Cachemire, — be it Schal, 
 
 Genuine, or false, 'tis all in all. 
 
 'Twill bribe a woman in a trice, 
 
 'Tis Fashion's touchstone, Virtue's price ! 
 
 The sex's glory and delight, 
 
 Their thought by day, their dream by night ! 
 
 In vain the Paris fair-one dresses ; 
 Vain is the coral in her tresses, 
 Or on her neck. — To make her smart, 
 Nature in vain conspires with Art -, 
 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 113 
 
 In vain the Loves and Graces mould her, 
 Unless the Cachemire's web enfold her, 
 Or fling its all-subduing charm 
 In careless dangle from her arm : 
 With it she triumphs, though a fright 
 Or slattern, in her sex's spite -, 
 But young or old, in frost or heat, 
 At home, or in the crowded street, 
 At opera, promenade, or trim ball, 
 Without it she's a tinkling cymbal. 
 
 You've reason for your fears 5 'tis granted. 
 
 Julia, these Cachemires are enchanted, 
 And could not thus have turned men's heads, 
 But for some witchery in their threads. 
 
 1 
 
114 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 m 
 
 For ne'er did Fancy's widest scope 
 
 Imagine such an envelope. 
 
 In that impartial equalizer, 
 
 Most women of one shape and size are $ 
 
 Each, huddled in her separate sack, 
 
 Alike in shoulders, neck, and back. 
 
 Say, Belles, why thus degrade your figure ? 
 
 Why are these Cachemires thus of rigour?* 
 
 " O ! they're so light, and soft, and warm !" 
 
 I own it, — but is that the charm 
 
 Which tempts their zealous votaries most ? 
 
 Or whence they come, and what they cost } 
 
 Make them at home, and let their price 
 
 Sink to their value, — in a trice 
 
 * De ri^ueur. 
 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 1 15 
 
 The owners from their limbs would tear em, 
 And ev'n their maids would scorn to wear 'em. 
 
 You've heard, my dear, perhaps, that Juno 
 (She was a heathen goddess, you know,) 
 Once begged, to make it up with Jove, 
 Her girdle from the Queen of Love } 
 For he, who little cared about her, 
 Had learned to live whole weeks without her. 
 Scarce was it on, when lo ! the spell 
 
 Succeeded, to a miracle.- 
 
 This girdle was. perchance, in all 
 Its virtues like a modern Shawl. 
 Further, the cases don't agree, 
 And here must end my simile ; 
 
 i 2 
 
116 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Since where to find (but this between us) 
 A Belle as liberal as Venus, 
 Who, for a single hour would lend 
 Her Cachemire to her dearest friend 
 And, dizening thus a fellow-charmer, 
 For pleasure or for conquest arm her ? 
 
 Then you've another apprehension 
 Almost too terrible to mention, 
 Lest, warmed by the luxurious fare 
 And wines of Very and Robert, 
 Poor Charles should get into the clutches 
 Of Livry, or of Dunan's duchess ; l9 
 Or be enticed, perchance, to dinner 
 By old De R- , that veteran sinner, 30 
 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 117 
 
 Where demi-solde and demi-reps 
 Engage at Rouge-et-noir and Creps 5 
 Or stake the desperate bubble bet 
 On fancy- numbers at Roulette : 
 So tempting is that Bank of banks, 
 Couched on whose Green, in golden ranks 
 Napoleons shine, 'midst humbler francs 5 
 So clear their wealth from puff or vapour, 
 And so convertible their paper, 
 That well may maddening crowds repair 
 To the rich mine that sparkles there, 
 In hopes, at length, by day or night, 
 To draw upon the Firm at sight 5 
 The cautious Firm, that still demurs, 
 And draws upon its customers. 
 
118 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 There avarice strives, there love of pleasure 
 Or desperate want would seize the treasure. 
 While some grave statesman, or philosopher, 
 Ponders, apart, his last night's loss over, 
 Consulting, for his chance to win, 
 That oracle the card and pin,™ 
 (As conjurors of former years 
 Predicted from the sieve and sheers,) 
 And ever, till his money's gone, 
 Keeps pricking, and shall still prick on. 
 
 Some, pouring in a fierce attack, 
 Set ten times running on the Black ,• 
 And thence, by chance or system led, 
 Shift, like boiled lobsters, to the Bed.' 2 ' 2 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 119 
 
 Some would secure the notes and cash 
 
 By dint of enterprize and dash : 
 
 Others pursue a cautious game 
 
 And venture less. Tis all the same ; 
 
 Shoot high or low, they miss their aim -, 
 
 And, keen or careless, only tend 
 
 By different paths, to one sure end. 
 
 For still the gentle Thirty-one 
 
 By frequent falling wears the stone \ 
 
 Just as they please, let punters play, 
 
 The Bank still " wins, its easy way." 
 
 There are, who, when their pocket's full 
 And courage high, disdain the pull, 
 Men who, confiding in their luck, 
 Right at the table run a-muck, 
 
120 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Tilting their heads against that wall 
 Of triple brass, called Capital : 
 Like English Whigs, in contemplation 
 Of beating the Administration. * 
 
 " Now for my favourite Martingale"* 3 
 Cries one, " 'twas never known to fail j 
 " Begin upon the Black, — three coups, 
 " Or four at most, — the Jifth refuse -, 
 " Then on the Red, and never swerve 
 u From this progression. — Now, observe, 
 u The bank is rich, but, ere we sup, 
 " I'll wager that I blow it up." 
 
 He punts, and loses, — ventures on 
 A deeper game, — the money's gone: — 
 
 * L* Administration de Jen. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 121 
 
 Still doubling, u well, the worst is past/' 
 
 He cries, " this luck can never last $ 
 
 a Ten thousand franks/' — Tis covered, — soon 
 
 Up comes his colour, trente-et-un. 
 
 But, as with ravished ears and eyes 
 
 He pounces on the fancied prize, 
 
 Sudden, and spectre-like, appears 
 
 The Apres " with the' accursed sheers/' n 
 
 And, while the boldest punters quake, 
 
 Cuts off just half the mighty stake, 
 
 Which from his heap the ruthless scraper 
 
 Sweeps clean away, both gold and paper. 
 
 Thus, scarcely built, the fabric fails ! 
 
 And such are favourite martingales ! 
 
 On others let us draw the curtain, 
 
 They're quite as clever — and as certain. 
 
12$ ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Well, — if folks sacrifice in France 
 To any deity, 'tis Chance. 
 The young and old, the grave and gay, 
 All are her votaries, — all must play 5 
 In them, 'tis no caprice or fashion, 
 But a resistless rage and passion. 
 Not, as with us, the Goddess dwells 
 In dark retreats and murky cells, 
 Above in clubs, below in hells, 
 But from a hundred shrines looks down 
 In triumph on her subject-town. 
 Through lanes and streets where'er you ramble 
 Or rest in Paris, you may gamble 5 
 May risk, uncensured, what you choose, 
 Ten thousand franks, or forty sous. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 123 
 
 And as the State looks on,, and backs 
 The licensed mischief with a tax, 
 What wonder if the magnet draws, 
 When manners thus combine with laws 
 To lend fresh vigour to its action. 
 And aggravate its strong attraction ? 
 
 Play has been always a temptation 
 In every climate, age, and nation. 
 Our neighbours scorn to live without it ; 
 But then they never cant about it 5 
 Nor vow their indignation rises 
 In thinking of our blanks and prizes 5 
 
 Nor read us lectures, nor condemn 
 
 In us, the faults we share with them -, 
 
 While we, so moral and demure, 
 
 So overnice, so overpure, 
 
1*24 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Who, with uplifted eyes and hands, 
 
 Deplore the sins of foreign lands, > 
 
 And thus relentlessly make war 
 
 On Creps, Roulette, and Rouge-et-noir t 
 
 Deem it humane, and just, and wise, 
 
 To raise a tax on Lotteries ! 
 
 " Cards ! how atrocious ! — dice ! how wicked ! 
 
 " But go, my friend, and buy a ticket. 
 
 " French gamblers all are malefactors 5 
 
 " Ours only innocent contractors, 
 
 " Who puff, 'tis true, but, like the quacks, 
 
 " In puffing pay another tax. 
 
 " Morals are quite a treasure, when you 
 
 <c Don't touch a greater — the Revenue; 
 
 " Frauds will exist, in vain we cramp 'em 5 
 
 " But for their instruments — we stamp 'em. 
 
ADVTCE TO JULIA. 125 
 
 " Since roguery cannot be kept under, 
 
 " 'Tis statesman-like to share the plunder, 
 
 " And thus, extracting good from evil, 
 
 " Compound with God, and cheat the Devil." 
 
 Such thy morality, Vansittart, 
 
 Thou, who the pupil of great Pitt art! 
 
 O ! that there might, in England, be 
 A duty on Hypocrisy ! 
 A tax on humbug, an excise 
 On solemn plausibilities ! 
 No income-tax, if these were granted, 
 Need be endured, or could be wanted -, 
 Nay — Van, with an o'erflowing chest, 
 Might soon abolish all the rest ! 
 
126 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 But now returns (methinks 'tis time, 
 Julia) to home and you my rhyme. — 
 I freely give up this excursion, 
 Paris and France, to your aversion ; 
 And would not answer for the risk, 
 Were Charles indulged in such a frisk. 
 But why, with all the season's fun done, 
 Why will you keep him still in London ? 
 Fashion, you know, prescribes the minute 
 When to be out of it, and in it. 
 She waves her wand, and woe betide 
 The lingering few, unless they hide, 
 Or swear they're passing through, to go 
 To Norfolk in an hour or so, 
 Meaning, next month, to show their faces, 
 If possible, in twenty places. •— — 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA- l c 27 
 
 " Parties so pleasant, friends so pressing, 
 
 u Else such long journies are distressing ; 
 
 ie Bad innsy — and then the roads, — a bore 
 
 " Unless you € sit behind the four.'* 
 
 " But Tom's worth visiting, he gives 
 
 *' Such shooting, and how well he lives! 
 
