THE 
 
 PARADISE 
 
 COQUETTES. 
 
 A POEM, 
 JJV JV7ft!E PARTS. 
 
 SECOND AMERICAN EDITION, 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 PRINTED FOR ABRAHAM SMALL AND FOR JAMES 
 AND SON, ALEXANDRIA, 
 
 1817 
 
p 
 
PREFACE, 
 
 TO present a long poem to the world, in this age of 
 criticism, is sufficiently perilous in itself, whatever may 
 be its subject or its peculiar manner of composition How- 
 much more perilous is it, if, with the misfortune of being 
 long, it have the additional misfortune of not harmonising 
 with the prevailing taste of the period ! 
 
 The fashion of our poetic taste, and the fashion of our 
 general manners, exhibit at present a contrast, which the 
 philosophic observer of the varieties of human judgment 
 and caprice cannot fail to remark. If an estimate of our 
 national character were to be formed> in our drawing- 
 rooms, and in those places of promiscuous resort, which 
 are still even a little more public than the most crowded 
 of our private saloons, we should unquestionably be rank- 
 ed as a people of the gay> or at least, since our efforts to 
 be gay are not always very happy, as a people of deter- 
 mined lovers of gaiety. But, if it were on the prevailing 
 poetry of the time that the estimate were to be founded, 
 there can be as little doubt, that we should be charac- 
 terised as a far more serious generation, than the gentle- 
 
 2G9484 
 
IV PREFACE. 
 
 men in buckram ; and the ladies in hoops and stomachers, 
 who preceded us at the distance of more than a centu- 
 ry; when to listen, with a decorous modesty of every 
 feature, was the great accomplishment of youthful Beau- 
 ty, as it is now to talk and laugh with grace ; and when 
 a smile of easy gaiety on a blooming cheek, in the pre- 
 sence of a stranger of a different sex, was a portent? at 
 which Mothers and Grandmothers gathered their brows 
 and looked grave. 
 
 To state fully the circumstances, by which the oppo- 
 site character of the manners and literature of these dif- 
 ferent periods seems to have been produced, would re- 
 quire more room than the limits of a preface afford. Some 
 of them are undoubtedly to be traced to peculiar events 
 in our civil history, when opposition to the rigid austeri- 
 ties of puritanism forced out, from the courtly party, a 
 more abundant licentiousness of gaiety, than would other- 
 wise have been evolved; and when, with little virtue and 
 not much profound statesmanship round the most profli- 
 gate of our sovereigns, there was always "a ring of witty 
 courtiers round their witty king." 
 
 Other Courts brought more severity of manners. But 
 the powerful direction, which had been given to genius, 
 did not admit of so rapid a change. We can alter, at a 
 moment's warning, the hours of our repasts, the fashions 
 of our drapery, and all the gay or grave ceremonial of our 
 public courtesies, to which our feelings of internal deco- 
 
PREFACE. V 
 
 urn speedily adapt themselves: but, amid a thousand 
 fluctuations of this sort, our libraries remain as they were. 
 We still retain, and of course still reperuse, the works 
 which have often delighted us; and our taste, therefore, 
 and the corresponding 1 direction of inventive genius, con- 
 tinue still to preserve a certain relation to them. The 
 gravity of the court of William was a powerful check to 
 the frivolous licentiousness that had flowed from the 
 court of Charles : but it did not prevent the influence 
 of " the wits of Charles," on the wit that was to render- 
 illustrious the succeeding reign. 
 
 The very different slowness or quickness, with which 
 we change our admiration of authors, and our admiration, 
 of arbitrary forms and outward ceremonies, that react 
 with a more powerful influence than we are ready to 
 suppose on the gaiety or gravity within, may thus ac- 
 count for many seeming irregularities, which the taste 
 and manners of a country present ; at periods when im- 
 portant events, or accidental diversities in the morals and 
 humours of the leaders of courts, have tended to impress 
 .a peculiar form on the intercource of social life. But it 
 is still more to circumstances, that must be the same in 
 every country, in which education is extensively diffused, 
 and the various ranks of educated society mingle with 
 each other, that I would ascribe the contrast at present 
 so remarkable. When the advantage of refined instruc- 
 tion is limited to an aristocracy, elegance of manners will 
 A 2 
 
VI PREFACE. 
 
 be confined, or nearly confined, within the same little 
 sphere. To possess the tone of that society is to be in 
 some measure distinguished; to acquire it is an object 
 of proud desire: and the poet, who is perhaps the most 
 ambitious of all men, will be the quickest to feel that 
 peculiar ambition. He will wish to shew that he is a 
 great master of his art, and to shew also that he is a gen- 
 tleman; and while the influence of this wish prevails, it 
 is not wonderful, that there should appear some exqui- 
 site pieces of light and brilliant fancy, together probably 
 with myriads of such verses, as were thrown off, without 
 the trouble of thinking, by "the mob of gentlemen who 
 wrote with ease." 
 
 When, however, in a different state of society, educa- 
 tion in its fullest intellectual sense, of all that is useful 
 and elegant in art and science is widely diffused, and the 
 light graces of conversation are no longer confined to 
 courts and the frequenters of courts, there is no longer 
 the same object of ambition, in the happy artificial sem- 
 blance of them ; since little would be gained, by appear- 
 ing to be what such multitudes are. In these circum-- 
 stances, therefore, the poet, as eager as before to be pro- 
 minently conspicuous, is very naturally led to assume a 
 different character. The gay and brilliant are no longer 
 the colours of a higher region, in which it seems glorious 
 to him to glitter : they are only the common element, in 
 which all around him appear to him to move. He must be 
 
PREFACE. VU 
 
 distinguished ; and he feels that he is then most distin- 
 guished from the lively talkers of prose around him, when 
 his poetry is marked by solemnity of subject and stateli- 
 ness of emphasis. It is a very natural prejudice, to sup- 
 pose, that a work of art so elaborate must be essentially 
 opposite to what is familiar and seemingly spontaneous; 
 and the more generally brilliant conversation may be, the 
 more solemn therefore, I conceive, in such a case, is poet- 
 ry likely to become. 
 
 Bt- ihe cause what it may, however, the fact is certain 
 thai the light and playful fancy, which amused the gra- 
 vity of our great-great-grandfathers, is now but little vi- 
 sible, in the poetry of their gayer grandchildren. Even 
 our satire, partaking of the selfishness of our serious pas- 
 sions, is only for the leaders or followers of a political 
 party ; and, beyond the compass of an epigram or an epi- 
 logue, a song or a parody, it seems to us scarcely con- 
 ceivable, that there should be any relation ojj verse and 
 smiles. 
 
 In this almost exclusive reign of the graver Muses, two 
 styles, of a very different kind, have absorbed and divi- 
 ded the general admiration, the ballad style, aud the 
 serious descriptive. 
 
 Of these the more popular is, without all question, the 
 ballad style. I use the phrase, without meaning in the 
 slightest degree to depreciate, by an humble name, com- 
 positions that must be allowed to be of the highest merit, 
 
Vili 
 
 whatever be the denomination employed to include them, 
 and merely to express that sort of manner, which was 
 formerly considered as peculiar to short romantic narra- 
 tives in verse. 
 
 That this style has many excellences, cannot be denied, 
 and excellences, which are perhaps of greater value, in 
 the long- complicated story of modern poetic romance, 
 than in the short and simple pieces to which it was for- 
 merly confined. By its abruptness, it enables the poet to 
 present his pictures more vividly ; since it frees him from 
 all the forms of slow and ceremonious transition, which 
 often, in the regular Epic, prepare the reader so fully for 
 what is about to be presented to him, that the picture it- 
 self is in a great measure anticipated, and however new, 
 seems scarcely to have the charm of novelty. How dull 
 would a tragedy appear, if, at every shifting of the scene, 
 during its first representation, some very kind friend at 
 our elbow were to be unwearied in telling us, Now the 
 Princess is gone, to prepare the poison, which is after* 
 wards to be slily mixed in the bowl for her rival, Now 
 the Prince is to discover, that he has been made the in- 
 strument of presenting death to his mistress, and is to 
 swallow what remains in the goblet, or to stab himself 
 with the fatal hand that offered it, according as either 
 form of suicide may have been more in favour with the 
 horror-loving dramatist. This sort of small prophecy, 
 which is often unavoidable in Epic narration, is a duty 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 that is not imposed on the ballad poet, who is allowed a 
 far greater exercise of the magic of his art, and whisks us 
 from Britain to the Holy Land, or from any part of this ter- 
 raqueous globe to any other part of it, with ten times 
 more rapidity than an ancient poet could have ventured 
 on his humbler excursions from Thebes to Athens. 
 
 If the poet, in adopting the style of our ancient min- 
 strels, profit by its licensed abruptness, he profits no less, 
 in the additional force of seeming reality, which he is en- 
 abled to give to his descriptions, by a privilege of an op- 
 posite kind ; the privilege of almost unbounded minute* 
 ness of detail. Whole armies may be made to parade be- 
 fore us, with all their caparisons, and weapons of death 
 or defence ; and, from the feather or the horse-hair, that 
 dances on the crest, to the ponderous spur on the heel, 
 every piece of every species of accoutrement may be de- 
 scribed, with the technical fidelity of a didactic armour- 
 er or a controversial antiquary. The advantage, in im- 
 pression of truth, which a picture derives from this mi- 
 nuteness, is far greater than might be supposed by those 
 who look back critically on the description, and, from the 
 measurement of its length as a Whole, infer a correspond- 
 ing weariness, which perhaps was little felt, when object 
 succeeded object rapidly, in the original perusal. In a 
 work constructed on a different model, so cumbrous a de- 
 tail would indeed be rejected, with instant dislike, as im- 
 plying too little of that selection, which we require in the 
 
X PREFACE. 
 
 pictures of an artist, who sets out with the assumption of 
 a character of high finish : and this constant accompa- 
 nying- impression of want of taste in the poet would de- 
 prive his minuteness of the effect, which otherwise it 
 might have succeeded in producing. In the ballad, how- 
 ever, no such counteracting impression exists, to check 
 the spontaneous feelings. The minuteness is considered 
 as in perfect congroity with the species of composition. 
 It is what we expected ; and, therefore, since it does 
 not bring the author himself before us as a delinquent} 
 it allows us to receive quietly the images, which he pre-r 
 sents to us with a distinct particularity, that makes 
 them felt as real and almost familiar. 
 
 Together with these advantages, in the liveliness of 
 its abrupt transitions, and the graphic fidelity of its pic- 
 tures, there can be no doubt that the ballad style derives 
 much of its powerful impression, from its association 
 with the feelings of early years, in the romantic litera- 
 ture and traditionary lore of the nursery. Of that little 
 circle of erudition, tales of wonder formed the principal 
 part ; and e\ r en the faintest and most shadowy remini- 
 scences of these, may well be supposed to be attended 
 with some portion of the pleasure,' with which we view a 
 scene, that recals to us the distant home of our youth. 
 How much of the peculiar charm of national music, is 
 derived from the early songs, that lulled the infant to 
 slumber, or suspended the sport of the boy, when h? 
 
PREFACE. Xi 
 
 rested his little heas} on his mother's knee, to gaze, and 
 listen and weep. Ballad poetry is to us, during life, like 
 those first airs, or at least, like airs that partake, and 
 still present to us in a different form, the well-known 
 character of the national melody. It charms us perhaps 
 as excellent in itself : but it charms us too as the awa- 
 kener of emotions of other years. 
 
 I know, that by many fastidious critics, the ballad style 
 is, on this very account, regarded with unjust disparage- 
 ment. It seems to them childish, and unworthy of the 
 approbation of men, because it has many resemblances to 
 that which pleased them when children. They forget* 
 how much of all that man admires, is founded on the 
 same principles, from which the delight of the ballad 
 flows. It would not be easy, in an analysis of the plea- 
 sures of taste, to find a principle of more general opera- 
 tion, than that which invests with peculiar charms, what- 
 ever is representative of the studies or pastimes that first 
 occupied our thought. It is the duty of a great poet, to 
 avail himself, as fully as his subject admits, of all the 
 sources of pleasure in our intellectual and moral frame ; 
 and for availing himself therefore of the associations of 
 early wonder and delight, when there is no sacrifice of 
 higher or wider interest, he is as little reprehensible, as 
 for rendering instrumental to his art, in the most exqui- 
 site tragedy, that early love of imitation, which becomes 
 apparent in the first exertions of the infant, and converts 
 
XH PREFACE. 
 
 into a little drama or pantomime so many of the sports of 
 the succeeding years of his boyhood. 
 
 It is not the philosopher, then, but the mere verbal 
 pedant in criticism, who can suffer himself to be misled 
 by the prejudice that every thing must be child'sh, by 
 which children are pleased. Yet though the ballad style 
 is not censurable on this account, there are. evils that 
 must flow from it, to the poets of genius who may culti- 
 vate it, and to the readers whose enthusiastic admiration 
 such powerful genius may excite, which must always 
 render the popularity of that style an object of regret to 
 the philosophic critic, even when he may himself feel, 
 in his own lively emotions of sympathy with some suffer- 
 ing hero or heroine, thecommanding influence of the very 
 swaywhich he deprecates. 
 