 " We're off — fine sport, — the weather mild, 
 
 " Birds plentiful, though rather wild 3 
 
 " Acres of turnips, miles of sand, 
 
 " Few poachers, and a great command. 
 
 " You know that favourite pheasant -cover, — 
 
 " No touching it, till we come over. 
 
 <c Can't stay a moment — hope that you 
 
 " Are asked to join the next battu. 
 
 " The chaise is at the door — adieu !" 
 
 I 
 
 In plain English, "unless you travel with four horses.'* 
 
128 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Such jargon are you doomed to hear — 
 By wholesale, every closing year, 
 Dealt in by those who, uninvited, 
 Fear you should think them cut, or slighted -, 
 Who neither taste, nor hear, nor see, 
 But at the nod of Vanity 5 
 Squaring by other people's notions 
 And habits, all their thoughts and motions 5 
 All ruled by what the world will say — 
 That Mrs. Grundy of the Play.* 
 
 Thus he whom Norfolk Squires are courting 
 Has, ten to one, no turn for sporting. 
 
 • See the Comedy of " Speed the Plough.** 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 129 
 
 His best preserve, his favourite range is 
 Between the park and Mrs. Grange's. 
 He loathes a field, likes London better 
 Than double barrelled gun, or setter -, 
 And would not, if he dared, be seen 
 Beyond Kew bridge, or Turnham Green. 
 
 London ! thou comprehensive word, 
 What joy thy streets and squares afford ! 
 And think not thy admirer rallies, 
 If he should add thy lanes and alleys ! 
 Thy independence let me share, 
 Though clogged with smoke and foggy air $ 
 Though I'm obliged my doors to make fast, 
 Though I can get no cream for breakfast 5 
 
 K 
 
130 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Though knaves, within thee, cheat and plunder, 
 
 And fires can scarcely be kept under ; 
 
 Though quite enough of force and fraud, 
 
 By Bow and Marlborough-street unawed, 
 
 At home besets us, and abroad ; 
 
 And many a rook finds many a pigeon 
 
 In law, and physic, and religion, 
 
 Eager to help a thriving trade on, 
 
 And proud and happy to be preyed on. 
 
 What signify such paltry blots ? 
 
 The glorious sun himself has spots. 
 
 In London, blest with competence, 
 With temper, health, and common sense, 
 None need repine or murmur, — nay, 
 All may be happy, in their way. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA, 131 
 
 Ev'n the lone dwellings of the poor 
 And suffering are, at least, obscure $ 
 And, in obscurity, exempt 
 From poverty's worst scourge, contempt. 
 Unmarked the poor man seeks his den, 
 Unheeded issues forth again. 
 Wherefore appears he } None inquires, 
 Nor why nor whither he retires 3 
 All that his pride would fain conceal, 
 All that Shame blushes to reveal, 
 The petty shifts, the grovelling cares 
 To which the sons of Want are heirs, 
 Those ills, which, grievous to be borne, 
 Call forth — not sympathy but scorn, 
 Here hidd'n, elude the searching eye 
 Of callous Curiosity. 
 
 k2 
 
132 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 And what though Poverty environ 
 Full many a wretch with chains of iron ? 
 Do these in stricter bondage hold 
 Their slaves than manacles of gold ? 
 The costliest fetters are as strong 
 As common ones, and last as long. 
 Whom gall they most } — 'Tis doubtful which, 
 The very poor, or very rich $ 
 Those scourged with wants and discontents, 
 Or these, with their establishments ; 
 Victims, from real evils free, 
 To nerves, cut bono ? and ennui. 
 Don't fancy now that this " cui bono" 
 Has some strange meaning, Julia. No, no. 
 Start not, my dear, nor blush, nor smile. 
 The words but ask — Is Life worth while ? 
 
 I 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA, 133 
 
 Still, ghastly is thy spectre-face, 
 O Poverty ! in every place . 
 But he whose lips have never quaffed 
 From thy lean hands the bitter draught, 
 Here may defy or follow fashion, 
 And each indulge his taste or passion, 
 Pursue his pleasures or his labours, 
 Aloof from Squires, un watched by neighbours. 
 
 London, within thy ample verge 
 What crowds lie sheltered, or emerge 
 Buoyant in every shape and form, 
 As smiles the calm, or raves the storm ! 
 Well may they bless the prosperous gale, if, 
 Unwrecked on constable or bailiff, 
 
134 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 They reach the harbour fair and free 
 
 Of golden Mediocrity. 
 
 For though to rail or laugh at money 
 
 Is over- dull, or over-funny, 
 
 (Since who would ridicule employment, 
 
 Or cry down power, or quiz enjoyment) , 
 
 Yet, surely, London's to a tittle 
 
 The place for those who have but little. 
 
 Here I endure no throbs, no twitches 
 Of envy at a neighbour's riches, 
 But, smiling, from my window see 
 A dozen quite as rich as he $ 
 Or, if I stroll, am sure to meet 
 A dozen more in every street, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA* 135 
 
 Who like tall ships, at home, appear ; 
 
 But dwindle into cock-boats here. 
 
 None are distinguished, none are rare 
 
 From wealth which hundreds round them share, 
 
 But (neutralized by one another 
 
 Whene'er they think to raise a pother) 
 
 Be they kind-hearted, or capricious, 
 
 Vain, prodigal, or avaricious, 
 
 Proud, popular, or what they will, 
 
 Are elbowed by their rivals still. 
 
 Should one among them dare be dull, 
 Or prose, because his pocket's full 5 
 Should he, in breach of all decorum, 
 Make the least mention of the Quorum 5 
 
136 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Talk of those desperate vile encroachers 
 On rural privilege — the poachers -, 
 Or drop a hint of what transgressions 
 Are punished at the Quarter-sessions -, 
 Soon would a general yawn or cough 
 From such a trespass warn him off, 
 Spite of his India bonds, and rents, 
 His acres, and his three per cents* 
 None would endure such parish-prate, 
 Were half the island his estate 5 
 Though he in ready cash were sharing 
 The wealth, without the sense, of Baring. 
 
 A village is a hive of glass. 
 There nothing unobserved can pass. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 137 
 
 There all may study, at their ease. 
 
 The forms and motions of the bees ; 
 
 What wax or honey each brings home 
 
 To swell the treasures of the comb, 
 
 Upon his loaded thighs and wings, 
 
 And which are drones, and which have stings $ 
 
 (Stings, in the hive, and wax, and honey, 
 
 Are, in the village, power and money) 
 
 Whether in consequence is higher 
 
 The Rector, or the neighbouring Squire, 
 
 Or he, the' Attorney of the place, 
 
 With knocker brazen as his face. 
 
 But count the motes or specks who can 
 On this, our great Leviathan ! 
 
138 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Or note, with curious pencil; down 
 
 The motions of this Monster-town ! 
 
 Weak is the voice of Slander here $ 
 
 Not half her venom taints the ear. 
 
 None feel the fulness of her power, 
 
 " Her iron scourge, or torturing hour $" 
 
 And yet, so general is the scrape, 
 
 Few from her malice quite escape 3 
 
 All, in a common fate confounded, 
 
 Are slightly scratched, none deeply wounded. 
 
 Such is The Town. — Act right or wrong, 
 
 None will abuse or praise you long. 
 
 Short moments you enjoy or bear 5 
 
 And those once past, you've had your share. 
 
 The idlest babbler can't afford 
 To treat you with another word ; 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 139 
 
 The jest has lost its sting, the tale 
 Grows, in its very utterance, stale ; 
 Trifling, important, many, few, 
 All, to be talked of, must be new. 
 
 Here stands proclaimed a general mart. 
 Traffic who will. Here science, art, 
 Wit, learning, courage, genius, sense, 
 And every kind of excellence 
 In the thronged lists of wealth and fame, 
 Contend for fortune, or a name j 
 And, as Fate favors them or crosses, 
 Are busied in their gains or losses. 
 Grant that, from feebleness of will, 
 From indolence, or want of skill, 
 
140 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Not venturing on a game so high, 
 You view it as a stander-bvj 
 A risk so great, so large a stake, 
 Would keep the heaviest eyes awake. 
 
 But London binds me by a new tie. 
 Mark how the streets are paved with beauty ! 
 With what defiance in their eye 
 These tyrants of the sex pass by ! 
 Shine but the sun, they swarm uncounted, 
 On foot, in carriages, or mounted $ 
 Or, smiling, people the balconies 
 Near which stands many a smart Adonis, 
 Up-gazing at some fair Amanda 
 Who gently paces the veranda, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 141 
 
 And, like a nymph among the flowers 
 That blossom in enchanted bowers, 
 Seems with her fairy foot to set 
 The stock, sweet-pea, and mignonette, 
 Whose mingled Covent-garden sweets 
 Fling fragrance o'er the watered streets. 
 
 Look round, inconstant Man ! whate'er 
 Your shifting taste, — for brown, or fair 5 
 Whether, allured by thin or plump, 
 You like a may-pole or a dump, 
 Look but around — secure to find 
 The very creature to your mind. 
 Who, with a turn for eyes and shapes, 
 From such variety escapes ? 
 
142 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 In vain he lifts in his defence 
 Thy leaden shield, Indifference $ 
 A thousand arrows, if he stirs, 
 Stick in his skirts, like Gulliver's, 
 Aimed from above, below, around, 
 And, though at random, sure to wound. 
 But, since inflicted oft in sport, all 
 These wounds are luckily not mortal ; 
 While every single smile or frown 
 Is deadly in a country town 
 Or village. — There the feeblest dart 
 Strikes to and rankles in the heart ! 
 
 But Autumn comes. — The die is cast 5 
 And London must be left at last. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 143 
 
 What endless shifts, what lame excuses 
 Each "longing, lingering look" produces ; 
 Till we are driven, perforce, away.. 
 Loth to depart, ashamed to stay ! 
 Yet Fate our nerves, in mercy, spares \ 
 And seldom takes us unawares. 
 The' unwelcome news by many a token 
 To practised eyes and ears is broken ; 
 Ne'er does that mournful hour draw nigh 
 Unmarked by many a prodigy. 
 
 Through silent and deserted streets 
 No kindred form the lounger meets $ 
 No curricle nor chariot wears 
 The pavement of the western squares 5 
 
144 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 But hackney-coachmen fold their hands, 
 
 And sleep, despairing, on their stands 5 
 
 Or, roused, make signs with whip and fingers 
 
 To tempt the bashful fare, who lingers 
 
 Doubtful to mount or not, and staring 
 
 At houses painting and repairing. 
 
 You mark no fresh-caught rustic dodging 
 
 Now here, now there, to find a lodging, 
 
 Indifferent to what rent he's liable, 
 
 So that the street is C( undeniable" 
 
 Or vainly tugging at the bells 
 
 Of twenty over-crammed hotels. 
 
 Shot from yon Heavenly Bow, at White's, ^ 
 No critic-arrow now alights 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 145 
 
 On some unconscious passer-by, 
 Whose cape's an inch too low or high ; 
 Whose doctrines are unsound in hat, 
 In boots, or trowsers, or cravat ; 
 On him who braves the shame and guilt 
 Of gig or Tilbury ill-built ; 
 Sports a barouche with pannels darker 
 Than the last shade turned out by Barker, 
 Or canters, with an awkward seat 
 And badly mounted, up the street, 
 No laugh confounds the luckless girl 
 Whose stubborn hair disdains to curl, 
 Who. large in foot, and long in waist, 
 Shows want of blood, as well as taste : 
 Silenced awhile that dreadful battery 
 Whence never issued sound of flattery $ 
 
146 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 That whole artillery of jokes, 
 
 Levelled point-blank at humdrum folks -, 
 
 Who now, no longer kept in awe 
 
 By Fashion's judges, or her law, 
 
 Close by The Window, at their ease, 
 
 Strut, with what looks and clothes they please, 
 
 No longer, from the footman's thumb 
 And finger, peals of thunder come. 
 Closed are the doors, the knockers dumb. 
 No cards, in broad-cast sown about, 
 Alarm us with a red-hot rout 5 
 Nor, in a rainy blustering night, 
 (The London-Coach-makers' delight) 
 Comes on the startled ear, from far, 
 The hubbub of domestic war 
 
 } 
 
i 
 
 ADVICE TO JULIA. 14/ 
 
 In yonder Square, where half the town 
 Are taking up, and setting down, 
 In breathless haste, amidst the din 
 Of drunken coachmen cutting in. 
 Hushed is the sound of swearing, lashing, 
 Of tangled wheels together clashing, 
 Of glasses shivering, pannels crashing, 
 As thus they try their rival forces 
 In whips, and carriages, and horses. 
 What though their mistresses should fret, 
 Be frightened, trampled on, or wet } 
 How, but by prancing in the mud, 
 Can pampered cattle show their blood ? 
 Honor's at stake; — and what is comfort, 
 Safety, or health, or any sum for't ? 
 
 l2 
 
148 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 The bills, 'tis true, to those up-stairs, 
 Are somewhat heavy y for repairs 5 
 But courage, coachmen ! Such disasters 
 Are not your business, but your masters*. 
 
 Now many a pleasant hungry sinner 
 Finds tapering off the' accustomed dinner, 
 And reads no more, on pasteboard nicely 
 Ranged o'er his chimney, ee Eight precisely." 
 No crow-quill notes with corners three, 
 Littered about for friends to see, 
 Coax him to tete-h-tetes \ and tea. 
 Ungreeted, at his morning station, 
 Ev'n by a verbal invitation, 
 Yet lingering till the chaise is gone 
 Which holds the last Amphitryon, 
 
 } 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 149 
 
 Late and alone he dines at Brooks's ; 
 Tries what a news-paper or book says, 
 Till half past ten ; and then, poor man, 
 Gets through the evening as he can. 
 
 ' Tis Augusts Rays of fiercer heat 
 Full on the scorching pavement beat. 
 As o'er it the faint breeze, by fits 
 Alternate, blows and intermits. 
 For short-lived green, a russet brown 
 Stains every withering shrub in town. 
 Darkening the air, in clouds arise 
 Th' Egyptian plagues of dust and flies j 
 And wasps, those foragers voracious, 
 Buzz through the shops, in swarms audacious. 
 
150 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 At rest, in motion — forced to roam 
 Abroad,, or to remain at home, 
 Nature proclaims one common lot 
 For all conditions — ' Be ye hot 1 ? 
 Day is intolerable — Night 
 As close and suffocating quite ; 
 And still the Mercury mounts higher, 
 Till London seems again on fire. 
 
 Now is the time, ye flush of money, 
 To vest it in an eight-oared Funny ; 
 Or man some stately barge, and in it 
 Embark the " Cynthia of the minute $" 
 To quit old scores by land, and give her 
 A day's amusement on the River. 
 
ADVICE TO JULiA. 151 
 
 Tis her's to name the party ; they 
 Have but one duty— to obey. 
 For, when aloft the Dog-star flames, 
 So hot a press is on the Thames, 
 Protections are so disregarded, 
 That none escape, unless they are dead. 
 As, in the Isles between the tropics, 
 (How similes set off one's topics !) 
 Whether the influence of the sun, 
 Or softer feelings urge them on, 
 Land-crabs, at certain times, agree 
 To quit the mountains for the sea, 
 So these in shoals push off from town : 
 And, as the tide runs up or down, 
 A little late perhaps, embark 
 For Richmond-hill or Greenwich-park. 
 
152 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Some shoot the bridge, and downward trip 
 
 Among the shipping, to the Ship ; 
 
 Some seek a less encumbered quarter, 
 
 The Castle, or the Star and Garter. 
 
 Both have their prospects, various, gay 
 
 And striking, in a different way : 
 
 Here woods — there masts — in these, employment 
 
 Seems uppermost, in those, enjoyment. 
 
 Here is the busy East expressed, 
 
 There, all the luxury of the TV est ; 
 
 But Ships or Castles, Parks or Hills, 
 
 Small is the difference — in their bills. 
 
 Admire the views, ye funnies, barges, 
 
 And boats — but tremble at the charges. 
 
 See, how beneath the cloudless beams 
 Of a hot sun the River steams ! 
 
! 
 
 ADVICE TO JULIA. 153 
 
 The breeze is hushed $ a dazzling glare, 
 Shot from the water, fires the air. 
 And since, alas ! in sultry weather 
 Few are the amateurs who feather 
 And pull, like watermen, together, 
 
 Long ere the destined voyage is ended, 
 Full many a dashing oar 's suspended, 
 Till, checked awhile, beneath the awning 
 Breaks out, at length, a general yawning 5 
 As melting in cf day's garish eye/' 
 Becalmed and motionless they lie. 
 Or worse befalls. For oft a raw gust 
 Broods o'er the burning brow of August, 
 And "hushed, expects" throughout the day, 
 (< In grim repose its evening prey." 
 
154 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Bursting at last, a sudden squall 
 Drenches the ladies near Black- wall , 
 Or the vext waters make a breach 
 Clean over them in Chelsea-reach. 
 
 How in this moment will they hate 
 The very mention of White-Bait, 
 And every over-rated dish 
 Of pond, and sea, and river-fish ! 
 How long for home and London-smoke, 
 And loathe the Ship and Artichoke ! 
 For, fair ones, what are woods and hills, 
 Music and feasts, to damps and chills ? 
 What, if you can't contrive to parry 
 The dose-ing, sleek apothecary ? 
 
ADVICE TO JULTA, 155 
 
 If, jaded ere you land and sup, 
 
 Next morning you are all laid up, 
 
 Burning whole days and nights, or freezing $ 
 
 And coughing for whole months, or sneezing ? 
 
 Sometimes (the chance is rare indeed) 
 I own these parties may succeed, 
 When wind, and tide, and settled weather. 
 Club all their influence together 5 
 When Beauty like the day is bright, 
 And spirits as the breeze are light 5 
 When through alternate ebbs and flows 
 Briskly the barge or wherry goes -, 
 And the gay landscape's glittering pride 
 Shines on its course on either side. 
 
156 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 What then ? The River and its banks 
 For one such prize yield twenty blanks. 
 
 Now many a city-wife and daughter 
 Feels that the dipping rage has caught her. 
 Scarce can they rest upon their pillows, 
 For musing on machines and billows ; 
 Or, should they slumber, 'tis to dream 
 All night of Margate and of Steam 5 
 Of Steam , which, stronger than a giant, 
 Duly invoked , is more compliant. 
 At half past eight, propitious hour, 
 He 's at their service, at the Tower. 
 Embarked, they catch the sound, and feel 
 The thumping motion of his wheel. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 157 
 
 Lashed into foam by ceaseless strokes, 
 
 The river roars, the funnel smokes. 
 
 As onward, like an arrow, shoots 
 
 The Giant, with his seven-league boots -, 
 
 Spite of their crowded sails, outstripping 
 
 With ease the speed of all the shipping 
 
 Through every reach — mast following mast 
 
 Descried, approached, o'ertaken, passed. 
 
 Look where you will, you find no traces 
 
 Of qualm-anticipating faces 
 
 From shifting helm or taught lee-braces, 
 
 Ills with which fate the bliss alloys, 
 
 Else perfect, of the Margate-hoys. 
 
 No calm, so dead that nothing stirs, 
 
 Baffles the sea-sick passengers. 
 
 i 
 
158 ADVICE TO JULIA, 
 
 With ecstasy no tongue can utter, 
 
 They take to tea and bread and butter. 
 
 On the smooth deck some stretch their legs, 
 
 Some feast below on toast and eggs, 
 
 As, cheered by clarinet and song, 
 
 Ten knots an hour, they spank along, 
 
 (Sure at their destined post to sup, 
 
 Unless, perchance, they're all blown up) 
 
 By Graves-end, South-end, through the Nore, 
 
 Till the boat lands them all at four, 
 
 Exulting, on the Margate shore ! 
 