 It is the duty of the poet, as I have said, to avail him- 
 self as much as his subject allows, of all the sources of 
 pleasure in our mental frame, that lie within the com- 
 pass of his art. But of the many sources, of which he 
 may thus occasionally avail himself> for particular pur- 
 poses, all are not alike worthy of his mightier and more 
 comprehensive efforts. There are local, and temporary, 
 and accidental associations, as well as associations that 
 may be said to prevail universally: and he alone, it is 
 evident, can expect to be the poet of all ages and coun- 
 tries, who preferring what is universal in our nature to 
 what is partial and transient, addresses himself to the 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 feelings of all ages alfe countries. Many peculiarities 
 of the ballad style depend indeed on the very nature of 
 the mind, in some of its liveliest susceptibilities of emo- 
 tion, and therefore on principles which must be of con- 
 stant operation, wherever there is a bard to sing, and 
 ears and a heart to receive the song. But how many of 
 its peculiar forms, that, in themselves, have no beauty, 
 and would be regarded as insufferably dull and tame or 
 stiff and quaint, are consecrated to us only by the re- 
 membrance of similar phrases in the early legends of our 
 youth : and where that elevating influence never has been 
 felt, or has ceased to be,felt, must appear in their ge- 
 nuine awkwardness or meanness. There can be little 
 doubt, that, in such a case, a foreigner, who knows our 
 language well, but has studied it only in our best works, 
 will often ascribe to the imitator what was meagre pover- 
 ty of phrase only in the sorry rhymings which he imi- 
 tated. Nor is it quite certain, that, even in our owij 
 country, the early associations> which now confer digni- 
 ty on the occasional harsh or prosaic phraseology of the 
 ballad, are likely to subsist as long, as that perpetuity 
 of reverence which every poet must wish, for all the 
 forms and phrases of his own works. Whatever little 
 philosophy we may exercise with respect to ourselves, 
 we have of late grown wondrously philosophic, in all 
 matters of the nursery. Within those walls, where 
 they once presided as Divinities, Ghosts and Goblins 
 
Xiv PREFACE. 
 
 have no longer a permitted entrance Jfcand the place of 
 the dark and shadowy tales, which spoke of them, is 
 supplied by innocent moralities of little Masters and 
 Misses, or miniature encyclopaedias of half the sciences 
 and arts. It is far from improbable, that, before a few- 
 generations shall have passed away, the very names of 
 Ghost and Goblin may be unknown to the baby philoso- 
 phers of both sexes, who may be trained to lisp and 
 prattle unmeaningly, about experiments and propositions, 
 around the very fire, where their little predecessors had 
 laughed or trembled; at the tale of the merry fay or cruel 
 genie. 
 
 This-slight and uncertain evil, which' a poet of genias 
 may possibly suffer, from his adoption of certain forms 
 of ballad expression, that must continue as his, though 
 the feelings which consecrated them should have ceased, 
 is however scarcely worthy of being mentioned. The 
 great and certain evil of the style is the facility of pass- 
 ing current imperfections, which, in any other species 
 of composition, he would be under the necessity of cor- 
 recting. How many harsh or feeble lines, hov/ many 
 discordant images, are admitted by him, because he re- 
 members the Norfolk Tragedy, or Chevy Chace, or some 
 other ditty as fierce or doleful, and relies on the remem- 
 brance of them by his readers ! The most useful of all 
 lessons, which a poet, or a writer of any k;ind, can re- 
 ceive, are those which he derives from his own mind, 
 
PKEFACE. XV 
 
 daring the process of steadily correcting what is imper- 
 fect. Every fault, which is thus removed, prevents 
 many faults of future composition : and he who too rea- 
 dily allows a blemish to remain, in the confidence of its 
 being overlooked, is not merely deprived of the benefit 
 of this salutary self-correction, but will learn to become 
 gradually more and more self-indulgent. It is not in 
 the exorcism of vices of style, as in exorcism of a differ- 
 ent kind, in which the banishment of a single devil might 
 be the introduction of many worse. But, if one fault, of 
 which an author is conscious, be suffered to retain atp 
 place, a whole legion will soon be there ; and the end of 
 that man will be worse than his beginning : his works will 
 be less esteemed, because they will truly be less worthy 
 of esteem. 
 
 The peculiar licensed facilities of the ballad style, 
 then, are injurious to the poet himself, in that progress 
 of excellence, which is the noblest destiny of all that is 
 not absolutely perfect. But it is to the delighted and 
 devoted reader chiefly, that the style is hurtful, in the 
 corruption or perversion of his taste. Paradoxical as it 
 may appear, it is hurtful, in a great measure, by that 
 very vividness of interest, which it may seem the per- 
 fection of poetry to produce. It must be remembered, 
 however, that vivid interest may be excited by narratives, 
 simply as narratives, independently of all that distin- 
 guishes poetry from prose; since a novel or romance 
 
XVI PREFACE. 
 
 gives pleasure of the same intense kind, as that which 
 the minstrel excites. The interest, which a poetic narra- 
 tive thus affords, merely as s story of marvellous inci- 
 dent, will be confounded then, by those who are not in. 
 the habit of very nice discriminations, with the pleasure 
 which it excites as a poem ; and the mind, affected with 
 the mixed delight, will naturally be led to admire most 
 what has excited this interest in the highest degree. It 
 will assume therefore a false scale, in its measurements 
 of poetic excellence, and, in comparing the most exqui- 
 site compositions of a calmer kind, with some hurried 
 and tumultuous tale of peril and mystery, will feel only 
 that the one has awakened more lively emotions, and 
 will err therefore, in awarding a superiority which is 
 not justly due. The more habitually the mind may 
 have been stimulated, by perils and perplexities, and le- 
 gendary wonders of all sorts, the less lively of course 
 will be the interest which it feels, in simple imagery or 
 sentiment. I am not sure, that he who gives his nights 
 and mornings to the unravelment of the mysteries of our 
 circulating libraries, will be the fittest to feel the beauty 
 of ,a simple and comprehensive theorem in geometry. 
 Yet there is not here the same source of error; because 
 the excellence of a novel, and the excellence of a mathe- 
 matical demonstration, are felt at every moment to be 
 different in kind. But, in poetry, a certain species of 
 interest is unquestionably essential to excellence; and 
 
PREFACE. XVil 
 
 though this interest is far from being precisely the same 
 with the eagerness of curiosity excited, or the vivid de- 
 light of curiosity gratified, they may yet be so intimately 
 blended, that common eyes may be incapable of distin- 
 guishing, in the complex gratification its faint and 
 shadowy elements. It is very manifest, that what af- 
 fords pleasure must at least have had the merit of being 
 fitted to produce pleasure ; and it is not very wonderful 
 therefore, that the work, which forces the reader along, 
 and makes him turn every page with eager avidity, 
 should be classed by him above pieces of merit infinitely 
 superior, but which charm only with the simple beauties 
 of poetry itself. 
 
 The injury to the taste of the reader, however, does 
 not arise merely from the higher excitement, which the 
 mere adventures of a romantic narrative afford : for 
 this they only partake with some of the noblest forms of 
 poetic composition, in the drama and regular Epic. It 
 arises still more from the kind of archetype, which is 
 constantly presented to the mind, and presented to it in 
 association with all the pleasure, which the individual 
 work, by its own surpassing beauty, may have excited. 
 The whole good or evil which a work produces is not 
 that which flows directly from itself. It is one of a 
 class ; and, as one of a class, it often injures, by faults 
 from which itself is exempt. To be delighhed with a 
 B 2 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 ballad is to love in some measure ballads ; and to have 
 been often thus delighted is to think with a sort of 
 grateful admiration of pieces, which, but for the supe- 
 rior works that have seduced us, we should have regard- 
 ed with contempt, or at least with indifference. It is no 
 small benefit to the purity of the artist's individual taste, 
 when he has not to confer dignity on a species of work 
 which has been before debased, but when the pre-exist- 
 ing models are such as it is possible for his own high 
 genius to surpass indeed, but which never can be re- 
 garded without admiration, even when so surpassed. 
 The works, which the ballad style brings before the 
 mind, are works that abound with all the faults of a 
 barbarous age. They are not, like the Jupiter and Apol- 
 lo of Greece, a nobler form of all that is noblest in the 
 external majesty or grace and beauty of man; but re- 
 semble far more the rudely carved blocks, that, with 
 abundant ferocity of eyes and mouth, but without a sin- 
 gle arm or Itg, have long received the worship of some 
 savage tribe, or, at best, some Deva of Hindostan, sit- 
 ting cross-legged, with a dozen heads, and thrice as 
 many hands. An excellent sculptor, by the exercise of 
 all the embellishing powers of his art, may indeed form, 
 even with a resemblance to such figures, an object that 
 may command the admiration of all who see it. But, 
 marvellous as the display of that art may, be it is not by 
 the assiduous contemplation of such products of it, that 
 
PREFACE. XIX 
 
 a Phidias is to be formed, or the eye that is to be wor- 
 thy of estimating the works of a Phidias. 
 
 Short as the period has been, since the revival of this 
 taste, sufficient proof has been afforded of the admira- 
 tion, that may be reflected on a whole class by iudividual 
 works of excellence. We have lived to see all the em- 
 bellishments of the press bestowed on the most misera- 
 ble rhymings, that chronicle the feats of some petty ma- 
 rauder, not for the sake of the light, which even such 
 petty chronicles may unquestionably throw on more im- 
 portant contemporary history, not as elucidating the 
 progress of the finest of arts, and presenting a picture 
 of the amusements of our feudal and semi-barbarous an.- 
 cestors, but as poems, in themselves worthy of an admi- 
 ration, which, as yet, we never think of bestowing on 
 meagerness and meanness a little nearer to our own 
 time. The qualities which we admire as ancient, how- 
 ever, we may gradually learn to admire too when mo- 
 dern : for it is impossible thus to have increased our ad- 
 miration, of what is rude, without some corresponding 
 assimilation of our taste to the still duller rudeness of 
 discernment, which, at another period, could listen to 
 such strains, as the sublimest poetry. 
 
 Popular, however, as the ballad style has of late been 
 rendered, by those eminent talents, which have known 
 how to exhibit it in its most attractive forms, it lias still 
 but a divided sway wilh another species of poetry ; which 
 
XX PREFACE. 
 
 has not perhaps so great a number of admirers, but has 
 among its admirers a greater number of the sage and re- 
 fined, whose critical sensibility has been nourished by 
 the study of the finished models of ancient and modem 
 literature. 
 
 The style to which I allude, is what may be termed 
 the serious descriptive t exhibiting trains of moral reflec- 
 tion, with accordant images, from the scenery of inani- 
 mate nature, or the living scene of human pleasure and 
 pain, and vice and virtue. It is perhaps in this powerful 
 and dignified species of poetry, that our country has a 
 higher claim to superiority, than in any other which, 
 could be named, and a superiority, which I conceive to 
 be itself founded on qualities, in which it is still nobler 
 for us to excel. Whatever may be the shades of defect, 
 in the political system under which we live, or in the 
 national character that has been formed under it, we 
 are more free than other nations, and, with the long en- 
 joyment of this freedom, have acquired that more elevat- 
 ed tone of moral sentiment, which cannot fail to exist 
 with liberty, where liberty is not the mere lawlessness 
 o? a savage 1 , but the inspiring" spirit of law itself. We 
 express more powerfully, then, our feelings of this kind, 
 because they are more deep in our hearts ; and we paint 
 with brighter colouring the several scenes, because we 
 have before our eyes a brighter and more beautiful so- 
 rirt.y. Our moral descriptions too, have the charm of 
 
PREFACE. XXi 
 
 being more various as well as vivid ; for we see man in a 
 greater diversity of aspects, not the powerful only who 
 command, and the feeble who obey, ,that, in so many 
 states, with a" little difference of external drapery, con- 
 stitute all the varieties of social life, but those innu- 
 merable beautiful gradations of independence, in which 
 there is a difference of rank indeed, and of the external 
 form of happiness, but not of the amount of happineis 
 itself, nor of the fearless security, in which that happi- 
 ness reposes. 
 
 It is an additional excellence of this species of poetry, 
 that it tends, by the most delightful of all reciproca- 
 tions, to nourish the pure and generous moral feelings, 
 in which it has in part originated. So various are the 
 external circumstances, that determine, I will not say 
 the whole character, but many of those particular ac- 
 tions, by the repetition of which the general character 
 may be insensibly modified, that it would be aosurd to 
 endeavour to estimate, in any case, the amount of influ- 
 ences which must vary with- almost every accident in 
 the life of every individual. Yet, if such an analysis 
 could be made, there can be no doubt, that one very im- 
 portant element would be found to be the poetry of the 
 country. Every one is acquainted with the saying of 
 the old Scotch patriot, Fletcher of Salton, who cared 
 little what the laws of a people were, if only he had the 
 making of their ballads : and though we may not per- 
 
XXli PREFACE. 
 
 baps be willing to admit the paradox, to the whole ex- 
 tent of its literal import, it may be readily admitted, to 
 the limited extent, in which he probably meant it to be 
 understood. The notions of vice and virtue, that are 
 truly effective, are not those which we call up, in our 
 grave enquiries into the principles of morals and the 
 practical duties of man, but those which float along the 
 mind spontaneously, in the very hour or moment of ac- 
 tion. There is a morality of our current trains of thought, 
 not arranged indeed as a system of principles in regular 
 order, but a mixed result of lessons and examples, and 
 reflections, and accidental associations of pleasure and 
 pain, of the most interesting events, that have impress- 
 ed us with admiration, or pity, or indignant resentment, 
 the sublime and pathetic expressions of those who 
 have heroically dared or suffered, the pointed maxims 
 of sages and wits, and still more than any of these, be- 
 cause m6st easy to be remembered, that happy eloquence 
 of verse, which, in conveying to us moral truths, has im- 
 pressed them on our hearts, in a manner that made it 
 impossible for us to forget them. These, united, form 
 as it were one active moral impulse, the persuasive force 
 of which, except in cases of very strong passion or very 
 powerful temptation, is constantly operating, in some 
 greater or less degree, on the conduct of all who have 
 not been absolutely uninstructed. Even under the most 
 depressing government, and under superstition still more 
 

 PREFACE. 
 
 wretchedly debasing-, it co-operates with the great na- 
 tive principle within us, in preserving- feelings, that 
 might otherwise have been clouded or overwhelmed. 
 The bard has not lost, in the civilised world, the func- 
 tion, which he is represented as exercising more directly, 
 in a simpler and wilder state of society. He is a legis- 
 lator still, fashioning our conduct, even when we are not 
 conscious that we are obeying him : and, when other 
 circumstances are equal, it is impossible to doubt, that 
 the nation must be the most virtuous, in which poets 
 after poets, in bright succession, have been the most 
 lavish of all the rich treasures of their art, in the em- 
 bellishment of sentiments of virtue. 
 
 In these powerful verses our nation, as I have already 
 remarked, is peculiarly rich : and though it would be as 
 little possible for any one to say, how much he has mo- 
 rally profited, by every impulse which his mind may 
 have thus received, as it would be for him to calculate, 
 how much he has profited in mere bodily grace of move- 
 ment, by the elegance of the mein and gestures of his 
 familiar associates, there can be no question that a cer- 
 tain moral grace of this kind is acquired, which directs 
 the mental conduct often as insensibly, as the step, or 
 stretching of the arm, or gentle inclination of the head, 
 is governed by those very airs, that seem to rise from 
 every motion of the graceful, rather than to have pre- 
 ceded and produced them. 
 
XXlt PREFACE. 
 
 The great evil of our serious poetry, however, in tbig 
 respect, is that, by the very circumstance of its stately 
 gravity, it has necessarily a didactic air, which lessens 
 the force of its persuasion. It is an original sin of our 
 nature, to be not very willing to admit reproof. Even 
 general satire, if satire be grave, finds the reader usu- 
 ally as impenetrably on his guard, as if he were himself 
 guilty of some one or other of the crimes, against which 
 the invective is directed ; and a single stroke, that seems 
 to be only the flourish of a playful hand, without any of 
 the malice prepense of a censor, will touch more to the 
 quick, and cut away more peccant matter, than repeated 
 assaults of a lustier arm, in serious and pertinacious com- 
 bat with every human vice and folly. When Horace is cha- 
 ractered to us in a very happy picture,* as one whom we 
 admit, in the very gaiety of friendship, to play around the 
 heart, we need not be astonished at the success, with 
 which, in these favourable circumstances, he is said to 
 find his way slily to all the vices that are lurking in its 
 secret corners. 
 
 The very excellence attained in this sublime province 
 has perhaps, however, in one respect, been injurious to 
 the grace and liveliness of our general poetry. Though 
 this delightful art is certainly something- far more than 
 mere personification, and though the dullest verses may 
 
 * Omne vafer vitium ridenti Flaccus amieo 
 Tangit, et admissus eircum prcecordia ludit 
 
PREFACE. XXV 
 
 be full of all the tropes of rhetoric, there can be no doubt 
 of the powerful charm of those allegorical beings with 
 which poetic fancy has peopled the universe. Nothing can 
 indeed be more disgusting to every mind of the slightest 
 taste, than the trite comparisons to the Goddess of Beau- 
 ty, with which every amorous songster thinks that he ern- 
 bellishes his miserable madrigal or acrostic yet how 
 much delight do we owe to Venus and the Graces, when 
 introduced to us by bards, whom these Divinities them- 
 selves seem to have gladly admitted into their train ! The 
 inexhaustible creations of this sort, which are for ever ly- 
 ing open to the imagination, our serious descriptive poe- 
 try does not exclude indeed, for it derives from them oc- 
 casionally its sublimest ornaments : but the general spirit 
 of the poetry is not friendly to them. It accustoms us ra- 
 ther to look on man as man, on nature as nature, with 
 more vividness, but almost with the exact truth of prose. 
 It presents us with sublime sentiments of all that is gene- 
 rous and heroic; it endears man to our regard as ami- 
 able, to our pity as suffering, to our very wrath and in- 
 dignation, if he be a sufferer under oppression. It moves 
 us with all the vehemence of oratory; but it scarcely em- 
 ploys a more figured phrase, than the orator considers 
 himself permitted to use. It seems to have an office too 
 important to allow it to stop to trifle with the airy and sha- 
 dowy beings that may come across it in its way: and the 
 reader, assimilated gradually in sentiment to the prevail- 
 C 
 
XXVi PREFACE. 
 
 ing feelings of the bard who has frequently delighted him, 
 learns at last, or almost learns, to consider poetry as only 
 the perfection of animated prose. 
 
 In these circumstances, with warm admiration of the 
 genius of the great masters in th. other departments of 
 verse, but with a wish to direct some little attention to a 
 province that seems to me to have been unworthily ne- 
 glected, I venture to submit to the public the following 
 poem. It is an attempt to represent the manners which 
 are living around us, to trace to the heart many of those 
 little passions, which are suffered to appear to the eye 
 only in the smile or the frown, to satirise what is worthy 
 of satire, but to satirise playfully, rather by painting than 
 invective, and, at the same time to enliven the picture 
 of the mere human scene with some of those embodieft 
 shapes of the fairy world of fancy, which, powerful as they 
 are in embellishment, it is too much the fashion of mo- 
 dern poetry to disregard. 
 
 It is an attempt however only and an attempt, of which, 
 in the present direction ef poetic taste and studies, even 
 though I were more disposed to regard the piece itself 
 with all the ordinary vanity of authorship, I should be far 
 from anticipating with much confidence the success. The 
 poet of chivalrous adventure requires, for the interest 
 which he wishes to excite, only those sympathetic passions, 
 which nature has provided for him in erery breast ; and 
 all, or almost all, who have received the general instruc- 
 
PREFACE. XXVli 
 
 tion that is necessary for being readers of poetry, can feel 
 the charm of sentiments of elevated virtue, and of pictures 
 of the well marked passions and pleasures and sufferings 
 of life. But the light and playful species of Epic is ad- 
 dressed to a small circle. It requires, in those whom it 
 addresses, a knowledge not merely of the tone of that so- 
 ciety from which its heroes and heroines are drawn, but, 
 in combination with this, a quick perception of the light- 
 er shades of character and passion, which are invisible 
 to common eyes, accustomed only to the broad and the 
 glaring ; and an acquaimanc with those beauties of graver 
 poetry, which are often meant to be suggested to the 
 reader's mind, not with the coarseness of parody indeed, 
 but in shadowy allusions, which without the coarseness, 
 have all the light contrast of parody itself. It is not among 
 the young, who are the quickest to admire and the warm- 
 est to praise, that such poetry must look for favour, but, 
 where favour is far more rarely to be found, among the 
 mature in experience and discernment, whose suscepti- 
 bility of lively admiration has been cooled by the very 
 culture which fitted them to judge, who are slow there- 
 fore to be delighted, and who express their delight in 
 terms of calm and qualified approval, that are the best 
 voice of fame indeed, but are fame only to those who 
 know to estimate the minds which have conferred it. 
 
 So fully am I aware of the probable influence of former 
 habits of poetic reading of a different kind, on the fur 
 
XXViU PREFACE. 
 
 greater proportion of my readers, that I have little doubt 
 that ninety-nine of the hundred if I may venture to cal- 
 culate on so large a number will consider as censurable 
 in the poem, what I yet trust that one in the hundred will 
 regard with approbation, and what, for the sake of that 
 one mind, with the prospect of such a disproportion in. 
 the number of censurers, I have not hesitated to retain. 
 I allude to the colloquy of my heroine with the Celestial 
 Genius, which many of my readers, accustomed to regard 
 every thing as superfluous, that does not shift a scene or 
 hurry on an event, may view only as a needless retarda- 
 tion of the glorious vision that was to be indulged to her; 
 but without which, as I conceive, it would have been im- 
 possible for me to delineate faithfully that character of 
 exquisite coquetry, which alone could justify and account 
 for the privileged revelation. 
 
 It has been my wish, accordingly, in the whole con- 
 duct of my heroine, to preserve, as faithfully HS my art 
 would allow, the character of this perfect coquetry, of 
 that coquetry, the spirit of which never sleeps, while the 
 eye and the mind are awake, but in all circumstances, 
 and all places, and all times, is still conscious of the 
 power of charming, and still eager to exercise the de- 
 lightful power. If, in the presence of the Genius, she 
 had calmly listened to his story of all which he had done 
 for her, and gracefully spoken or looked her thanks, 
 there can be no doubt, that the earthly visitant might 
 
PREFACE. XXI.t 
 
 have been sooner admitted within the Paradise of her 
 kindred Immortals : but, in that case, my heroine would 
 not have been of sufficient dignity of pre-eminence in 
 the rank of his worshippers, to merit the peculiar favour 
 of the mighty being-, who was to condescend to be her 
 guide. To the perfection of her character, and there- 
 fore indirectly to the perfection of his, it was necessary, 
 that in the representation of the celestial tete-a-tete, she 
 shuold carry on, almost without intentionally willing it, a 
 sort of gentle flirtation with the Genius himself, not 
 indeed precisely in the same manner, as she would have 
 coquetted with a mortal, whom she might hope to rank 
 in her train of slaves, but at least with that wish of 
 winning admiration, which, to be active, requires only 
 the presence of a being who can admire. 
 
 It is not, however, the mere picture of character, es- 
 sential as it truly is to the main action of the piece, 
 which is in this case to be estimated. The delay, which 
 the little dialogue produces, must be considered also in 
 the light relation which it is intended to bear to the tar- 
 dy pomp and solemnity of the serious Epic, where the 
 poet, far from rushing on rapidly with his hero to the 
 consummation of the end proposed by him, contrives 
 often to suspend the action, by the introduction of some 
 single combat or embassy, or consultation of Gods or 
 tnen. The high debate, and the contest of arms, admit 
 C 2 
 
XXX PREFACE. 
 
 h,ere of being* lightly shadowed together : for what war 
 is to the frowning chief, flirtation is to smiling- woman. 
 It has enterprises as resolute, and at least as many stra- 
 tagems. Her conversation, her very silence, her mere 
 presence, is as it were a skirmish of airs and graces ; and 
 the place, wherever it may be, where she is ambitious 
 of shining, is as truly as the most memorable plain 
 where Caesar or JEneas or Hector fought, a field of con- 
 quest or defeat. 
 
 The objection, which I have supposed to be made, by 
 a large proportion of my hundred readers, to this little 
 scene of episodic warfare, may perhaps be made to other 
 passages of my poem, which it is not so easy for me to 
 divine. All, however, which I venture to request, in 
 such a case, is, that, before condemnation, they will have 
 the goodness to reflect on the sort of poetry, to which 
 the specimen submitted to them belongs. 
 
 Above all, I trust, that, before objecting to the gene- 
 ral conduct of the poem, or its general style, they will 
 not forget how much it is the very essence of such po- 
 etry, to give a gay importance to very little matters, 
 and how necessary it is, that the style, in this respect, 
 should harmonise with the light and sportive solemnities 
 of which it treats. 
 
 On this accordance of style, however, the force of 
 which, as an essential charm of versification, seems to 
 me not sufficiently understood, I may perhaps, even at 
 
PREFACE. XXXI 
 
 the close of a preface already too long, be permitted to 
 O flfer a very few remarks. 
 
 All, I presume, have felt at times, in the perusal of 
 our best poets, the delight afforded by what is termed 
 imitative harmony, when the sound, as it has been aptly 
 said, is "an echo to the sense." The harmony of which 
 I speak, however, is something- far more comprehensive 
 than this mere occasional imitation. Such remarkable 
 accordances are of course sparingly used, and reserved 
 for the most striking circumstances in the narrative OP 
 description : since, if frequent, they would not merely 
 interrupt too much the natural flow of the rhythm, but 
 would betray a laborious search of concords, that would 
 bring the very labour painfully before the reader's mind. 
 What is commonly termed imitative harmony is then, as I 
 have said, of rare occurrence. But there is a fainter 
 and more shadowy harmony with the general subject, 
 which, as I conceive, should be throughout the poem the 
 directing spirit of the verse, a harmony which does 
 not make itself remarkable in particular lines, but is felt 
 as a whole, in the continued strain, or rather is scarcely 
 appreciated as a separate element, even by those whom 
 it delights, but is distinguishable only by the few, who 
 not content with being simply pleased, are in the habit 
 of analysing their very pleasures. In some tale of mili- 
 tary conflict, for example, the accordance of the strain 
 is not to be in a single line or two only, that may imitate 
 
XXXlL PREFACE. 
 
 tbe rushing 1 of cavalry, or the clashing of swords, or the 
 thunder of the mightier engines of modern war ; but the 
 whole style should partake of the character of the impe- 
 tuous feelings described, and of the feelings that rise 
 by sympathy in the mind of the reader. It should com- 
 prehend much action in little space ; the metrical 
 rhythm should be frequently broken ; and the words 
 themselves, which constitute the rhythm, be less chosen 
 for softness than for force. The -whtfe may thus have a 
 harmony that is truly imitative, though there may not be 
 a single line, or portion of a line, to which a common 
 critic would think of applying the term. But the spe- 
 cies of separate sounds themselves, and the order of 
 their collocation, which might be the best suited for a 
 description so tumultuous, are surely not the best that 
 could be selected for describing the elegant frivolities of 
 the toilet, and all that gentle warfare for which the toilet 
 prepares. The lines may have the same number of syl- 
 lables ; but he must indeed have little poetic discrimina- 
 tion, who does not feel, that, with the same number of 
 syllabic sounds, there should still be in these sounds a 
 rhythmical variety of some sort, to mark and harmonise 
 with the diversity of theme. What is thus indisputably 
 true of the flow of sound is not less true of the flow of 
 sentiment and fancy, which should glide softly, or rusk 
 along, with a corresponding diversity of movement. A 
 series of the harshest syllables> descriptive of the repose 
 
PREFACE. XXX111 
 
 and tender conversation of two lovers, would scarcely 
 violate more the harmony of which I speak, than a quick 
 desertion of image for image, and thought for thought. 
 The thief harmony, in short, is not with sounds, or other 
 external qualities, but with the internal emotions ; and 
 as these are gay, or soft, or impetuous, the whole cha- 
 racter of the strain, is to be impetuous, or soft, or gay. 
 The hurry of images in a great poet's description of a 
 battle, is only reflective of the hurrying feelings, in the 
 minds of the warring multitude : but he has surely 
 feelings of a very different kind to reflect, if the war- 
 fare which he sings be that of looks and tones. His 
 strain, however, is in the one case, as much as in the 
 other, to be accordant with the emotions which it paints. 
 Instead of the brief and rapid transitions from great ob- 
 jects to greater, from the conflicts of heroes to the shock 
 of Gods themselves, where all is the violence of the 
 sword or the thunderbolt, there should be a varying but 
 ever faithful semblance of the sprightliness, with which 
 Beauty enlivens even wit itself, of the gentle languor, 
 with which Beauty smiles, or of the minute care, with 
 which she brings forward grace after grace, to play and 
 conquer, in the little field, to which the power of those 
 graces is limited. A gay or soft diffusiveness, therefore, 
 far from being a blemish in such a style, is occasionally 
 its happiest grace. It is, in short, the wish of the poet, 
 to excite, as much as his art allows him, such feelings 
 
XXXIV PREFACE, 
 
 as are av 1 by the presence of Beauty herself; and 
 
 his verse he images which his verse presents, that 
 
 are the < I; jans of his art, must conspire in the de- 
 lightful c vith according influence. 
 