 These Kent delights — while others post 
 As nimbly to the Sussex-coast, 
 Eager to tread the turf that crowns 
 The swelling surface of the downs. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 159 
 
 Starting each hour, ere day begins 
 Till evening falls, from twenty inns, 
 Inside and out, a clustering load, 
 They spin along the level road 3 
 That road which, oft curtailed, is passed 
 Each year more quickly than the last. 
 What crowds from every coach alight on 
 The russet Steyne, and beach of Brighton ! 
 To view from its parades and cliffs 
 Gulls, bathers, fishermen, and skiffs ; 
 To pay for appetite and air 
 The price of heat, and dust, and glare -, 
 To watch, by day, the surf in motion 
 Unwearied, from the boisterous ocean 5 
 And, ancle-deep in burning shingles, 
 Sigh for green fields and shady dingles ! 
 
160 ADVICE TO JtJLIA. 
 
 Or pace along the shore, remarking 
 
 A shoal of passengers embarking 
 
 (Well if they don't repent the step) 
 
 To join the packet for Dieppe, 
 
 Looking as grave as undertakers, 
 
 (Their boat half swamped among the breakers) 
 
 Some sick, all terrified, in crossing 
 
 To where the distant bark lies tossing j 
 
 To note, by night, with magnanimity 
 
 The fluttering of unlined dimity, 
 
 As through the room the curtains sail, 
 
 Obedient to the western gale, 
 
 While the rain trickles through the roof, 
 
 And scarce a pane is water-proof) 
 
 To feel how time and use disables, 
 
 Through years of letting, chairs and tables $ 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 161 
 
 Or trace the moon-beams on the foam, 
 And muse on comforts left at home ! 
 
 Now heavy cost and profits small 
 Have closed the gardens of Vauxhall. 
 No more their blue and brilliant lights 
 Mount through the air, on Gala-nights ; 
 No voice is heard, amidst the rockets 
 And Roman candles — (i Mind your pockets." 
 No crowds across the bridges hurry 
 To weep at Melodrames in Surrey, 
 Whither they flocked, in merrier times, 
 To split their sides at Pantomimes. 
 But wherefore name such low amusement 
 For vulgar cits alone, or Jews meant, 
 
 M 
 
162 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 When ev'n assemblies are a bore, 
 And Matthews is at home no more ! 
 
 Now through her woods The Country calls, 
 And echoes talk, along her halls, 
 Of many a kitchen blazing hot, 
 Of many a cellar cool as grot -, 
 Each with its rich abundance stored, 
 To crown the hospitable board, 
 There social ease, and welcome warm, 
 How ill exchanged for state and form ! 
 Give freedom to each happy guest 
 Never tormented, never pressed 
 Except — to do what suits him best. 
 
 Now cloudless skies their heat redouble j 
 The u Swart Star" rages o'er the stubble. 
 
 \ 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 16*3 
 
 Now, half dried up, the river shrinks, 
 
 And the parched common yawns in chinks ; 
 
 Dogs in the fancied chase grow hot/ 5 
 
 And birds impatient to be shot. 
 
 These signs, and more — but 'twould encumber 
 
 My verse to reckon up their number, 
 
 The earth in short, the air, the sun, 
 
 Proclaim The Capital undone. 
 
 Julia, forgive me this digression, 
 And summon all your self-possession 
 To listen to a truth, unnettled, 
 By every day's experience settled : 
 That absence, if not over -long 
 And frequent, can do love no wrong ; 
 
 u 2 
 
164 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 That to the nymph for whom he burns 
 With fresh delight the swain returns, 
 
 After a trifling separation. 
 
 Thus, for example, the Vacation, 
 Beckoning to rural leisure down 
 Lawyers and lovers too from town, 
 By well-timed absence both recruits, 
 And fits them for their several suits. 
 That past, the chase, again renewed, 
 With double ardour is pursued. 
 
 Give ear to my prophetic rhyme, 
 Unthinking girl — and, warned in time, 
 Deem not the well-meant hint officious, 
 That we he-creatures are capricious \ 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 165 
 
 That when your charms have ceased to blind us, 
 
 Nor prayers can move, nor oaths can bind us. 
 
 The fairest nymphs that ever flirted 
 
 Have by their shepherds been deserted. 
 
 See, in their mid-career, the comely 
 
 Supplanted by the coarse and homely 3 
 
 The fond, the generous, and the true, 
 
 Yield to the heartless and the new ! 
 
 Some with less feeling or remorse 
 
 Will change their mistress than their horse -> 
 
 Destined, when all their swops are past, 
 
 To get some sorry jade at last 
 
 Let but a single spot begin 
 To stain the brightness of the skin * 
 
166 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Where York and Lancaster combine 
 Their roses in those cheeks of thine \ 
 Let him detect a second wrinkle ; 
 Hell send you packing in a twinkle, 
 And seek another in your room 
 Of smoother grain, and fresher bloom. 
 From eyes once dimmed, unheeded flow 
 The bitter tears of fruitless woe ; 
 The faded bosom Man forsakes, 
 Though the poor heart beneath it breaks. 
 Love dies, as surely as 'tis born, 
 Killed by aversion, slight, or scorn. 
 These are hard deaths. A milder end 
 Cools down a lover to a friend. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 167 
 
 Trust not your beauty nor your youth, 
 Nor learn too late the mournful truth 
 That Woman lost, when Man is sated, 
 Within two points of being hated, 
 Luffs (to the threatening danger blind) 
 In vain so very near the wind. 
 Onward she madly steers, and back, 
 Weathering the land on neither tack. 
 Breakers on every side appear $ 
 No lights displayed, no harbour near. 
 The tempest raves, the billows roar 
 In thunder on the rocky shore ; 
 Her anchors drag, her cables part — 
 Her's is the shipwreck of the heart ! 
 
168 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 But, having seen you in a pet afore, 
 I dread it — so will drop the metaphor, 
 And offer you a wholesome slice 
 Of plain, substantial, good advice. 
 One day (pray take the fact for granted) 
 One day or other, you'll be planted ; * 
 Or if from habit, chance, or whim, 
 He clings to you, you'll break with him. 
 Then where can be the harm, I wonder. 
 Of living now and then asunder ? 
 " How hard to separate !" you cry. 
 Mistaken Julia, do but try. 
 Of this same absence, now, suppose 
 You swallow first a moderate dose 
 
 * Plantee la. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 169 
 
 Three months or so, — then make it stronger, 
 And part for half a year or longer 5 
 Thus you gain courage by degrees, 
 Link after link is snapped with ease, 
 And by one last combined endeavour, 
 Out come the words cc Farewell for ever /" 
 
 To set this new machinery spinning, 
 (Since half the task is in beginning) 
 Open your cage, and let him go j 
 Nay, force him, indolent or no, 
 To visit (when the winter ends 
 With August) all his country friends, 
 'Midst manors, castles, lodges, halls, 
 Where Fashion leads or Fancy calls \ 
 
170 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 And send him, with a lengthened chain, 
 Back to his once-loved sports again. 
 
 Now, through the season (such the fruits 
 Of love like yours) he never shoots $ 
 So that you've lost those welcome presents 
 Of hares and partridges and pheasants, 
 Which, when the holidays drew near, 
 Sent to enrich your Christmas cheer, 
 Oft on the turkeys would encroach 
 That dangled from the Norfolk coach. 
 Say, Julia, was it over-wise 
 To shorten thus your own supplies ? 
 Charles was fair game, — but wherefore spite 
 Thus your own taste and appetite ? 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 171 
 
 Could you resign without regret 
 Such dainties, or the day forget 
 When last he purchased, by a grant on 
 His dipped estate, a gun from Manton 
 (No matter which, they're two, you know, 
 Some fancy John, and others Joe,) 
 That gun of guns, which none but ninnies 
 Could reckon dear at sixty guineas ? 
 Ev'n the least envious spectator 
 Might grudge him such a detonator, 
 Got up with all the new devices 
 Delivered at such moderate prices 
 That some, perhaps too partial, say 
 They are not sold, but given away. 
 Scarce have we thought the stories long, 
 'Midst cooling muffins and Souchong, 
 
172 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Of all the head (he scorned to brag) 
 Brought, by that matchless gun, to bag. 
 O ! why are M anions such as these 
 Just like the annuals one sees 
 At Messrs. Lee and Kennedy's >, 
 Those plants so beautiful and dear 
 That never last a second year ! 
 
 Fain, while the Muse my memory jogs, 
 Fain would I celebrate his dogs 5 
 But how do justice to their breed, 
 Their perfect breaking, nose, and speed ? 
 Too modest am I to aspire 
 Ev'n to a sketch of his attire 5 
 Since ne'er was such a brown and green 
 In gaiters, or in jacket seen. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 173 
 
 Indeed no partridge could do less 
 Than tremble at the shooting-dress 
 In which,, through all the livelong day, 
 Fresh and untired, he blazed away, 
 Scrambling through bush and briar, to trace 
 Haply^ but half another brace ; 
 Till, near the house, one might remark 
 From both his barrels, just at dark, 
 Two short, smart pops, — ill omened sound, 
 Echoed o'er many a turnip-ground, 
 Where coveys fed, in fear and sorrow 
 Prophetic of their fate to-morrow. 
 
 In wood or field, at any game 
 Unerring was his practised aim -, 
 
174 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Whether with many, or with few, 
 
 Beating the tangled thicket through, 
 
 # 
 He braved the perilous battu ; 
 
 Whether he watched where wild ducks spring 
 
 Scared from the lake, and clamouring ; 
 
 Or marked, within some dingle warm, 
 
 The woodcock's solitary form - ? 
 
 Or, in the sedges ancle-deep, 
 
 Grudged not for snipes, whole hours, to creep j 
 
 And seldom missing, as I've heard, 
 
 Snipe, wild-duck, pheasant, cock, or bird, 
 
 He never, (this I don't pretend 
 
 To vouch for) never winged a friend; 
 
 Tempted by vanity to break 
 
 The golden rule of give and take, 
 
 1 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 175 
 
 And risk, to gain a foremost place, 
 The peppering of his neighbour's face. 
 In short he was, as rumour runs, 
 The very Paragon of Guns ! 
 
 Now, the least mention of preserves, 
 Turnips, or stubbles, shakes his nerves ; 
 Now, careless if the noise be louder 
 From gun, or fulminating-powder, 
 Through autumn's heat, and winter's rigour, 
 The recreant never draws a trigger. 
 His game-book 's lost, his pointers stray, 
 And his crack Mantons given away ! 
 
 I question if, another year, 
 You'll let him hunt in Leicestershire ; 
 
176 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Where only, underneath the sun, 
 
 A horse can go, a dog can run. 
 
 Once how he flew, like lightning, down 
 
 To Melton, and then back to town, 
 
 In quick alternate motion tost, 
 
 Like shuttlecock, by thaw and frost ! 
 
 The merest novice in the school 
 
 Of Meynel must obey the rule. 
 
 In vain the scarlet coat he boasts, 
 In vain he hunts — unless he posts. 
 It freezes. — Rattling to the door, 
 Upwhirls his wadded chaise and four. 
 He's in, he's off, — nor marks (so easy 
 The motion) how the roads grow greasy $ 
 How clogged his wheels, how slow they travel 
 Through clinging clay, and grinding gravel ; 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 177 
 
 How drops begin to shower from leaves, 
 
 And icicles to melt on eaves ; 
 
 The country, ere he reaches town, 
 
 Looking, each mile, more soft and brown, 
 
 Till Highgate's arch-wayed hill is past, 
 
 And all beyond is mire at last. 
 
 Mire, — how delightful !■ — in a trice 
 
 He dashes back to meet — the ice. 
 
 Frost, like a bailiff or a constable, 
 
 Cries ' stand !' — and claps him up at Dunstable ; 
 
 Showing, if on he dares to go, 
 
 For writ or staff — the drifted snow. 
 
 There, at the Sugar-Loaf , a guest 
 
 Reluctant under close arrest, 
 
 Confined till larks and patience fail him, 
 
 He waits another thaw to bail him : 
 
178 ADVICE TO JUMA. 
 
 Thus, by arrangements so judicious, 
 (As English seasons are capricious,) 
 The winter through, his chief abode 
 Must be at inns, or on the road > 
 Far from his grooms, and favourite stud, 
 The very quintessence of blood; 
 As distant as the merest stranger 
 From that mysterious rack and manger 
 Where many a hunter, duly fed, 
 Unconsciously eats off his head, 
 Destined at last, as oft befalls, 
 To get it back — at Tattersal's. 
 
 No more the punctual groom shall shake 
 His master till they both awake, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 179 
 
 To listen to the wind and rain 
 
 At su', loud clattering on the pane, 
 
 And envy those who stretch and yawn, 
 
 Careless of bleak December's dawn $ 
 
 Or doze, perchance, some lie inventing 
 
 To shirk this famous day for scenting, 
 
 To get the' inexorable groom, 
 
 And his d — d candle from the room ; 
 
 While gusts more strong, and showers more thick, 
 
 Give him strange thoughts of shamming sick : 
 
 Till, mindful of his former fame, 
 
 He combats drowsiness with shame ; 
 
 Till (resolution gathering strength , 
 
 And Slumber from his limbs at length 
 
 Loosening the chains which bind the lazy) 
 
 He votes the morning only hazy; 
 
 n 2 
 
ISO ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 « Screws," with a steady hand and face, 
 His " courage to the sticking place," 
 And, ere the half-hour's chimes are counted, 
 Is fairly up, equipped, and mounted. 
 
 No more he trots, (like folks who trip 
 Into a boat to join a ship,) 
 Mud-booted, to the ground, on hack ; 
 Nor creeps, on jaded hunter, back 
 Over the heath, along the lane, 
 Guessing and floundering in the rain -, 
 The mile-stone missed, the finger-post 
 Then farthest, when he needs it most -, 
 Haunted, amidst the deepening gloom, 
 By phantoms of that eating-room 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 181 
 
 Where the bright blaze, good cheer and wine 
 
 Might tempt worse appetites to dine -, 
 And musing on what hours may pass 
 Ere his the morsel, or the glass : 
 No brighter prospect to beguile 
 The weary length of many a mile ; 
 
 No spark of all the chase's heat 
 Left in his numbed and dangling feet ; 
 Nor chance of rest, nor hope to sup, 
 Unless the friendly moon gets up, 
 And, faintly struggling through the fog, 
 Hints, just in time, — " Beware the bog /** 
 
 How do benighted sportsmen roam, 
 When, haply, not three fields from home \ 
 
182 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Like Tony's mother, led astray 
 
 By that spoiled urchin in the Play, * 
 
 Who while he takes her, round about, 
 
 Back to the spot whence both set out, 
 
 Still, to alarm the silly woman, 
 
 Talks of ( Squash Lane/ and * Crack-skull Common!' 
 
 Thus in the dark he rode to cover ; 
 Thus from the death, when all was over. 
 For, like a shrimp, a fox-chase fails^ 
 Both have but sorry heads and tails. 
 Talk of their flavour, — 'tis a riddle., 
 Unless you try them in the middle. 
 
 * She Stoops to Conquer. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 183 
 
 But Charles was still unflinching found, 
 If outward, or if homeward bound 3 
 Patient, untired, — and, when he hunted, 
 Careless what dangers he affronted. 
 Then with firm seat, and bosom steeled, 
 He shone the foremost of the field -, 
 All doubting if, in skill and force, 
 He was the cleverer, or his horse. 
 Close to the hounds, the triumph filled 
 His heart with rapture, if they killed $ 
 And if they failed, — why, riding hard, 
 Like Virtue, was its own reward. 
 His was the transport that atones 
 For broken limbs and collar-bones ; 
 His all the energies which urge on 
 Men, in defiance of the surgeon, 
 
184 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Far from their wives and tender pledges, 
 Dashing o'er fences, ditches, hedges, 
 Where none would venture but a fool 
 Or madman, if his blood was cool. 
 
 A Nimrod he, from taste and passion — 
 Unlike the ill-starred slave of Fashion 
 Who hunts, o'er meaner sportsmen crowing, 
 In Leicestershire, because 'tis knowings 
 Because, at Melton, all partakers 
 In hunting should be men of acres, 
 Or flush of money in the Stocks, 
 In order to suppress the fox ; — # 
 
 II faut supprimer les renards. " 
 
 Madame de Stael. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 185 
 
 That secret foe to southern breezes, 
 That inward chuckler when it freezes, 
 When scentless air and hardened soil 
 Save both his credit and his toil ; 
 When, nothing loth, he flies to meet 
 Those loungers in St. James's street, 
 Who break, like him, the Melton tether, 
 Enjoying, while they d — n, the weather. 
 But suddenly, unused to stay 
 Our winter through, the frost gives way. 
 The fatal hour is come — is past $ 
 And., malgre ltd, he goes at last 
 Back to his post, to bear the brunt 
 
 And feign the raptures of the hunt ! 
 
186 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Behold him there, the luckless varlet, 
 In oil-skin hat, in coat of scarlet, 
 Superbly mounted, duly dressed, 
 And looking lively, though distrest ! 
 Think not, of all who there assemble 
 With chattering teeth, and limbs that tremble, 
 (For though they mind not cold a straw, 
 What's half so chilly as a thaw ?) 
 Think not that, with a common aim 
 And garb, their feelings are the same. 
 No, no,— the sport has many a lover 
 As cool as he, at every cover. 
 
 But soon, whate'er they feel or feign, 
 The chaff is winnowed from the grain. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 They find j — hark forward- 1 off they go 
 
 To the mad cry of Tally Ho ! 
 
 Affecting now to urge the speed 
 
 And rouse the courage of his steed, 
 
 What, though he spurs, and plies the lash ?- 
 
 'Tis but to counterfeit a dash, 
 
 And seem not only stout, but rash. 
 
 Soon, by experience dearly bought, 
 
 Soon will the' aspiring Youth be taught 
 
 That valour is a poor possession, 
 
 Without its better half, discretion, 
 
 Warned by the knowing ones to keep 
 Aloof from every useless leap, 
 
 187 
 
188 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 (Since oft, in their unruly bounds, 
 Horses throw off, as well as hounds) 
 To copy those whose practised eye 
 Turns to the well-known gap, hard-by. 
 He learns, in rising at a gate, 
 The value of the hint too late. 
 
 For, awkward where he should be limber, 
 Just as 'tis cleared, he touches timber; 
 Falls, and before he can recover him, 
 Aghast, sees half the field ride over him ; 
 A perfect judge, though bruised to jelly, 
 Of every horse's girth and belly. 
 Thrice he his suppliant arms extends 
 In vain to all his dearest friends 5 
 
ADVTCE TO JULIA. 189 
 
 And lies, perchance, where Fate has spilled him, 
 Till they have run the fox and killed him. 
 
 Julia, you need not coax, or tease, 
 Did Charles resemble one of these, 
 Who care not what their hunters cost 
 To buy or keep, if seldom crost. 
 But he, who holds the chase so dear, 
 Whose breed is thorough Leicestershire, 
 He of the true, the genuine sort, 
 Whose heart and soul are in the sport, 
 Thus unappointed and unhorsed, 
 From stud and kennel thus divorced, 
 At once of pleasure thus debarred 
 And exercise, may think it hard ; 
 
190 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 And, though implicit to a tittle, 
 May possibly demur a little. 
 The only secret to secure 
 Obedience is to keep him poor. 
 None long can scamper, but the rich. 
 In Leicestershire o'er hedge and ditch. 
 Money alone (as sportsmen know 
 Full well, by what they pay — or owe) 
 Makes Melton-mares and horses go. 
 
 But not content (blush, Julia, blush !) 
 To wean him from the fox's brush, 
 From pouches, belts, and barrels double, 
 From covies, covers, woods, and stubble, 
 These mortal injuries to crown, 
 How do you treat your slave in town ! 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 191 
 
 Yes, tyrant, out it all shall come. — 
 Whoever calls, he *s not at home, 
 But, scudding to his chamber runs, 
 As if all visitors were duns -, 
 As if some spectre crossed his eyes, 
 Or men were women in disguise. 
 For hours in vain I knock and ring $ 
 He's always at your apron-string $ 
 Except when, sometimes, unawares 
 I chance to catch him on the stairs, 
 Looking, like animals just tamed, 
 Half sinister, and half ashamed. 
 