 It was owever, the nature of my subject only, 
 
 which 11." consider, on determining the style that 
 would su_. *, wUt the sort of audience also which I im- 
 agined before me. It must be remembered, that, in my 
 poem, I describe myself as addressing the Fair, and the 
 Fair alone. What then is the style which such an au- 
 dience supposes ? It is the style of one, who delights at 
 once in the subject which he treats, and in the presence 
 of those who are listening to him, who dwells therefore 
 gladly on his theme, and who, if he sometimes trifle 
 with his lyre, is slow to quit its strings, only because 
 there are those around, from whom> when he has ceased, 
 he must be condemned to part. 
 
 Such are the circumstances, which I have endeavour- 
 ed, in the management of my poem, to keep constantly 
 in view. I cannot expect my readers to have them as 
 constantly in mind : but they will perhaps forgive me, 
 if I again venture to entreat, that, when they pause to 
 criticise either the conduct of the action, or the general 
 diction and flow of the thought or of the verse, they wilj 
 reflect, that the character in which the Poet professes 
 to speak is that of the Poet of Woman, that he is sup- 
 posed to be addressing Woman and Woman only, and 
 
PREFACE. XXXV 
 
 addressing her on adventures of which she is the he- 
 roine, and on charms and graces, which it is the whole 
 history of her beauty to have exercised with failure or 
 
THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. THE POET. 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 Subject proposed. Ambition to be considered as the 
 Poet of Woman. Prophetic hopes of its fulfilment.- 
 Omens in early life of future devotion 'o the love and 
 praise of the Fair. Pleasure felt in infancy at the 
 smile of Female Beauty. First lispings of verse in its 
 praise. Love of those Fairy Tales, to which the ad- 
 ventures of a heroine gave interest. Discovery of the 
 Metamprphoses of Ovid. Effects of the perusal of 
 that Poem. Milton's Eve. The Planet Venus, Re- 
 membrances after Death. 
 
THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 THE POET. 
 
 WHAT new delights the mortal Belle await, 
 When eyes all-conquering yield at last to fate ; 
 In what gay bowers she leads her train above, 
 Charms, and forgets all sublunary love, 
 I sing. Ye Fair, whose hearts, tho' swift to glow? 
 As yet have warm'd but at an earthly Beau, 
 With sweet attentive smiles around me throng, 
 And love the Poet, while ye list the song ! 
 
 POET OF WOMAN,- for that proudest name, 
 I leave the contest of all meaner fame. 
 Let Man, the niggard of a chill renown, 
 For fools who court it, save his laurel crown ; 
 Unworthy he of rapture, who would pay 
 
40 THE POET. [FART i. 
 
 One leaf of myrtle tor whole wreaths of bay. 
 
 Ne'er shall he know to win a tender sigh, 
 
 "Who trembles at each -wrinkling critic's eye : 
 
 The strain which bids the varying Passion start, 
 
 Must seek its triumph only from the heart. 
 
 One look, ye Fair ! his happy fate secures, 
 
 Who asks no smile, and dreads no frown, but yours. 
 
 Votive to you, my lyre of myrtle flings 
 No sound of horror from its silken strings j 
 Bids no stern Major sterner Majors meet, 
 Nor softest Ensign gasp, but at your feet. 
 Tho* gentle ears the wild tumultuous breath 
 Of sighs, and savage metaphors of death, 
 Low murmuring moans, that buz along the dance. 
 When Lord or Lordling fails at every glance, 
 Can list insatiate, even the murderous eye 
 Would shrink from battles, where 'tis death to die ; 
 Where Beaux, with more than love's short blindness dark,, 
 Lose, with their eyes, the power aU eyes to mark ; 
 And heroes, graceful in the mazy strife, 
 Lopt of their limbs and glory, limp for life : 
 While Bards, twice butchering, every wound rehearse, 
 And softly teach anatomy in verse. 
 Of harmless wars be mine to sing the field, 
 Where even the vanquish'd conquer while they yield, 
 
PART I.] THE POET. 
 
 X 
 
 Wounds, which on purest cambric leave no stain, 
 And eyes which, tho* they frown, can smile again! 
 
 Such be my song 1 ! to timid Woman dear, 
 Such ever be the song which claims her ear I- 
 So, with unstudied rapture o'er my page 
 Shall bend the brightest eyes of every age, 
 There dwell, unmindful of the evening's show, 
 Forgot the plume, the tissue, and the beau. 
 While gloves the prayer-book but on Sundays cross, 
 And stiff-bound bibles never lose their gloss, 
 Quick-opening leaves my ready tome shall speak 
 The dearer daily ritual of the week. 
 Amid those leaves, as oft to be survey'd. 
 Some lover's treasurM rhymings shall be laid, 
 The first sweetbillet which reveal'd his sigh, 
 And all which Love makes sense to Beauty's eye. 
 
 When novels weary, or, all duly done, 
 The ruthless sire appeas'd, the daughter won, 
 When marriage, closing each delightful strife, 
 Leaves the dull husband yawning with his wife, 
 Still with new rapture shall my page succeed,* 
 And languid eyes turn brighter while they read. 
 D 2 
 
42 THE POET. [PART i. 
 
 Oft in the crowded rout, when, spite of guile, 
 The spreading numbness creeps o'er every smile, 
 When eyes, that fain would sparkle, 'mid the ring 1 
 Have said a thousand times the same dull thing, 
 Some happier Belle shall quote my tender line, 
 And Beaux, who never read shall know it mine. 
 
 Think not, ye sweet awarders of my doom ! 
 When proud I claim one title for my tomb, 
 More dear than kings and heralds give and guard, 
 To live* and die, your WORSHIPPER and BAUD, 
 Think not, with boastful suit, that claim I dare, 
 Without one omen to approve my prayer ! 
 Tho* round my brow no hallowing myrtle spread, 
 Nor turtles perch'd upon my infant head ; 
 To my young heart the early passion givjen 
 Was surer presage of inspiring heaven. 
 
 Even in those infant hours, when life appears 
 Nought but one laugh and sob of smiles and tears, 
 When long my cradle's noisy mtirmur ran, 
 And vain the sooth ings, vain the threats of man, 
 With what calm joy 1 sunk at once to rest, 
 Lull'd by soft -woman'' $ smile, on woman's breast. 
 
PART I.] THE POET. 43 
 
 And ye, that, sacred to that gentle gaze, 
 Catch all your sweetness from the charms ye praise, 
 Hymns of the melting heart, to which I owe 
 Whate'er, in absence, can a bliss bestow ! 
 No common fire, that warms the infant dream, 
 Bade my first accents murmur to your theme. 
 Ere art the tender charm of verse could teach, 
 When my short voice but lisp'd its feeble speech, 
 I rhym'd, and sure 'twas passion from above 
 That breath'd the numbers, for I rhym'd of love, 
 Oft, in my little lap when gifts were flung, 
 Has Beauty laugh'd and listen'd while I sung -, 
 For, of the sweetmeat or the toy remiss, 
 I only hail'd the giver and the kiss. 
 
 Tales of my nursery! shall that still-lov'd spot 
 That window corner ever be forgot, 
 Where, thro' the woodbine when with upward ray 
 Gleam'd the last shadows of departing day, 
 Still did I sit, and, with unwearied eye, 
 Read while I wept, and scarcely paus'd to sigh ! 
 In that gay drawer, with fairy fictions stor'd, 
 When some new tale was added to my hoard, 
 While o'er each page my eager glance was flung-, 
 Twasbut to learn, what/emofe fate was 
 
4* THE POET. [PART 
 
 If no sad maid the castle shut from light, 
 I heeded not the giant and the knight. 
 
 Sweet Cinderella, even before the ball, 
 How did I love thee, ashes, rags, and all ! 
 What bliss I deem'd it to have stood beside, 
 On every virgin when thy shoe was tried; 
 How long'd to see thy shape the slipper suit ; 
 But, dearer than the slipper, lov'd the foot ! 
 
 Thanks, gentle Ovid ! thanks be to thy care, 
 That, best of wealth, has multiplied the fair, 
 Call'd even from heaven, a race of brighter power, 
 And given a goddess to each mortal bower. 
 Olympus half descends ; and every glade 
 Sees forms celestial languish in its shade. 
 Like gentle Woman, blest with hearts that melt, 
 Here airy nymphs have sigh'd while shepherds knelt, 
 Or, bolder oft, to kneel when shepherds fail'd, 
 Have woo'd, like gentle Woman, and prevail'd. 
 The king of heaven, who shakes it with his nod, 
 In sweet mortality has mask'd the god ; 
 And, rival of the flame that warms my lyre, 
 Left all his incense a for a dearer fire. 
 Blest be the tales, whose bright examples teach, 
 With holy power, the faithful truths I preach ; 
 
PART I.] THE POET. 45 
 
 For sure, to vie with Gods if virtue's test, 
 Who vows at Beauty's feet has worshipp'd best, 
 
 Boldest of tell-tales, that to mortal eye 
 Giv'st the sofi scandal of the laughing sky ! 
 How dear that far-pust day, when first, by chance, 
 Thy pictur'd miracles detain'd my glance ! 
 *Twas in that room, scarce known to sun and air, 
 Still call'd the Study, tho' no student there ; 
 Where, but one day in seven with books perplext, 
 The chaplain sought his sermon with his text, 
 And still the shortest, which his hand might trace, 
 His weary hand, ere dinner call'd to grace ; 
 There, hid in dust, beneath the cobweb'd store 
 Of reverend tomes, as heavy as their lore, 
 I found, and, while he slumber'd off the toil 
 Of two long periods, bore away my spoil. 
 With what insatiate hope my gaze I fed, 
 And, wondering still, yet trusted all I read ! 
 And while undoubting from the verse I drew 
 Joys, loves, and fears, and wishes, all how new, 
 Where'er I glanc'd Olympus seem'd to rise ; 
 Nurse Rachel's self a. goddess in disguise. 
 Yet ah ! tho' now a Woman's form she wore, 
 My rose-cheek'd cousin might be mine no more. 
 What terror, when, each tale of wonder done t 
 
46 THE POET. [PART i. 
 
 The fate of thousand nymphs I fear'd for one ! 
 
 Some god might sue and though, in careless pride, 
 
 With every god a rival by my side, 
 
 Her love I safe had trusted, sure to see 
 
 Immortal suppliants scorn M, and scorn'd for me t 
 
 Yet might their vengeance strike each frailer part 
 
 And change her charms, that could not change her heart 
 
 That very eve, when she, whom oft to greet 
 A welcome guest I ran with ready feet, 
 Too long a stranger, to a home of joy 
 Return'd, and sought with early glance her boy; 
 Clasp'd on her knee once more, and smil'dto own 
 Her little fondling on his favourite throne ; 
 Even on that happy seat, while gay I press'd 
 The bending lip, caressing and caress'd, 
 How did I tremble lest some jealous power, 
 To a chill leaf should turn that living flower ! 
 How oft I almost fancied from her charms 
 A sudden foliage rustling in my arms, 
 And starting, while a doubtful glance T rais'd, 
 Felt even her kiss turn colder, as I gaz'dl 
 
 Dire was the terror :-yet, how wildly dear, 
 What wishes more than paid that sing-le fear; 
 Hopes, at whose boyish faith my sager skill 
 
PART I.] THE POET. 47 
 
 Laughs -without scorn, and almost owns them still, 
 False as light visions that in slumber wave, 
 Yet O! how real in the joy they gave. 
 
 Then deathlike solitude, so drear before, 
 With not one smiler nigh, was dull no more. 
 O lawns, O green recesses, O ye streams, 
 That still have known me, from my infant dreams, 
 Where Love, my childhood's playmate, 'mid your dells 
 Laugh' d, and with idle wings delighted dwells ! 
 Tho* now the witness of a fonder flame, 
 And hallow'd long by Woman's sacred name, 
 Ye then were conscious, when my upfix'd eyes 
 Oft sought, and hop'd, a mistress from the skies, 
 Where'er I vagrant loiter'd, or, embower'd, 
 Fled the full blaze which sultry Summer shower'd, 
 The strange ambition to my fancy spoke, 
 And sooth'd my dream, still present when 1 woke. 
 
 Where, widening sudden into day, the glade 
 Drinks the full sun, \\hile all around is shade, 
 And, humming 'mid the furze, the bees that roam 
 Seem shut for ever from the vale and home ; 
 On that warm turfy circle careless spread, 
 While the long fern wav'd coolness o'er my head, 
 And still preserved, tho' Spring's sweet blooms had died., 
 
48 THE POET. [PART i, 
 
 One cowslip fresh, that blossom'd at its side, 
 
 How oft, when, rustling in the breeze, a sound 
 
 Stirr'd the deep woods, that almost clos'd around., 
 
 With quick expectance, starting from my trance, 
 
 I watch J d the moving shade, with busy glance ! 
 
 Perhaps, for me, some goddess might assume 
 
 A mortal guise, and issue from the gloom, 
 
 No full-grown Deity, of proud controul, 
 
 That with the Thunderer shares the nectar bowl- 
 
 But, meeter softness for my vows and arms, 
 
 Some infant Grace, just budding into charms, 
 
 That sports with Cupid, in the bowers above, 
 
 And bandages his eyes, and feeds his dove. 
 
 Ah ! soon were hush'd the woods no footstep near ' 
 
 Yet watch'd my gaze, and clos'd but with a tear. 
 
 The murmuring wave, that 'mid the hazles flow'd, 
 I deem'd some sighing Naiad's soft abode j 
 And tho' before, to gain the distant hill, 
 "With scornful speed I wont to leap the rill ; 
 There duteous oft, at noon and vesper beam, 
 1 lov'd to bathe and linger in the stream. 
 
 Wild transports f Yet, tho' fled the trusting hour. 
 Not vain the madness of so sweet a power, 
 
PART I.] THE POET. 49 
 
 That but prepar'd a worship, more divine, 
 O better Goddess, Woman ! when 'twas thine> 
 
 And still I bless the influence, still I feel 
 A sweet enchantment linger from the zeal. 
 Tho' chang'd that mute devotion, dearer now 
 I/ips, that can smile warm answers to my vow. 
 While Love the grateful lesson has imprest, 
 To give my life to those who charm it best ; 
 Yet when, in strains that half-anbidden rise, 
 I sing the power divine of mortal eyes ; 
 As still a softer inspiration spread, 
 Where first thy wonders , gentle Bard ! were read, 
 Those walks are dearest, which thy visions knew, 
 And the mad wishes, even in madness true, 
 When, with a heart that glow'd to wake and live, 
 I sought from Heaven, what Earth was rich to give, 
 These elms that shade me still, long mark'd above 
 With many a name, and many a rhyme of love, 
 Beheld me studious stretch'd when half the day 
 I stole, and secret fed upon thy lay. 
 Not that I paus'd on all t thy tales unfold* 
 Even nymphs I scorn'd, if nymphs were proud and cold 
 1 lov'd not Juno's royal airs divine ; 
 Nay, tho' a poet, scarce could name the Nine, 
 K 
 
50 THE POET. [PART T. 
 
 I car'd not, tho' a Muse had never been '; 
 But well I knew the Graces, and their Queen. 
 
 And thou, O glory of the British art 1 
 Who blind to beauty^feit'st it at thy heart ; 
 Inspir'd of Love, who knew'st so well to 'trace 
 The soft majestic mother of our race ! 
 Tho' my warm soul assented to thy fame, 
 Oft have I marvelPd at thy poem's name. 
 What tho' our sire was driven from Edeji's bovvers, 
 Lost a few idle fruits, and idler flowers, 
 Still, in his Eve, tho' of ten Edens reft, 
 Was sweeter Paradise, than all he left. 
 'Twas but a Garden and so cheap the cost, 
 A garden, for a smile, were nobly lost. 
 
 On one fair planet, when along the sky 
 With early wonder rov'd my boyish eye, 
 Still did it fix ; and sure, if signs portend, 
 That love, O Woman ! mark'd me for thy friend. 
 Let Mars on Epic rhymers gleam afar ! 
 Who follows Venus, hails a brighter star. 
 
 And that sweet star, which life's best radiance gave, 
 The star of Beauty, still shall light my grave. 
 O ! when this heart, which throbs but to adore. 
 
PART I.] THE POET. 51 
 
 Shall breathe one constant prayer, and thrill no more, 
 When looks, which once could double life, shall speak, 
 Nor one pale rapture flush along my cheek, 
 O ! will ye then my frequent thought renew, 
 True to his memory, who in death was true ? 
 So, tho' no marble Seraph seem to rise, 
 Cold from my tomb to guide me to the skies, 
 Warm living angels there shall bend, and shed 
 The tears I love, upon my conscious bed. 
 There> if the simplest wild flower of the spring 
 Thro* the low grass its dewy radiance fling, 
 Soft hands shall stoop, the hallow'd gem to bear, 
 Yet almost shrink, and start, to pluck it there. 
 And when some other lyre when mine is mute 
 Shall to these strains its votive numbers suit, 
 Catch all the worship, and, with sweeter song, 
 But not with fonder heart, the theme prolong; 
 When the proud bard the glowing verse shall swell, 
 And Beauty hang attentive o'er his shell, 
 Even while she smiles delighted, and repays 
 The tuneful homage with her warmest gaze, 
 A sudden sadness to her eye shall start, 
 And strains, long lov'd, shall float around her heart. 
 The master's hand shall pause: his glance shall see 
 The half-hid tear; and know 'twas given for me. 
 
THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 THE ABJURATION OF COQUETRY, 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 Address to Morning. Defence of the late hours of Fa- 
 shionable Beauty. Opposite offices which Morning 
 performs to the high and low ranks of life. The dawn 
 of day in London. Return of Zephyra from an evening 
 party. Her reflections on the disappointments and 
 slights which she had suffered. A Masquerade. A 
 Private Concert. A Ball. A lover attracted. Unsus- 
 pected appearance of a former favoured Lover. En- 
 trance of a rival Beauty. Her success in carrying off 
 Zephyra's admirer. Picture of a diminutive fopling. 
 Supper. Dance renewed after Supper. Advantage of 
 going very late to Parties. A farewel to all the arts 
 and pleasures of Coquetry. Inadequacy of those plea- 
 sures to compensate the anxieties and disappointments 
 which attend them. Happier life of her whose love is 
 confined to one. Resolution to imitate that life. The 
 tolemn voio of abjuration. 
 
 E 2 
 
THE 
 
 ABJURATION OF COQUETRY. 
 
 SWEET hour of morn, whose half-creative ray 
 Calls the fresh world exulting into day, 
 When every bird is song 1 , and every bloom, 
 That breathes along the valley is perfume ! 
 Let rustic maids, still faithful to thy power, 
 Gay as the bird, and rosy as the flower, 
 Attend the matin hymn ! Thy beam shall rise 
 Unhail'd, unworshipp'd, by politer eyes. 
 Her pallet, tho* the village girl forsakes, 
 Whose simple day is that which Nature makes, 
 Hastes to her field, while larks are first in air, 
 And finds her cows, and earlier lover, there ; 
 Shall Beauty, whom light hours of angels suit, 
 Watch, eat, and slumber, with the clown and brute? 
 
56 THE ABJURATION [PART XI, 
 
 No ! from the ceiling let the lustre fall, 
 And silver radiance stream along the wall ! 
 Pure as the light of heaven's ethereal day, 
 Which sees no wretch, and shines but on the gay ; 
 'Mid pearls, and gems, and plumes o'er plumes that 
 
 swell, 
 
 And fans that flutter to the laughing Belle, 
 Let starry lamps a softened splendour throw 
 On all the fair magnificence below ; 
 Teach every eye more languid love to speak, 
 The mellow'd rouge to live along the cheek, 
 Warm the cold stucco'd brow, and half assuage 
 With second charms the tyranny of age ! 
 
 When glares the fiercer sun, his sight to guard, 
 Love folds his pinions ; and all hearts are hard : 
 But, in the lustre's gentle blaze, he flies 
 With busy wing, nor shuts his timid eyes ; 
 And the coy fair, who met each glance with dread, 
 Melts like the wax that glows above her head. 
 Such hours not frowning Sages can condemn : 
 They vigils keep, and Beauty copies them. 
 
 And thou, O bearer of the morning ray ! 
 Thou too, the charm of Beauty shalt obey. 
 Duteous as Night, that comes not till she call. 
 
PART II.] OF COQ.UETRY 57 
 
 Late at the Rout, and later at the Ball ; 
 
 Thou, all her sweet caprices to fulfil, 
 
 Shalt suit thy varying office to her will. 
 
 Tho' to the world of toil, their slumber done, 
 
 Thou haste, the bright companion of the sun ; 
 
 Haste, the still lazy eyelid to restrain, 
 
 With Noise and busy Hurry in thy train ; 
 
 At Beauty's couch, thou tak'st thy peaceful stand, 
 
 The sleepy poppy nodding in thy hand, 
 
 Draw'st the close silk, which gloom yet deeper throws, 
 
 And seem'st the Queen of darkness and repose. 
 
 'Tis dawn, Yet London's ever-clouded sky 
 Still wraps her alleys from the Morning's eye, 
 Stillj with kind smoke, detains the sluggish Night, 
 And guards awhile the wretch that shuns the light, 
 Now all, whom guilt or pleasure bade to roam 
 With hours inverted, seek alike their home. 
 To cells whose gentle echoes nought confess, 
 Save oaths and mirth, the curse and the caress, 
 With tawdry charms unwoo'd, and weary feet, 
 Retire the last pale lingerers of the street, 
 And in the coach, with flaunting torches gay, 
 Meet homeward Belles, more weary still than they. 
 
58 THE ABJURATION [PART II. 
 
 The thundering peal has ceased. The chariot bends 
 Its triple footstep : and the fair descends.- 
 Now sullen John his faithful comrades guides 
 To the low roof, which all his fondness hides, 
 Where equailove awakes no jealous strife 
 Home of his child, his horses, dog, and wife. 
 Glad haste the steeds, and know their journey o'er- 
 Ah steeds, unconscious of the charms ye bore ! 
 
 Why, on her ottoman forgetful laid, 
 Why calls not Zephyra her Susan's aid ? 
 Susan, who, skill'd to raise and to destroy, 
 The quick artificer of charms and joy, 
 Like sages, who, if Nature burst her law, 
 Could hear worlds crash, nor stop the unfinish'd saw, 
 At eve 'mid silken ruins calmly stands, 
 The careful fabrics of her morning hands. 
 Iler's is the mighty anodyne, the skill 
 To mix sweet truths with falsehoods sweeter still, 
 Tho' bright the gem, that brighter grace to find, 
 Which makes the brilliant fatal to mankind, 
 And, while the lovely victor she unarms, 
 .Still nurse with present praise to-morrow's charms. 
 Blest hour, when Beauty, ere she sleep can say, 
 Now come to-morrow : I have charm'd to day. 
 
PART II.] OF COQUETRY. 59 
 
 Why does the bell its wonted call forbear ? 
 Why speeds not Susan from her cards or prayer ? 
 Ah t think too gentle Susan ! nor the while 
 Trust thy strong- virtue to that stronger smile ! 
 Frank, like his master, knows sweet vows to weave 
 And Frank, tho' not a Colonel, can deceive. 
 
 <( Was it for this'* the fair in murmurs broke 
 A sigh, half finished mingling as she spoke 
 " For this, when ^jed the Countess and Her Grace 
 With busy canvass, for a single face, 
 And, not content in colder form to ask, 
 Half woo'd me to. the Concert or the Masque? 
 Was it for this, 1 heedless scorn' d them all, 
 And chose O fool to choose the simple Ball f 
 t Why, since some evil still our joy invades, 
 Why is not foresight given to mortal maids ? 
 
 O ! had I rather join'd the motley throng 
 Of crowns and cowls, the sermon and the song, 
 Seen every age assume the freakish fit 
 And heard what folly fools can reckon wit : 
 Where, tho' the face be mask'd, the mind is spied, 
 That glaring part which never mask could hide 
 And mighty heirs of acres and renown 
 Appear, what nature meant them, /bo/, or clown f 
 
60 THE ABJURATION [PART IT. 
 
 While Nymphs, who never read Minerva's fame s 
 Still know themselves a goddess by the name, 
 And, tho' unskill'd in action to express 
 The Power of Wisdom, shew her by her dress, 
 That easy mark, which asks but vulgar eyes 9 
 While darker wit speaks only to the wise. 
 Even then for tho' my smile were hid from view, 
 Still ray whole air might smile, and might subdue, 
 Kings, Sultans, Gods, 1 might have taught to bow, 
 Nor sigh'd Ah wretch, to think and sigh, as now ! 
 
 " Nay, to the concert rather had I stray'd, 
 Tho' force'd to. listen while the Duchess play'd, 
 To hear, in vain, her harp still tun'd and strung-, 
 And list O Powers of Music ! while she sung. 
 Sung Italy's soft strains, with British squeak; 
 No songs, but " dear Italia's," fit to shriek ! 
 O Roman words, to Roman ears unknown ! 
 O airs, which even their authors could not own! 
 While the tir'd band, whose fiddlesticks must pause, 
 Shrink, and with smile of torture look applause! 
 What tho' to her the listless eye were rais'd, 
 And a dull stupor look'd as tho' it gaz'd, 
 Tho', heavier than with sleep, had yawn'd the hour.. 
 That very langour had increas'd my power. 
 Some youth, his ears delighted to be free, 
 
PART II.] OF COQUETRY. 61 
 
 Had felt it doubly sweet to list to me ; 
 
 And waking to the joy anew, my face 
 
 Had owed O strange ! a rapture to Her Grace. 
 
 " Detested Ball ! with hopes so soon to fade, 
 What demon could seduce a gentle maid ! 
 Yet who but must have trusted hopes so fair, 
 The gala crowded, and the Colonel there ! 
 He, for whose glance the Rout, the Opera, pine, 
 Whom smile could never fix, might yield to mine 
 For well I heard and I could trust the tale- 
 How at the birthday, when my cheek grew pale, 
 And the old Viscount, courteous as of yore, 
 With the quick gallantry of gay threescore, 
 Led me, half sinking, thro* the opening rings 
 Of swords, and epaulets, and stars, and strings^ 
 Sadgaz'd the brightest of the glittering band, 
 And much my rufile prais'd, and more my hand 
 If thus, all cumbrous, in that swell of dress, 
 I swooning vanquish'd, could the Ball do less ? 
 How did I hope to vex a thousand eyes ! 
 O glorious malice, dearer than the prize ! 
 Yet well was taught my brow that pride serene, 
 Which looks no triumph, where no doubt had been. 
 That easy scorn, all tranquil as before, 
 Which speaks no insult, and insults the more, 
 F 
 
62 THE ABJURATION [PART II. 
 
 And with calm air, the surest to torment, 
 Steals angry spite's last comfort, to resent. 
 
 " Why was the triumph given ? Too flattering joy ! 
 Frail hour, \vhich one frail minute could destroy ! 
 He came hope ! He hasten'd to my seat ; 
 I saw, and almost dream'd him at my feet. 
 Close by my side, a gay attendant slave, 
 The glance, which thousands sought, to none he gave, 
 Scarce bovv'd to nodding bevies, when we walk'd, 
 Smil'd, when I smil'd, and talk'd, and laugh'd, and talk'd, 
 Held my light fan with more than woman's grace, 
 And shook the tiny zephyr o'er my face. 
 Why did I heedless trust the flattering sign, 
 As if no fan he e'er had broke but mine ! 
 Ah simple fool ! Yet wherefore nurse the smart > 
 The bauble he may break, but not my heart. 
 
 u Even then, when, smiling to some gay reply. 
 Ere yet the laugh was hush'd I rais'd my eye, 
 And saw What midnight spectre ever shone 
 So pale, so wild, so hideous? saw sir John, 
 That virtuous paragon, who knows no sin, 
 My latest conquest, and most hard to win, 
 To whom, for three long weeks, a perfect sage, 
 I played the sober gravities of age, 
 
PAKT II.] OF COQUETRY. 63 
 
 Preach'd what on Sundays, yawning nights of dread 
 
 My holy aunt thro' spectacles had read, 
 
 Of sweeter smiles than giddy Beaux have given, 
 
 The smile of conscience, and the smile of Heaven, 
 
 Of wealth to all but to its owners sent. 
 