 I know (but, faith, the thing's too risible) 
 'Tis by your orders he 's invisible. 
 
192 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Women, we want no ghost to tell us, 
 Have been, and are, and will be jealous ; 
 With a full license thus to vex 
 Themselves, their lovers, and their sex. 
 But when their jealousy extends 
 To frowning on their lover's friends, 
 (Readers, remember, on your lives, 
 Not to apply these hints to wives \ 
 Though, ere the honey- moon has fleeted, 
 Thus many a husband's friends are treated) 
 When women thus delight to sever 
 Men's early sympathies for ever 3 
 By all that binds the heart secured, 
 In childhood nursed, by age matured -, 
 Why call their struggles to remove 
 These landmarks by the name of love ? 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 193 
 
 Such points my judgment may be rash on 3 
 But surely 'tis a selfish passion, 
 Masking beneath a false pretence 
 The boundless thirst of influence. 
 Their long-abused, ill-gotten power, 
 They feel may vanish in an hour, 
 Melted away, like thawing ice, 
 Before a little good advice. 
 
 Julia, my dear, how long, I wonder, 
 Must Charles and I be kept asunder, 
 Lest a friend's precept and example 
 Should teach him on his chains to trample ? 
 Lest, questioned close and tutored well, 
 Your weary subject should rebel ? 
 
194 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Lest your poor servant, one fine morning, 
 Should rise, and give his mistress warning ) 
 
 I war not thus, (dismiss your fears) 
 For Mans resolves 'gainst Woman's tears. 
 Whether you quarrel or agree, 
 Mine is an armed neutrality. 
 'Charles has my full consent to yield, 
 And leave you mistress of the field ; 
 Or, if despair has made him stout, 
 With his fair foe to fight it out. 
 
 But wherefore thus provoke hostilities ? 
 Think, Julia, think how rash and silly 'tis ! 
 My counsel ends as it began. 
 Patch up a treaty, while you can. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 195 
 
 Abate your power,— 'tis overgrown. 
 Unsafe is a despotic throne. 
 Give up departments you can spare, 
 And yield a province here and there- 
 
 Warned by his fate whose stubborn pride 
 
 Clung to an empire stretched too wide ; 
 
 Who, in one stake, to end the game, 
 
 Heaped power, and liberty, and fame ; 
 
 Among the royal punters tost it, 
 
 Cried " Sevens the main,*' threw crabs, and lost it ! 
 
 Be not Napoleons madness thine. 
 Accept the boundary of the Rhine 5 
 Make promises an<J resolutions, 
 And talk at least of constitutions ; 
 
 o <Z 
 
196 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Or soon the angry Fates will frown 
 On Beauty in an iron croivn, 
 And Fortune tarnish every gem 
 That glitters in your diadem 
 
 Ev'n now, my charmer, there's a scrape 
 At hand, not easy to escape. 
 Pray 5 how will you secure your lover 
 Till these elections are blown over ? 
 You know his age, — he 's twenty-one ; 
 And may, though more than half undone, 
 Sit by some friendly Jew's advance, 
 Or slip into a seat by chance : 
 For things which every body dreads 
 Are often thrown at people's heads. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 19? 
 
 'Tis thus that peerages are proffered, 
 
 And ribbons pressed, and mitres offered. 
 
 There's no protection, no defence 
 
 Against this gentle violence. 
 
 Some receive pensions, others places, 
 
 As from the hands of all the Graces. 
 
 c They never had the slightest notion, — 
 
 ' 'Twas all the Minister's own motion ; 
 
 ' They fight, 'tis true, beneath his banner 5 
 
 ■ But — given in such a handsome manner — 
 
 c Never solicited or troubled — 
 
 ' They feel the obligation doubled/ 
 
 Ask not the meaning, or the force 
 
 Of words like these — They're words of course j 
 
 Sounds which, however strange to utter, 
 
 Add relish to men's bread and butter -, 
 
198 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Like lo wings heard in field or wood 
 When sated cattle chew the cud. 
 
 Charles, half asleep, thus gains the stake 
 From hundreds round him wide awake ; 
 Thus, sudden greatness thrust upon him, 
 Ambition wins, as Love has won him. 
 Yet stay, — I've hit upon a plan. 
 Let him escape you, if he can. 
 I saw him act his mother's maid 
 Not badly, at a masquerade 5 
 'Twas quite excusable to err 
 A little in the character 5 
 And folks kept asking, one and all, 
 If females ever grew so tall. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 199 
 
 Some criticised his gait, I'm told, 
 While others thought his eyes too bold ; 
 StilU by the smoothness of his chin, 
 The knowing ones were taken in •> 
 And the best judges in the room 
 Swore his French rouge was real bloom. 
 Then who could guess the secret ? — No man, 
 Were you to dress him like a woman. 
 
 Once (long ago and far away) 
 A boy was thus disguised, they say. 98 
 His age was just fifteen, and his chief 
 Amusement fisty- cuffs and mischief. 
 So, when he asked to change his hoop 
 For a light company or troop, 
 
200 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 They shut him up, aloof, from slaughter, 
 With his old landlord's buxom daughter ; 
 To conjugate, with kindling senses, 
 / love, through all its moods and tenses ; 
 To win her easy heart, and feel 
 His own as tender as the heel 
 In which alone the lying fable 
 Assures us he was vulnerable. 
 Doubtless they trusted, till the scrape 
 Was blazoned in her altered shape, 
 That such a boy would be a shy mate. — 
 But Turkey is so warm a climate ! 
 
 To hasten from this dangerous theme, 
 What think you, Julia, of my scheme ? 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 201 
 
 Charles, what with petticoat, and pin, 
 
 Tucker, and cap, must stay within. 
 
 Safe, till it suits you to unfrock him, 
 
 Up in your boudoir you may lock him. 
 
 Else, in his rambles, he might meet 
 
 Some bustling agent in the street $ ^ 
 
 Some lordly patron there might woo him, 
 
 Some jobber take a fancy to him 5 
 
 As, though he'll seldom strain his throat 
 
 In making speeches, he can vote, 
 
 Down comes the writ — they meet — they choose him— 
 
 He takes to business — and you lose him. 
 
 And now, with no design to quiz, 
 I'll tell you what this business is, 
 
20^ ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 This mute, inglorious toil and pain 
 That wears the body, not the brain.— 
 Much more in many cases, — here 
 Much less is meant than meets the ear. 
 Just listen, and you'll find a knack 'tis 
 Soon mastered by a little practice. 
 
 To calculate, with due precision, 
 The moment of the next division ; 
 The art in proper time to cough \ 
 The mysteries of pairing off -, 
 When to be mute, and when to cheer 
 A modest member with a Ci Hear 5" 
 The secret, ere debates begin, 
 Of whipping out — and whipping in 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. W3 
 
 From Bellamy's, with checked digestion, 
 Just as the Speaker puts the question ; 
 Such, Julia, are the hard conditions 
 Imposed on sucking politicians ! 
 
 But Charles must sacrifice his ease 
 Sometimes, to heavier tasks than these. 
 Perchance, to settle who shall sit, he 
 Is tethered to some dull committee, 
 Where learned lawyers, having wrangled 
 For months, leave matters more entangled, 
 Joy to the candidates who pay 
 From ebbing purses, day by day, 
 Hundreds for every fresh objection 
 Which leads them to a void election 1 
 
204 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Or, at the opening of the session, 
 
 (Uniting courage with discretion) 
 
 Must strive his faltering tongue to teach 
 
 The echo of a royal speech, 
 
 In which the mover and the seconder 
 
 Too oft, alas ! though clever reckon'd, err -, 
 
 Or, when he meditates some far jaunt, 
 
 Is taken captive by the Serjeant, 
 
 From whose firm grasp no custodee 
 
 E'er yet escaped — without a fee -, 
 
 Or posts, from some far-distant hall 
 
 Up, through ten counties, to a Call ; 
 
 Or hurrying down at four (how pleasant !) 
 
 Sees, in dismay, not forty present, 
 
 Yet lingers, till, to end his doubt, 
 
 The punctual Speaker counts them out -, 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 205 
 
 Or, fumbling at the door, is shocked 
 To find it mercilessly locked -, 
 Or, when the weather warmer waxes, 
 Must help Vansittart through his taxes, 
 And, threatening those who heavy think 'em 
 With the laid ghost of that on Income, 
 Cry " question ! " when the strongest side 
 To conquer — has but to divide. - 
 
 What, though thy floor, St. Stephen, yield 
 To gifted minds a glorious field ; 
 Though rich the prize of those who aim 
 Within thy walls at power and fame, 
 And, through the struggles of debate, 
 Rule, or aspire to rule the State ; 
 
206 ADVICE TO JULIA, 
 
 Yet who in mere routine would waste 
 One grain of knowledge, sense, or taste ? 
 Who, through a tedious session, bear 
 To slumber in the tainted air 
 Of crowded benches, glad to make 
 His dinner on a tough beef-steak $ 
 Or (summoned by a Treasury-note) 
 Night after night to sit and vote, 
 A mere machine., with no dominion 
 Over his seat or his opinion ; 
 Only to frank an ounce, and see 
 On all his letters' backs M. P. ! 
 
 Who would, as day begins to peep, 
 (The house half hungry, half asleep) 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 207 
 
 With many a yawn and inward curse,, 
 
 Hear a bad speech — or make a worse ? 
 
 Who from his party, like a rat, run, 
 
 To humour some capricious patron, 
 
 Or trimming father, whom his son dreads ; 
 
 When he might take the Chiltern Hundreds, 
 
 And in a trice resign his seat ? 
 
 But that the terror of the Fleet, 
 
 Or King's Bench prison, from whose bourne 
 
 Tis not so easy to return, 
 
 Urges the slave, with puzzled will, 
 
 To bear a heavier bondage still. 
 
 Folks rise and flourish and are undone 
 No where so quickly as in London. 
 