 And the dear duties of a life of Lent ; 
 
 Some wonder still at Woman's wicked ways, 
 
 And grave rebuke of these declining days, 
 
 And ever added, as all joys above, 
 
 Some dovelike sentiment of constant love ;- 
 
 When sudden to my eye O sight unfear'd ! 
 
 That face, that formidable face, appeared, 
 
 With look that, sad and speechless as a ghost, 
 
 Yet seem'd to say Is this thy virtue's boast ? 
 
 Even then tho' paus'd my tongue, afraid to speak, 
 
 And something like a blush half-cross'd my cheek, 
 
 Soon to the air the passing cloud I cast ; 
 
 The Colonel's smile was gayer than the last; 
 
 And Love, alas! tho 5 warm, so soon grows cold 
 
 With a new swain before me and an old, 
 
 J bravely chose as kings and heroes do < 
 
 And risked the ancient conquest, for a new. 
 
 " Ah, conquest risk'din vain! Provoking fate, 
 That Flavia came, and that she came so late, 
 Just enter'd, when, tho' sweet to say and hear, 
 
64 THE ABJURATION [PART II. 
 
 The flagging nonsese ask'd another ear, 
 
 And smiles and well-shewn attitudes might fly, 
 
 And seem new graces to another eye. 
 
 New eyes, new ears, she brought. Ah cruel change ! 
 
 My heart was fix'd ; yet man, the wretch, could range, 
 
 " At widows' wailings well may poets scoff, 
 Why should she come, to shew her weeds were off*! 
 To change a dress is no such mighty part ; 
 And none e'er thought she wore her crape at heart. 
 
 " O, if content some other to prefer, 
 His eye had turn'd to any flirt but her, 
 Tho' lost the traitor, I had still been gay, 
 Still laugh'd, and smil'd, and shone the slight away. 
 But of the shame what comfort was there left, 
 When Flavia was the thief, and knew the theft ; 
 She who, to steal one conquest of my charms, 
 Woo'd him 'twas more than whisper'd to her arms, 
 And, fearful of my power, to fix her right, 
 Won him to wed, and married him in spite. 
 
 i( When to the supper-hall we mov'd along, 
 Why was I doomed to face her in the throng ! 
 With what provoking kindness did she stand, 
 And loose her arm from his, to press my hand, 
 
PART II.] OF COQUETRY. 65 
 
 And beg", with well-feign'd sympathy, to know 
 Of headaches which I felt three months ago ! 
 T smil'd, with looks which all my soul convey'd 
 O ! had they but the power which bards have said 1 
 
 ff What tho', as if unweeting of my shame, 
 The little Marquis all obsequious, came, 
 Mid giants, venturous, gave his arm to guide, 
 Less by the head, and rear'd him by my side, 
 With brilliant finger, made to be ador'd, 
 And gallant thumb, that daring cross'd the hoard, 
 The ice and jelly graceful gave to sip, 
 Eternal nothings dimpling from his lip : 
 Till then, I knew not fops could have oppress'd, 
 Nor felt how hard to laugh without a jest ! 
 
 " Yet even that hour could end. He saw advance 
 The ready throng, and call'd me to the dance. 
 Fool, did I think, that steps which never cease, 
 And arms unwearied, shew a mind at peace ! 
 Alas ! too well with inward tumult suit 
 The dash and hurry of the busy foot. 
 With what impetuous grace the train I led, 
 And press'd the floor, with more than woman's tread ; 
 As, if, with every step, my heart, more gay, 
 Could fling the burthen of its grief away ! 
 F 2 
 
66 THE ABJURATION [PART H. 
 
 Yet was I doom'd to wait the music's flow; 
 Sure never lazy music was so slow ; 
 And, tho' well-skill'd my swain the tune to meet, 
 Still slower than the music seem'd his feet. 
 
 t( Whydanc'd not Flavia ? What in her could see 
 That faithless trifler, to prefer to me ! 
 Tho' bloomier radiance on her cheek had shin'd, 
 A shop in Bond-street is not hard to find ; 
 And, long before she bar'd her snowy arm, 
 All knew that magic powders have a charm. 
 If eyes like his can think her roses grow, 
 That glass he dangles is not worn for show* 
 
 Ah ! had /gone as late ! Could Fortune's power 
 Invent no kind mischance to waste an hour! 
 Even cruel miracles she work'd in spite: 
 La Fleur, the false, could keep his word that night 
 
 ! had he, tho' with loose and untrick'd hair, 
 
 1 might have storm'd and fretted, in despair, 
 Had he, as wont, for ten but counted nine> 
 Sought Flavia's toilet first, then come to mine, 
 Or had What care I for a diamond's cost 
 This bauble crescent been mislaid or lost, 
 
 Or from my chariot, as with thundering zeal 
 It flashed along, but flown one noisy wheel, 
 
PART II.] OF COQUETRY. 67 
 
 Then had I enter'd latest of the proud, 
 And walk'd, and look'd, and conquer'd, thro* the crowd, 
 The Colonel would have vied^ in smiles and praise, 
 Nor Flavia's bloom been lefi one coxcomb's gaze. 
 
 " Ah wisdom dearly purchas'd ! Yet even fate 
 Can teach one useful lesson, to be late ,- 
 So shall my eyes their easy spoil secure, 
 And every triumph be, tho' shorter sure; 
 No idle moment left for falsehood's tricks, 
 Love must be true, and even the fickle fix ! 
 With my fresh smile in vain shall envy strive; 
 And yawning Beaux shall see me and revive. 
 
 " No ! Hence away, ye dear delusive arts, 
 Ye anxious aims at ever-flying- hearts ! 
 Farewel each look and sound of labour'd guile, 
 The mirthless titter, and the joyless smile, 
 The glance, that, ever ready to be gone, 
 Now roves o'er crowds, now languishes on one, 
 Praise of the Beau, and malice of the Belle, 
 Dear wit, and dearer folly, all farewel. 
 
 "No more forme shall conquests fill the hour, 
 With all the sweet anxieties of power, 
 To win some yet unvanquish'd lover's sigh, 
 
68 THE ABJUEATION [PAKT IT, 
 
 Or stay the parting rebel, ere he fly, 
 
 That power, whose dearer myrtle wand to hold, 
 
 Even sceptred empresses forget their gold. 
 
 No more, my entrance hail'd with instant fame, 
 
 Shall the long rout run murmuring with my name, 
 
 Or rivals, eager for my hand, advance, 
 
 And woo, not horrid marriage, but the dance, 
 
 Still, where I glide, a full voic'd crowd be found, 
 
 Tho' feebly buz the half-fill'd waste around 
 
 My waited laugh to all of mirth the sign, 
 
 And the eyes dim, that catch no beam from mine. 
 
 " Ah triumphs still too dear ! Ah glories gain'd 
 With many a toil, with more than toil retain'd ! 
 What tho' the homage and the pride be lost, 
 How frail their tenure, and how dear their cost ! 
 No ! Let this flaunt, and fight, and folly cease ! 
 Even conquest they may shun, who fly to peace, 
 For what is all the joy, which conquest gives ? 
 To share the leavings of each flirt that lives. 
 No hearts around us languish and adore, 
 That have not flam'd and flutter'd at a score. 
 The silliest thing of eyes and lips, to sing 
 Her praise as goddess, finds some sillier thing : 
 The kindred charm o'er coxcombs has prevail'd, 
 And Flavia triumphs, where my power has uil'd. 
 
J?AKT II.] OF COQUETRY. 
 
 " True, Flavia would be wise, to Age and Youth 
 A miracle of sense, and charms, and truth. 
 Grave fluttering 1 fools have sworn she has a mind, 
 And doat on wonders, which they never find. 
 But sure the Colonel could not so be caught : 
 He woos no lessons, but where love is taught, 
 Ne'er in gay routs, has sigh'd for college laws, 
 Nor doats and dies, for sentences and saws. 
 If some smart thing from Flavia fall by chance, 
 Who sees not, half the point is in her glance ? 
 And, tho' her apophthegm be light as air, 
 Red are her lips, and, O ! what wisdom there ! 
 Who but must laugh, when round her pedants sit ! 
 Can cheek, so blooming, need the aid of wit ! 
 Ah happy toilet, where, with equal grace, 
 She lays the colours on her mind and face ; 
 Sees brighter reason in each blush arise, 
 And learns to look most beautifully wise ! 
 
 " Yet what even Flavia's folly ! Tho' to night, 
 Her air, her dress, her very rouge a fright. 
 She must have conquer'd, but by fate's controul, 
 Some charms she has, and something like a soul. 
 But who of loves and triumphs can be proud, 
 When every idiot laugher has her crowd ? 
 
70 THE ABJURATION" [PART II. 
 
 Fools reign o'er fools ; and all our boasted sway 
 Is but to have as many fools as they. 
 
 " Wretch ! have I lost my temper, bloom, and sleep, 
 To gain what silly Celia could not keep ! 
 Nay, worse, despair'd and fretted, pale and thin, 
 To keep, what even her rattle was to win ! 
 
 " No Celia now I dread.The field of strife 
 I leave to her and Flavia, fools for life. 
 Let the whole huntress train, ambitious, start 
 Some gaudy thing, who thinks he has a heart, 
 To one short fame, to all but one disgrace ; 
 How Disappointment sits, and mocks the chase \ 
 For fops and feathers, can such tumult glow J 
 Ah ! why to happiness prefer a Beau ! 
 
 " Gay giddy hours, how often have ye seen 
 The aching heart belie the frolic mein ! 
 Even when, the victress of the night, I led 
 Each virgin's spoils, and slew again her dead, 
 Half soft? half stately, languishing in pride, 
 With Love and Envy ever at my side, 
 Even then, if, cold or better arm'd by chance 
 One stubborn heart repelPd my well aim'd glance, 
 The dream and luxury of power was o'er ; 
 
PART II.] OF COQUETRY. F 
 
 Pride, praise, and pleasure, touch'd my soul no more. 
 
 That single heart outnumber' d all my train, 
 
 And thousand flatterers laugh'd and sigh'd in vain. 
 
 " Or O ! what torment, when, in homage mixM 
 The glance of every box on ours has fix'd ; 
 When our gay nonsense, loud as Jaffier's rage, 
 Has won, or forc'd each listener from the stage, 
 While angry Belvidera, in despair, 
 More fiercely sobs;, and raves, and rends* her hair, - 
 AVhat torment then, to see some hateful thing, 
 That counts herself our rival, join the ring ; 
 To feel the spreading buz around us glow, 
 And, when we turn us to our favour'd beau, 
 Tg hear no laugh applaud our smartest jest, 
 And find his treacherous eye-glass with the rest ! 
 How often have I laid my fan aside, 
 Lest fools might think its toss the fret of pride ; 
 Oft view'd the creature with calm smiling gaze, 
 And prais'd, and strove to sicken all with praise, 
 That the keen eye, in chase of charms, might halt, 
 And from pure contradiction seek a fault ! 
 
 *' Such slights, such pangs can Beauty's peace destroy, 
 Ah thoughtless fools, who count our empire joy ! 
 
7 THE ABJURATION [PART II. 
 
 " How happier she, who in love's tranquil bower, 
 Clasps the sweet prize of conquest, not the power ; 
 Whoj while one gaze her charms to all prefers, 
 And one warm heart returns the warmth of hers, 
 Heeds not, tho' crowds, to half her beauty chill, 
 Should deem some flirt of fashion fairer still ; 
 Who the light chain, by wedded dames abhorr'd, 
 Which many a year has bound her to her lord, 
 Wears like some bridal ornament of state, 
 Nor thinks a husband is a name of hate, 
 But hails his calmest smile, and still can hear 
 His sober gallantries with glowing ear! 
 
 " Unknown to her ambitious Beauty's frigtu, 
 When the sick morning shews the waste of night, 
 When sudden megrims shoot along the brow, 
 And all that charm'd the dance is darkness now ; 
 Lips, which no rouge relieves, as pale and dead 
 As mincing Mlra's, ere she bites them red, 
 And eyes like Fusac's, that, at eighty free, 
 Still dimly ogle whom they scarce can see. 
 What pangs our toilet's proudest hopes assail, 
 What fret, when robes, and wreaths, and tresses fail> 
 When all, which fancy desiin'd to surpass, 
 Gleams cruel disappointment from our glass, 
 Discordant shades, that blend not as they glow, 
 
PART II.] OF COQUETRY. 73 
 
 And stiff tight folds, that vainly strive to flow! 
 Her not the toilet's endless fret can tease, 
 Who pleases one, and seeks but one to please. 
 She, if her happy lord but gaze with pride, 
 Wears what he loves, and thinks no gem denied ; 
 And if, compliant with his wish, she roam 
 To the gay tumults, which endear her home, 
 'Mid brighter fashions, and that pomp of waste, 
 Which glittering fools misname, and call it taste ; 
 Tho* not a pearl her simple hair have crown'd, 
 And lavish diamonds fling their beams around, 
 Can smile serene, nor feel one envy burn, 
 And sleep without a sigh, on her return. 
 
 " She, if her charms, or chance, around her bring 1 
 Half the gay triflers of the crowded ring, 
 Now soft with one, and now with one all gay, 
 As the free tones of careless converse play, 
 Can share the Captain's laugh, nor fear the while 
 Lest angry Generals frown at every smile. 
 Ah ! not hke her, who half afraid, half bold, 
 Proud of new slaves, yet Iqth to lose the old, 
 When cruel fortune gathers round her throne, 
 Whom singly she had seem'd to love alone, 
 Must anxious manage every look and speech, 
 And deal the cautious tenderness to each, 
 O 
 
74 THE ABJURATION [PART II. 
 
 " Yes ! ye tir'd band, whom never respite saves, 
 Ye slaves, siill toiling 'mid your train of slaves ! 
 Yes ! there are joys even vanity abo\e; 
 Ambition, conquest, what are ye to love/ 
 
 " And love awaits me still to bless my lot,-^ 
 Let but Sir John, this luckless night forgot, 
 Itenew to-morrow what he oft has said ; 
 Even tho -igh no flatterer, lie shall still persuade 
 Kot ;io to falsehoods have I lent my days, 
 As truth to hate, when sober truth is praise. 
 "What thc r , long ignorant of love, my heart 
 M y take some little time to learn the art, 
 Like waves ; that fix not, tho' the breeze be past, 
 But fFo)ic still, as if they wish'd the blast, 
 I sure may )ea.jn, before the fatal hour, 
 
 rr "A> and love him, when I get the power. 
 
 sti)i my heart too warm may glow, 
 And with short fl ,Uer beat at every Beau, 
 One look oi that grave eye will bid it cease, 
 And a few yawns soon lull it into peace. 
 O happv, hen by practice, I s'cceed, 
 And> without yawning, love in very deed ; 
 When, -y his side, my daily round I walk, 
 
 oe sweet, and sweeter still his talk, 
 in, like nature's judge, expound her laws, 
 
PART II.] OF COQUETRY. 75 
 
 Meek with moralities, and sage with saws 5 
 Or moralise myself, tho* half too young-, 
 And wonder at the wisdom of my tongue ; 
 On fields, where scarce a weed upon the sod. 
 Has grown unmark'd, and trucks for e' er trod, 
 'Mid trees, unchanged, since last w^ wanuer'd by, 
 And constant flowers that never seem to die - 
 Call him, at every turn, some charm to see, 
 Which fifty times he earlier mark'd to me ; 
 Or when dear Winter lengthens Pleasure's day, 
 When Routs contend, -nd chariots stop the way> 
 Sit, the long noiseless night without desire, 
 And gaze on him, the kitten, and the fire ! 
 Those joys I yet may learn before my grave, 
 Which virtue gives at least which virtue gave, 
 Gave, in the days, when never Beau was rude, 
 And all our great-great-grandmothers were good. 
 So shall I shine, what sage Sir John esteem'd 
 The holy, heavenly wonder, which I seem'd, 
 Mix'd of all virtues neither young nor old- 
 What godly writers laud, and ne'er behold 
 Do what they do not, turn to truth their cant, 
 And be, without her spectacles, my Aunt. 
 
 " Yet what will Flavia say ? Shall she retain 
 The heart, 'twas hers by stratagem to gain, 
 
76 ABJURATION, &C. [PART II, 
 
 With second triumph, in her thefts rejoice, 
 And think she/ore' d me to a meaner choice! 
 No ! if to one my freedom I must yield, 
 The patient Baronet must quit the field. 
 I sure may wish, without coquetry's tricks, 
 To win one other lover, ere I fix ; 
 But let the Colonel at my feet adore ; 
 Past are .my wandering-s, and JJUrtno more, 
 
 " Sooner shall maids who loath a single bed, 
 Elope to Doctors Commons to be wed ; 
 And, some gay new gallant too fondly seen, 
 Find proctors and divorce, at Gretna Green ; 
 Sooner shall man, who, in the marriage rite, 
 Boasts rule and lordship, be a husband quite ; 
 And brides who vow to honour and obey, 
 The oath remember, and renounce the sway ; 
 fcach Opera-box at midnight prayer be seen, 
 And Sermons be, what Novels long have been, 
 fcven Fashion's fickle self to change forget, 
 And turn a, Quaker, ERE I TURN COQ.TTETTE," 
 
THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES. 
 
 PART III. 
 THE GENIUS OF COQUETRY. 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 Address to the Spirits that watch over Woman, and re- 
 cord her vows. Portents that marked the vow of Ze- 
 phyra. Descent of the Genius of Coquetry. Melo- 
 dies that announce his approach. His appearance 
 contrasted with that of Love. Comes at once to for- 
 give and instruct her. Traces to her the mode by 
 which he nursed her early feeling's to his s'way. Sugv 
 gestions to her waking fancy. And in her dream* at 
 night. Pred- stination of Beauty to the passions that 
 await her. All Womankind divided as the future sub- 
 jects of Co.quetry or of Love. Description of the hum- 
 ble Band allotted to Love. Nobler character of the 
 Votaries of Coquetry. 
 
 G 2 
 

 THE 
 
 GENIUS OF COQUETRY, 
 
 YE watchful Sprites, who make even man your care, 
 And sure more gladly hover o'er the Fair ; 
 Who grave on adamant all changeless things, 
 The smiles of courtiers, and the frowns of kings' 
 Say, to what softer texture ye impart 
 The quick resolves of Woman's trusting heart, 
 Joys of a moment, wishes of an hour, 
 The short eternity of Passion's power, 
 Breath'd in vain oaths, that pledge, with generous zeal, 
 Even more of fondness than they e'er shall feel, 
 Light fleeting vows, that never reach above, 
 And all the guileless changefulness of love 1 
 
80 THE GENIUS [PART in. 
 
 Is summer's leaf the record? Does it last, 
 Till withering 1 autumn blot it with his blast ? 
 Or, frailer still, to fade ere ocean's ebb, 
 Grav'don some filmy insect's thinnest web, 
 Some day-fly's wing-, that dies, and ne'er has slept, 
 Lives the light vow, scarce longer than 'tis kept? 
 Ah ! call not perfidy her fickle choice ! 
 Ah ! find not falsehood in an angel's voice ! 
 True to one word, and constant to one aim, 
 Let man's hard soul be stubborn as his frame : 
 But leave sweet Woman's form and mind at will 
 To bend, and vary, and be graceful still ! 
 
 And yet, if signs from Heaven the truth declare, 
 Even Woman's gentle vows are more than air. 
 Twice as if Nature had to list been loth, 
 Or some strange terror trembled in an oath, 
 When to one lover's eye, one lover's arms, 
 Rash Zephyra decreed her thousand charms, 
 Ere her bright lips could speak the fatal strain, 
 Which seem'd to doom them to be bright in vain, 
 Even on her quick and never-faltering tongue, 
 Twice, as by miracle, the sentence hung; 
 Twice, by some warning power unseen impell'd, 
 Creak'd the slow hinge, and shook the door it held, 
 
PART III.] OF COQUETRY, 81 
 
 And if it call'd again her breast to glow 
 
 At the dear sound, which once announc'd the beau ; 
 
 To the far mirror twice her eye she rais'd, 
 
 And twice the unsnuflf'd taper brighter blaz'd, 
 
 Blaz'd, as to shew once more, in all their pride, 
 
 Those 'charms and graces, which 'twere guilt to hide. 
 
 Ah signs, ah miracles, how useless now ! 
 
 She vow'd ; and watchful Spirits heard the vow. 
 
 But hark ! What mighty presence fills the air ? 
 He comes, he comes No common Power is there. 
 Sweet melodies reveal him as he flies, 
 Gay laughs, and whispers soft, and softer sighs, 
 That living music, still to Beauty dear, 
 When lyres and lutes but sleep upon her ear. 
 
 Rous'd at the so-'nd, the Fair, with glad amaze, 
 Turn'd from her oitoman her languid gaze, 
 And saw strange transport thrilling thro* her dread, 
 The heavenly form descending o'er her head. 
 Beauteous as Love he seem'J; but g'ayer grace 
 Laugh'd in his smile, and sparkled o'er his face- 
 Like Love, when not of bliss IK aims the dart, 
 But secret malice titters in his heart. 
 Loose beam'd his brow ; yet, tho' with bandag'd lid, 
 
82 THE GENIUS [PART III. 
 
 His very smile had shewn, what eyes were hid, 
 Quick even in softness, flinging dews of fire, 
 And sparkling more with triumph than desire : 
 Nor like to Love's the plumes on which he hung ; 
 No backward pinion from his shoulder sprung. 
 But where the heart its changeful current flings, ' 
 Flow'd round his breast a beamy zone of wings. 
 Behind no quiver shook ; no bowstring shone 
 With idle arrows, that can wound but one. 
 Each busy hand, to spread its triumphs wide, 
 Plash'd with the bolt, that flames on every side ; 
 Loose o'er the right, one burn'd ; with equal flame 
 The left, half-bent seem'd gathering for its aim. 
 
 In mid descent he paus'd. A soft perfume 
 Plow'd as he wav'd his wing, thro* all the room, 
 More sweet than zephyr, when he leaves the rose, 
 Or essenced breathings of a hundred beaux. 
 Then to the maid, whose half-instinctive eye 
 SmiPd to his smile, scarce conscious of reply, 
 As when her upward gaze was wont to meet 
 Some earthly flatterer bending o'er her se^t,* 
 His balmy strain as bland he pour'd above, 
 As every murmur were a sigh of love, 
 
PART III.] OF COQJTETRY. 83 
 
 Buthover'd still, with plumes unweary press'd, 
 As if 'twere toil to fix, and pain to rest. 
 
 " Behold" he whisper'd "brightest of the gay ! 
 Behold the Power, who gives thy charms their sway 1 
 Tho* once, to Beauty's dear ambition cool, 
 Thy heart, in fancy, has abjur'd my rule, 
 No angry judge, sweet rebel, shalt thou fear, 
 I come to teach thee what 'tis pride to hear : 
 So shalt thou safe from second error live; 
 One pardon Fate allows, and that I give. 
 
 " Long ere those eyes, which now, their uses felt. 
 Can frown well pleas'd, and without fondness melt. 
 Had train'd their glances to thy will's controul, 
 But, arrant tell tales, spoke thy very soul ; 
 Ere thy first fib, that trembled in the act, 
 \Vhile meaning falsehood stammer'd half the fact. 
 Unskill'd, as now, with easy grace of youth 
 To smile the ready fiction into truth ; 
 Even then I fond beheld thee, proud to claim 
 Thy future charms, and triumph in thy fame. 
 
 " For this, when feebler wishes scarce could start, 
 I nurs'd the glorious passion in thy heart, 
 
84 THE GENIUS [PART HI. 
 
 Taught thee, with little smiles thy glass to fill, 
 And dress thy very doll with wanton skill, , 
 Till thy young breast, its baby years above, 
 Could think of lovers, ere it knew of love. 
 
 " In the calm eve of winter's noisy day, 
 When thy gay aunt, and grandmother as gay, 
 Thy stool, as wont, beside the honour'd seat, 
 And Puss and Pompey basking at their feet 
 Sat by the well-swept hearth,whose brightening blaze 
 Woke with the warmth the joy of other days ; 
 While many a marvel rose, of years of old, 
 The tale still wonder'd at as oft as told, 
 For thee, I sought in that pure breast to find 
 Some vanity that linger'd still behind : 
 That peaceful pride I gently rous'd at last, 
 And hVd thy ear, with tales of triumph past,- 
 Of s worded Lovers, coy as maidens now, 
 That hid each glance, andjtrembled at a vow; 
 Of Belles, that blush'd to move along a crowd, 
 And Fops demure, that gravely stalk'd and bow'd ; 
 Then came the day of glory and delight, 
 Which crush'd her farthingale, and won her knight, 
 When young Sir Robert, squire and man complete, 
 Just master of his acres and his feet, 
 
PART III.] COQUETRY. 85 
 
 Crown'd the rude birth-day riot of his hall, 
 With all the solemn stiffness of a ball ; 
 When he, in flowing periwig 1 of France, 
 And sleeves loose-waving, led her from the dance, 
 Then stumbled at her seat, and scarce could rise. 
 Struck with his own bright claret, and her eyes. 
 Rent was her ruffle, but unpierc'd her skin. 
 Ah ! deeper wounds the Squire had felt within. 
 Half-clos'd his swimming eye still look'd above , 
 And loss of senses is no loss to love. 
 Xew lace he sent, the pride of Mechlin's art, 
 And with the flowery nothing gave his heart. 
 Then when, half-proud, the matron deemM thy ear 
 Intent the glories of that lace to hear, 
 With what inventive toil she fram'd the stuff, 
 How light the pinners, and how thick the ruff; 
 Alas! thy fancy, heedless of her skill, 
 With squires and periwigs was dancing still. 
 
 <c So thro' each year, ere full its wings could spread, 
 Thy fluttering passion's little flights I led, 
 Warm as they rose, thy gleamy wishes caught, 
 Fix'd them with hope, and busied them with thought; 
 And, that no sound or sight, from dreams of power 
 Might lead thee lost, for many an idle hour, 
 H 
 
86 THE GENIUS [PART III. 
 
 In all I gave thy happy skill to find 
 
 Some image, ever present, of thy mind, 
 
 Some tie, unseen by other eyes, that ran 
 
 From every dead dull thing to living man. 
 
 When thy stern uncle knit his gouty brow, 
 
 Who thought, how gay thy cousin's smile but thou ; 
 
 And at his long loud curse, or peevish frets, 
 
 Mus'd but on Love's soft oaths, and pouts and pets ? 
 
 Even in dull pews, who smil'd, as beaux were there, 
 
 Heard songs in psalms, and earth's sweet vows in prayer : 
 
 To thy quick fancy equal church and ball ; 
 
 Fops, fame, and flattery, present still in all. 
 
 " But, more than day, thy nights cbey'd controul: 
 Then dreams divine came flowing o'er thy soul ; 
 Lords at thy knee, meek warriors at thy side, 
 Their hearts all tenderness, and thine all pride : 
 And, tho' the revelry of joy and power 
 Was hush'd, and vanish'd, at thy waking hour, 
 Yet, as when half seen fairies flit from view, 
 Soft steps still lightly live along the dew, 
 A strange sweet triumph still thy thought impressed. 
 And more than fancy throbb'd within thy breast. 
 If some gay brighter stripling woo'd, at times 
 When prose unmeaning, more unmeaning 1 rhymes, 
 
PART III.] OF COQUETRY. 87 
 
 And all the follies of Love's foolish art 
 
 Had half seduc'd to constancy thy heart, 
 
 Then, in thy dream was heard a softer sigh, 
 
 Then thousand billets glow'd upon thine eye, 
 
 Sweet songs of heaven, that, warm with fonder hopes 
 
 And fonder raptures, froze all earthly tropes ; 
 
 And when gay Susan, to surprise thee, sped. 
 
 With a fresh ditty> to thy morning bed, 
 
 Tho* balmier nonsense o'er the lay was shower'd 
 
 Than thrice ere sleep thy willing eye devour'd, 
 
 Chill yawnMst thou, waking, at the love-scrawl'd strain ;- 
 
 And the sad Ensign rhym'd and rav'd in vain. 
 