208 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Sudden they mount — like meteors glare- 
 Then, bursting, vanish into air $ 
 And none but conjurors can know 
 Or whence they come, or where they go. 
 So Charles, by folly or by fate 
 Fall'n from his high and palmy state, 
 By thus indulging all his senses 
 And yours, my dear, in all expenses ; 
 (Lavish in eating, drinking, clothing -, 
 Grudging himself and Julia nothing) 
 By dint of cost 'twere vain to guess 
 In that grand article, your dress j 
 Your bracelets, necklaces, and rings, 
 And twenty more superfluous things * 
 
 * " Ce superflu, si necessaire." 
 
 Voltaire. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 209 
 
 So necessary, that they must, 
 When money fails, be had on trust ; 
 Your cottage, and your town-abode, 
 (North, to be sure, of Oxford Road) 
 Your suppers, diamonds, Opera-box, 
 And your snug income in the Stocks,— 
 Has managed, God knows how, to get 
 Of late a little into debt. 
 
 But what is mortgage, bill, or bond, 
 For one so beautiful and fond ? 
 How small a sacrifice for you it is 
 That the long list of his annuities 
 Encumbers with a lasting stain 
 Half the black honk in Chancery-Lane 5 
 
210 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 That here a stop-gap, there a hedge, 
 Has left him nothing now to pledge \ 
 These are all trifles light as air, 
 But, thoughtless Julia, have a care \ 
 Reflect how oft from little things 
 Some great unlooked for mischief springs. 
 At last, impoverished, threatened, harassed, 
 By Jews denied, by duns embarrassed, 
 No underwriter now to do him, 
 No Square-toes left to listen to him 5 
 He may, when all resources fail, 
 Prefer — a patron to a jail! 3 ° 
 
 Methinks I see the tempters watch him 
 Thus hampered, till at length they catch him 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 2 LI 
 
 Pondering (as his is not the best head) 
 Whether to frank, or be arrested $ 
 Whether with creditors to grapple, 
 Or brave them in St. Stephen's chapel. 
 This is the moment — they intreat, 
 Implore him to accept a seat 5 
 Or (as their boroughs are implicit, 
 And scarce expect their member's visit) 
 Without ev'n asking his consent, 
 Return him into Parliament. 
 
 But, Julia, here, methinks, I'd better 
 Close this unconscionable letter 5 
 One that perhaps, though well intended, 
 Should twenty sheets ago have ended. 
 
 p 2 
 
<212 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 So use your privilege — of dipping 
 Now here, now there — of sometimes skipping -, 
 And if you feel your eyelids dropping 
 O'er lines unreadable, — of stopping. 
 Remember too, should spite and rage 
 Beset you more at every page, 
 There's fuel in these passive quires 
 Enough to light a dozen fires. 
 
 Ten ounces ! — bless me ! why 'twill cost 
 A fortune by the General post, 
 Unless I send a note to thank 
 My neighbour for an office-frank. 
 Or stay, — 'twould hurt your feelings less 
 Perhaps, if trusted to the Press, 
 Under a plausible address ; 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 213 
 
 And Julia is (to pose the Many) 
 
 As good a nom de guerre as any. 
 
 Some folks receive the broadest hint 
 
 Without offence, if given in prints 
 
 And these by good advice may profit, 
 
 Though you, perhaps, think little of it. 
 
 When printed, far from being thrown 
 
 Away on you, my dear, alone. 
 
 Like scattered shot, the self-same words 
 
 May chance to hit a dozen birds. 
 
 Thus, many ruby-lipped and star-eyed ones, 
 
 Not only mistresses, but married ones, 
 
 Without a blush, may bear the blam e 
 
 Of Julia's faults, in Julia's name. 
 
214 ADVICE TO JULIA, 
 
 For wherefore those alone reprove 
 Who deal in contraband of love ; 
 And either thoughtlessly abuse 
 All they are destined soon to lose, 
 Or, mindful of a rainy day, 
 In Youth's full sunshine make their hay ? 
 Since wives, alas ! too often make 
 By chance or choice, a worse mistake. 
 Spite of the balances and checks 
 That should restrain the softer sex, 
 They aim, through struggles every hour 
 Renewed, at victory and power - 7 
 And, scorning gentle Influence, strive 
 To govern by Prerogative ; 
 Till, weakened by an overstrain, 
 Snap goes the matrimonial chain ! 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 215 
 
 Tis true, the mystic knot, once tied, 
 Sets Law and Gospel on their side 5 
 But, urged too strictly or too long, 
 The clearest right becomes a wrong ; 
 And, as extremes for ever touch, 
 They forfeit all, who claim too much. 
 
 " There's magic in the nuptial Ring !" 
 So Fancy paints, and poets sing. 
 But magic, as 'tis understood 
 In conjuring-books, is bad and good 5 
 In kindness practised, or in spite, 
 By scores of witches, black and white. 
 The Genie of that Ring (I'm loth 
 To own his trimming) dealt in both. 
 
216 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Hatred, and scorn, as well as love, 
 Within its narrow circle move 5 
 And all, — love, hatred, joy, and mourning, 
 Depends upon the way 'tis worn in. 
 
 Thus Dervises (the tale is Persian ; 
 Pray read it in the English version) 
 Were changed, by force of certain switches 
 Left-handed — into piles of riches ! 
 But the poor blunderer, who struck 
 With the right-hand, had different luck. 
 For lo ! to teach him how to judge ill, 
 Each Dervise, brandishing a cudgel, 
 With hard and heavy blows, instead 
 Of money, left the wretch for dead. 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 217 
 
 Enough. I'll not repeat the jokes 
 Worn thread-bare upon married folks. 
 Darts quite as pointed from their quivers 
 Are aimed, in turn, at single-livers \ 
 Since who from blame can stand aloof, 
 Or what condition's laughter-proof? 
 Enough. — No longer I'll digress. 
 Back, Muse, from wedlock to the press. 
 
 The paths of printing are mysterious, 
 I own, — the consequences serious 5 
 Stern censure, ridicule uncheck'd, 
 " Faint praise," and, worst of all — neglect; 
 The reader's frowns, the critic's stripes, 
 And other incidents of types, 
 
218 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 When authors write to please themselves, 
 And copies sleep unsold on shelves. 
 But why stand shuddering on the brink ? 
 Courage, — I'll venture, — swim or sink ; 
 Past is the hour of hesitation $ 
 So here (avaunt deliberation !) 
 Off goes my packet in a hurry, 
 To take its chance with Mr. Murray. 
 
 Say, Julia, did you never try 
 Your fortune in the lottery 3 
 Where loss is easy to foretell, 
 And gain almost a miracle ? — 
 How like, how very like, I feel 
 The Press is to a lottery wheel ! 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 21i> 
 
 Both have their traps, and flattering schemes, 
 
 And puffs almost as true as dreams. 
 
 Yet, though thus closely they agree, 
 
 However rash the' adventure be, 
 
 I'll curb my terror as it rises, 
 
 And risk my numbers— blanks, or prizes, 
 
 Julia, farewell ! My words, I fear, 
 Fall blunted on your listless ear. 
 The best advice, like physic taken, 
 Leaves stubborn wills like yours unshaken, 
 Julia, farewell ! In language warmer 
 'Twere idle to upbraid you, charmer 5 
 Though, could I summon to my aid 
 And hold communion with the shade 
 
220 ADVICE TO JULIA. 
 
 Of Prior,, Swift, or Mathew Green 
 
 Who warred against the monster, Spleen $ 
 
 Or could my fingers wield the pen 
 
 Poetic of those living men, 
 
 Those bards, who, dear to all the Nine, 
 
 Heed not the praise of tongues like mine ; 
 
 My Muse, no novice in her art, 
 
 Might, through your senses, reach your heart ; 
 
 Like the sweet lark might upward spring, 
 
 And, not content with chirping, sing. 
 
 But no. — The* aspiring wish is vain. 
 
 Too feebly flows my humble strain, 
 
 Destined to leave you as it found you, 
 
 Spoiled by the flatterers who surround you ! 
 
ADVICE TO JULIA. 221 
 
 Hence, thirsty Quill. — Thou shalt not drink 
 Nor waste another drop of ink 
 In chiding^ — for if not severe 
 My lecture,, 'tis too long, I fear ; 
 And, Julia, who can tell if you, 
 My dear,* will ever read it through, 
 Or reach my parting word Adieu ! 
 
 * chi sa, se mai 
 
 I 
 
 Ti sovverrai di me ! 
 
 Metastasio. 
 
NOTES. 
 
% 
 
NOTES. 
 
 Note 1, page 3, line 3. 
 Why have you thus poor Charles undone ? 
 
 Sybarin cur properes amando 
 
 Perdere? 
 
 Horace, Ode 8. Book I. 
 To this Ode, consisting of only sixteen lines, the 
 author of these rhymes is indebted for the first con- 
 ception of what he has endeavoured to execute. It 
 occurred to him that, by filling up such an outline on 
 a wider canvass, it might be possible to exhibit a 
 picture, if imperfect not unfaithful, of modern habits 
 and manners, and of the amusements and lighter 
 occupations of the higher classes of society in Eng- 
 land. The shortness of the Ode has tempted him 
 to imitate it. Classical readers may not perhaps be 
 
 Q 
 
c 2%6 NOTES. 
 
 displeased at meeting with occasional allusions to a 
 favourite author, while to others they will be, at the 
 worst, indifferent, and may, as such, be passed over 
 without injury to the Poem. They are distinguished 
 in the text by marks of reference wherever they 
 occur. 
 
 Note 2, page 7, lines 5 and 6. 
 Time was, he minded not a feather 
 If it was bright or cloudy weather. 
 
 — — cur apreciem 
 Oderit campum, patiens pulveris atque solis ? 
 
 Note 3, page 8, lines 1 to 10. 
 Or on a dressed Arabian barb, fyc. 
 
 Cur neque militaris 
 Inter sequales equitat j Gallica nee lupatis 
 Temperat ora frsenis. 
 
 Note 4, page 13, lines 1 and 2. 
 Hence the smart miniatures enclosed 
 Of unknown candidates proposed. 
 
 These lines allude to what is said to have actually 
 happened a few seasons ago. In a letter to one of 
 the Patronesses, requesting a subscription for a 
 young lady then a stranger in London, came en- 
 
NOTKS. 227 
 
 closed her portrait. But Beauty itself is seldom 
 current in high life without the stamp of Fashion; 
 and the device, though ingenious, was not suc- 
 cessful. 
 
 Note 5, page 15, lines 14, &c. 
 If, in compassion to a building 
 Degraded by such paint and gilding, fyc. 
 
 The Opera is a public establishment, and as such, 
 the author, as one of the public, has freely given his 
 opinion upon it. Towards the Manager he has not 
 the least ill will^ nor is he acquainted with him even 
 by sight. 
 
 This Theatre, once so liberally and splendidly 
 conducted, has gradually declined, until, far from 
 being as formerly a school for music and dancing, 
 it is now not even a brilliant assembly. Yet enor- 
 mous sums are annually received, and we are to 
 presume, expended for its support ; and the continent 
 has been open, during the last five years, for the 
 engagement of the best performers. The causes of 
 this decline and fall are obvious enough ; for its 
 effects, the manager has only to refer to his list of 
 subscribers, from whence most of the leading names 
 have been long since erased. Other Theatres de- 
 
 q2 
 
2£8 NOTES, 
 
 pend for support on the Metropolis at large, but the 
 Opera is the creature of Fashion. If not in fashion, 
 it is nothing. 
 
 Some symptoms of better management, it is fair 
 to admit, have lately appeared $ some novelty has 
 been produced 5 but much more must be accom- 
 plished before the Opera can regain its former re- 
 putation. 
 
 Note 6, page 40, lines 3 and 4. 
 Say, is the man to blame or you, 
 That thus, he 's never black and blue ? 
 
 Neque jam livida gestat armis 
 Brachia. 
 
 Note 7> page 40, line 10. 
 He draws no bow, — except a long one. 
 
 Ssepe trans finem jaculo 
 Nobilis expedito. 
 
 Note 8, page 42, line 14. 
 The " mighty crack's'* prophetic warning. 
 An expression perhaps as well applied here as by 
 Addison to the destru ction of a world. See his 
 translation of Horace's Ode 3. Book 3. 
 
NOTES. c 229 
 
 Note 9, page h% line 1 1 . 
 Backed by the glittering skirts of London. 
 
 But oh ! what solemn scenes, on Snowdon's height 
 Descending slow, their glittering skirts unfold ! 
 
 Gray. 
 
 Note 10, page 56, lines 5 and 6. 
 In vain the girls and deer so fallow 
 Sport on its banks, — he swears 'tis yellow. 
 
 Cur timet flavum Tyberim tangere ? 
 
 Note 11, page 60, line 6\ 
 So the Don mingles with the Thames. 
 
 Syrus in Tiberim defluxit Orontes. 
 
 Juvenal. 
 
 Note 12, page 61, lines 10 and 11. 
 " Have you, my friend? Yve heard him say, 
 " Been lucky in your turns to-day?" — 
 A question actually put by a great master en fait 
 de Cravates to one of his most promising pupils, 
 The author is chargeable only with the rhymes, and 
 with a little amplification. 
 
 i 
 
230 NOTES. 
 
 Note 13, page 66, lines 7 and 8. 
 No more his well-brushed hair is sleek 
 With eau de miel, or huile antique. 
 
 cur olivum 
 
 Sanguine viperino 
 Cautius vitat ? — 
 
 Note 14, page 79, lines 1 and 2. 
 Haste while you may. — Behold, approaches 
 The last of yonder string of coaches. 
 The rule was till very lately settled that, even 
 after half-past eleven, the whole string of coaches 
 then formed in the street might deposit its contents 
 in the ball-room. By this equitable construction 
 many were admitted after midnight ; but now, the 
 hour of limitation has been enlarged till twelve 
 o'clock, and the privilege of the string abolished. 
 Very nice points however arise, and are stoutly 
 argued in favour of the string on rainy nights; and 
 My Ladies The Judges are known to have been 
 divided in their opinions. 
 
 Note 15, page 85, lines 5 and 6, &c. 
 Return blest days, or rather nights 
 Of dear ineffable delights, 8$c. 
 The balls here described are become matter of 
 
 bed are be 
 
NOTES. 231 
 
 history, and fortunate are those who do not recollect 
 them. They were given at Egremont, now Chol- 
 mondeley-House in Piccadilly, on a scale of magni- 
 ficence, and at a cost unheard of in these degenerate 
 days. 
 
 Note 16, page 87, lines 7 and 8. 
 Who, though five hundred are set down, 
 Finds chickens' wings for all the town ! 
 A request from some one at supper to be helped 
 to the leg* of a chicken, was, it seems, overheard by the 
 mistress of the feast. " I should be sorry indeed," she 
 is reported to have said, " if in my house there were 
 not chickens' ivings enough for every body at table !" 
 Note 17, page 104, line 4. 
 Strolling through Coblentz. 
 That part of the Boulevards, on the north side, 
 between the Rue Lepelletier, and the Rue Taitbout. 
 At one end of it is the Cafe Hardy, and at the other 
 the Cafe Tortoni. In fine summer- evenings it is 
 lighted up, and then, though incredibly hot and 
 dusty, much frequented as a promenade. 
 
 Note 18, page 108, lines 7 and 8, &c. 
 What boots it, lovely Julia, that you 
 Are modelled lik ejji at Grecian statue, fyc. 
 To make this young lady some amends for an 
 
232 NOTES. 
 
 indifferent character, and the better to account for 
 her boundless influence over the mind of her lover, 
 (who, for the same reason, is described as just of age) 
 the author has endowed her with every attraction 
 of face and figure,— in short with perfect beauty. 
 
 Note 19, page 116, line 12. 
 Dunaris Duchess. 
 
 So created, somewhat hastily, by one of our lead- 
 ing English journals in the month of September 
 1815, on the authority of an anonymous correspond- 
 ent. Such waggeries are " pleasant, but wrong." 
 
 Note 20, page 116, line 14. 
 Old de R that veteran sinner. 
 
 A most ancient decoy-duck of the Salons de jeu. 
 
 Not to know him argues yourself unknown. 
 
 Note 21, page 118, line 6. 
 That oracle the card and pin. 
 
 These are placed regularly round the table, for 
 the accommodation of the punters $ and it is amusing 
 to observe the diligence with which many of the 
 gravest among them are engaged in pricking down 
 every coup, during a whole evening $ while they regu- 
 
NOTES. 233 
 
 late their play according to the balance of blacks and 
 reds, and the order in which those colours occur, 
 with a hardihood of faith worthy of the middle ages. 
 
 Note 22, page 118, line 14. 
 " Shift, like boiled lobsters, to the red" 
 
 And like a lobster boiled, the morn 
 From black to red began to turn. 
 
 Hudibras. 
 
 Note 23, page 120, line 5. 
 Now for my favourite Martingale. 
 
 A Martingale is when a punter, on losing his 
 stake, doubles, or otherwise increases it in a certain 
 progression, generally on the same colour. He would 
 thus in the end be sure of winning but for the Apres, 
 and but for a regulation by which the bank refuses 
 to cover a higher stake than twelve thousand franks. 
 At this limit the Martingale, if not prematurely cut 
 off by an Apres, must die a natural death. 
 
 Note 24, page 121, line 8. 
 The Apres with th' accursed sheers. 
 
 The Aprds is when the same number is turned up 
 on both colours. Should that number be thirty-one, 
 
234 NOTES. 
 
 which happens,, upon calculation, once in eight-and- 
 twenty times, the Bank wins half the stake of all 
 the punters ; and consequently absorbs the whole once 
 in fifty-six times. "Monsieur/' said an old habitue 
 of the Rouge-et-noir table to a young beginner, u des 
 que votre Napoleon a pan* cinquante six fois, — il 
 est mange r 
 
 Note 2h, page 144, line 13 
 Shot from yon Heavenly Bow at White's. 
 
 This bow has been lately repaired and new strung, 
 since when it does more execution than ever. Speak- 
 ing less metaphorically, the bow-window at White's 
 is now enlarged, and affords a much better view 
 than it did before of all that passes in the street. 
 
 Note 26, page 163, lines 3 and 4. 
 Dogs in the fancied chase grow hot, 
 And birds impatient to be shot. 
 
 Obsccenique canes, importunceque volucres. 
 
 Virgil. 
 
 In describing the signs thaj^accompany the close 
 of a London season, the author has occasionally 
 
NOTES. 235 
 
 alluded to the description, in the first book of the 
 Georgics, of the prodigies on the death of Julius 
 Caesar. It is enough to hint at a passage too long 
 for insertion, and too strikingly poetical to be for- 
 gotten by any classical reader. 
 
 Note 27, page 165, lines 12 and 13, &c. 
 Let but a single spot begin 
 To stain the brightness of the skin, fyc. 
 
 Tres rugae subeant, et se cutis arida laxet ? i 
 Colli ge sarcinulas, dicet libertus, et exi. 
 
 Juvenal, 
 
 Note 28, page 199, lines 9 and 10. 
 
 Once (long ago and far away) 
 
 A Boy was thus disguised, they say. 
 
 Quid latet, ut marinae 
 
 Filium dicunt Thetidis ? &c. 
 
 Note 29, page 20 1 , lines 5 and 6, &c, 
 Else in his rambles he might meet 
 Some bustling agent in the street, fyc. 
 ne virilis 
 Cultus in caedeiii, et Lycias proriperet catervas. 
 
236 NOTES. 
 
 Note 30, page 210, lines 11 and 12. 
 He may, when all resources fail, 
 Prefer — a patron to a jail. 
 
 There mark what ills the scholar's life assail \ 
 Toil, envy, want, the patron, and the jail. 
 
 Johnson. 
 The politician is more fortunate. He has gene- 
 rally his choice between these two last evils. The 
 scholar too often encounters them both at once. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY THOMAS DAVISON, WiUTKFRIARS. 
 
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 LB Mr '05