 " Smil'st thou ? Ah lotely smiler ! hast thou guess'd, 
 What Power with those bright visions warm*d thy rest, 
 When glittering dreams, that wrapt thee fresh from sway., 
 With pride unbroken fill'd the pause of day, 
 While sleep but multiplied a swifter throng, 
 And plumes, and smiles, and sword-knots, swept along I 
 
 " O early with divinest wishes fir'd, 
 Awake fulfilling what thy dream inspir'd ! 
 If with that gratitude thy bosom swell, 
 Which suits the happy bosom of a Belle, 
 Nor e'er has fail'd in kind and courteous deed, 
 
88 THE GENIUS [PAKT III. 
 
 When homage won, and fashion judg'd the meed ; 
 
 If never billet, such as claims reply 
 
 Prom duteous maid, long vainly ask thine eye, 
 
 When, in soft thanks for rhymes less softly sung, 
 
 Glides thy light quill, as fluent as thy tongue j 
 
 Even in that trustless intercourse which blends 
 
 Spite, envy, flattery, when the fair are friends, 
 
 When she thou hatest, her anxious soul to pour, 
 
 Has sent her card, to thunder at thy door, 
 
 Fit proxy of her heart, and mind, and fame, 
 
 Half blank, half scrawl, a title and a name, 
 
 If then thy well-remembering conscience burn, 
 
 Till Harry bear thy visit in return, 
 
 Behold, O fair and grateful ! nor alone 
 
 To mortals be that sweet observance shewn, 
 
 But, conscious of thy panoply of charms, 
 
 Bless the glad Power, who train'd thee to thy arms ! 
 
 " Yes ! when around thee youths o'er youths shall gaze, 
 Catch the far glance, and spread the swelling praise, 
 When all is triumph to thy ear and eye, 
 Ah ! would'st thou then Ids empire thankless fly, 
 Who, sure thy destin'd worship to retain, 
 Without thy heart the homage would disdain I 
 
PAHT III.] OF COQUETRY. 89 
 
 " Know, that of all the legions of the Fair, 
 Who charm this earth, and breathe this mortal air, 
 Fate, who ne'er heeds how butchering warriors kill. 
 And leaves dull statesmen to be fools at will, 
 Has fixed the softer power, mid joys and wiles., 
 A willing sovereign of the world of smiles. 
 Even thou, O loveliest subject of her throne ! 
 Who think'st thy sweet caprices are thy own, 
 Charm'st, as an earlier sway the charm ordains, 
 And, when thou conquer'st, conquer'st but in chains, 
 When the world's future victors, slumbering mute, 
 Shook at the rocking'of a menial's foot ; 
 While one dull chamber clasp'd, with narrow wall, 
 Eyes, to which soonrihalf London would be small, 
 And little shrinking breasts, of man afraid, 
 Thought love was meant but for their nurse and maid; 
 Even then had Fate assign'd the mighty part, 
 And counted every flutter of the heart, 
 Seen, in her careless frock still smiling free, 
 The scold and flaunt of toilets yet to be, 
 And eyes, that knew not how a glance should glow, 
 Ere yet they wept the rattle, win the Beau. 
 
 " Whatever Beauty pines, or pants, or raves, 
 AH the soft sex of sovereigns and of slaves, 
 H 2 
 
90 THE GENIUS [PAKT III* 
 
 Who for one lord in servile fondness sigh, 
 Or proudly see their hundredth captive die, 
 To Love and me were given to me the best, 
 O glorious destiny ! Be Love's the rest ! 
 
 " All who, unskilled to vanquish and controul. 
 Without ambition, scarcely have a soul, 
 Too weak the varying charm thro' crowds to guide, 
 And tho r all own'd the charm, too cold for pride, 
 Who sink beneath that heart they cannot sway, 
 Till tir'd they give the heavy thing away, 
 And free, and pleas'd their burthen to unpack. 
 When once they loose it, dread to take it back, 
 Virgins, who only know to blush and weep, 
 And wives, sage wives, who, wiser, know to sleep* 
 Who, while their single slave can fill their view, 
 Think one O rude in numbers ! more than two; 
 These Love unenvied won a cheerless train : 
 Bright rose the fated subjects of my reign, 
 .Hearts whose gay dream no nightly murmur robs, 
 Which find no melody in self-heard sobs. 
 But, when they listen to a tender moan, 
 Prefer the sighs of others to their own, 
 High-daring souls, that ever climb above, 
 And make each lover's breast a step to love, 
 
PART III.] OJF COQUETRY. 
 
 That even a crowd, when vanquish'd can despise, 
 And while all gaze, still look for other eyes.- 
 Such O still more belov'd and honour'd more, 
 O worthier to be worshipp'd than adore ! 
 Such, ever beauteous, at my altar bow, 
 Themselves divine. O loveliest, such art thou; 
 And, tho* no other priestess bent the knee, 
 Rich were his empire, who could boast of thee." 
 

 
 THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES. 
 
 PART IT. 
 CELESTIAL FLIRTATION. 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 influence of flattery in giving freedom to the tongue, 
 Zephyra, recovering from her awe, and restored to all 
 the graces of her native and habitual character, co- 
 quets with the very Genius of Coquetry. Emboldened 
 by the praise of her charms, and eager to know the 
 extent of her predestined power, she entreats a glimpse 
 of the future. Is checked by the Genius, who explains 
 to her the loss of happiness, which would arise from 
 foresight of the particular conquests that await her, 
 but comforts and animates her, by pictures of general 
 triumph. Feigned indifference, with which, as in mere 
 mortal flirtation> she affects to disregard the very tri- 
 umphs of which she is ambitious. Overcome at last 
 by the force of one terrifying argument, the only ar- 
 gument in logic which Beauty is unable to resist, 
 
CEfiESTIAL FLIRTATION. 
 
 STRANGE power of praise ! What sudden rapture glow'd, 
 And loos'd even awe to gladness, aa it flow'd ! 
 She, to whose tongue, when man that tongue could hear, 
 Five silent minutes seem'd a little year,- 
 Save when at church she sat in decent guise, 
 Love's sweetest saint, and talked but with her eyes ; 
 "Who, when gay warring scandals flash'd askance, 
 Had still her wit as ready as her glance, 
 Or, with soft foplings, unperplex'd by thought, 
 Could turn for hours their nothings into nought ; 
 She, by the heavenly Presence awed, had hung 
 Mute, as if love or ice had seal'd her tongue, 
 
96 CELESTIAL [PART IV. 
 
 Heard all his tedious boasts, with silence meet, 
 An1, stranger still, had felt even silence sweet ; 
 But, when the sound, which still 'tis joy to hear, 
 The voice of flattery, touch'd her kindling ear, 
 A softer splendour seem'd around to glow, 
 The heavenly Power but look'd a brighter Beau ; 
 Smiles o'er her cheek ran waving, and her eye 
 Gleam'd, as when sparkling for a gay reply : 
 Yet, ere she spoke, she drew with graceful charm 
 The shawl light-floating, o'er her snowy arm. 
 
 Then with a brighter smile, not such as springs 
 When Beauty sweetly talks unmeaning things, 
 But that full softness, kept for highest hours, 
 When, proud in hope, she gathers all her powers, 
 The fair began," O not by fate, but choice, 
 Lord of this heart still throbbing with thy voice ! 
 If the fond loyal faith of years atone 
 The single vow rebellious to thy throne, 
 Give since my path is doom'd not wholly dark, 
 One little vista of my way to mark. 
 These eyes, tho* lovers, who in oaths delight, 
 And bards, whose trade is falsehood,^ wear them bright., 
 Too dim, to see whom next their power shall thrall, 
 Scarce know the slave they conquer, ere he fall, 
 
PART IV.] XUftTATIOir: 97 
 
 Ah ! let thy pure celestial radiance teach 
 
 What orbs of earthly gleam are weak to reach ! 
 
 Say, shall that ever-wedding simperer's arms, 
 
 Seduce the proud apostate of my charms, 
 
 Or the dear penitent her chains resign, 
 
 And Flavia die with spite to see him mine ? 
 
 Then but O ! mock not thus ! may never Beau 
 
 What smils't thou still ? this glance as fatal know ' 
 
 Yet say, if fools should fall who next shall bend ? 
 
 Not that I wish even one. Nay ! heaven forefend ! 
 
 Fearful I ask, in pity of their pain, 
 
 To know what gentle hearts must sigh in vain !" 
 
 " forbear," he cried* " nor seek, with sure regret, 
 Ah heedless ! what 'twere wisdom to forget! 
 Enough This knowledge safe may be allow'd 
 As proud the past, the future shall be proud. 
 Why, by a moment's wasteful foresight, lose 
 The sweet uncertainties thy soul pursues, 
 Or think, the languid triumph still were dear, 
 Without the toil to win it, and the fear ? 
 When the gay youth, who knows thee but by fame, 
 First from thy glance receives the shaft of flame, 
 How poor the joy, if, while with careless grace 
 He laughing prais'd thy feather or thy faee, 
 I 
 
98 CELESTIAL [PART iv. 
 
 Thy soul had seen each tender visit paid, 
 Rhymes yet unstol'n, and perjur'd vows unmade, 
 With unscrawl'd billets tir'd thy fancy's view, 
 Yawning- for that which never could be new ! 
 Then is the throb of conqest,then the charm, 
 When the proud bliss still trembles with alarm, 
 When half despair'd, yet fix'd by Beauty's skill, 
 At length the flutterer hangs upon her will. 
 
 * c Why for thy swain is Flavia still thy dread? 
 Even in thy mirror, may thy fate be read. 
 Think of thy wit, behold again thine eyes ! 
 The brighter, lovelier, gayer, wins the prize." 
 
 So spake the Power. Like oracles of old, 
 Doubtful and dark, the mystic fate unroll'd. 
 Clear to the virgin's breast it beam'd delight, 
 No mirror needed she, to make it bright : 
 Yet o'er her joy a shadowy thought would flit, 
 Of fools who talk'd of Flavians charms and wit, 
 And with that passing thought, a pang would steal, 
 Which, if not fear, was what the fearful feel. 
 
 With glance as quick as Love's all conscious eyes> 
 The heavenly Presence saw that pang arise, 
 
PART IV.] FLIRTATION. 99 
 
 Saw, pi ying ; and, more instant to relieve, 
 
 Than gentle virgins when their lovers grieve, 
 
 SkillM in that charm, which saddest Beauty lists, 
 
 That sole sure solace, which no grief resists, 
 
 " Why thus on one" he cried, " thy wishes thrown I 
 
 Flames the gay epaulet on one alone ? 
 
 Along the Park would no bright courser speed, 
 
 If the sad ring should miss one sluggish steed I 
 
 Tho* mute a single tongue shall all be still ? 
 
 Fades then my empire, if one heart be chill ? 
 
 O form'd to conquer Colonels yet unseen ! 
 
 Let fifty powder'd warriors hail thee queen, 
 
 Thy page to that of Kings preferr'd, forget 
 
 All glorious .with their rank the last gazette, 
 
 For thee on haughty field days spread their line, 
 
 Nor heed reviewing Princes' eyes for thine ! 
 
 Let statesmen, colder than their tinsel strings. 
 
 Who ne'er knew queens, save wedded dames of kings, 
 
 And all their frugal courtship, kept to bend 
 
 Knave-sending boroughs, and the knaves they send, 
 
 Bow, as thy hand the seals could shake at will, 
 
 And, quick seducers, own thee quicker still ! 
 
 Soft round thy seat, a sable simpering throng, 
 
 With words of nothing and with voice of song, 
 
 Let gentle priestlings give thee airs for airs, 
 
100 CEIESTIAI. [PART iv- 
 
 And almost deem thy graces sweet as theirs, 
 Gaze on thy cheek, half envious of its glow, 
 And press, with rival hand, thy hand of snow, 
 When banns are read, thy lovely image see, 
 And, as they sigh for mitres, sigh for thee f . 
 
 " Such be thy wider glories ! To my glance 
 Even now in future pomp what crowds advance- 
 The laughing, sighing slaves,; that, gay or dumb, 
 Hang on thy smile, in galas yet to come ! 
 What spreading hopes thy morning thought employ j 
 What joyous night, succeeding nights of joy !- 
 Yet thou^ dissembler, for those triumphs born I- 
 Ah ! canst thou look, as if thy glance were scorn \ 
 
 (( Nay ! while that lovely soul before me liesi 
 AH clear, and bright, and open, as thine eyes, 
 Loose thy full bosom's happiness, nor feign 
 What proudest hearts shall covet, to disdain ! 
 Even thou wouldst envy, -could the power, which glows 
 In thine, e'er beam from any orbs but those." 
 
 He ceas'ck but, pausing, cast so soft a gaze, 
 The very look still seem'd to utter praise : 
 Nor slow the Maid to answer. Yet, what art 
 
FART IV.] YXI&tATICIS . 101 , 
 
 Binds thy soft fetters, Custom ! round the heart ! 
 ThV well she knew the Power, that listening hung, 
 Mark'deach quick impulse of her eye and tongue, 
 Not less the sweet dissembler's ready guile 
 Plann'd every glance, and measur'd every smile ; 
 Not less, tho' conscious that her thought was known, 
 Spoke the bright falsehoods, dim to beaux alone. 
 
 As, when the flowery bands, which Hymen weave s, 
 Like other flowers have shed their faded leaves, 
 And nought remains, which Love delighted wore, 
 Save the chill fetters which they hid before, 
 If then, by chance Such wonder chance may see- 
 Meek Beauty's wishes, and her lord's, agree, 
 Should he all-courteous sue as husbands ought; 
 The very whim her secret fancy sought ; 
 That whim is fled : a sudden sickness springs ; 
 And all which charm'd her once are hateful things : 
 Strange follies now her piercing wisdom hits ; 
 She rails, and rallies, laughs, and pouts, by fits : 
 Thus, when on Zephyra's exulting ear 
 Flow'd the proud strain, prophetically dear, 
 That, to her secret dreams of rapture true, 
 With every vision which 'twas sweet to view, 
 Yet claim'd no hojmage, for the triumphs spread, 
 I 2 
 
[PART IT. 
 
 But soft avowal of that joy they fed ; 
 Still, as with fonder suit the Genius press'd, 
 Her tongue withholding what her heart confessed, 
 The more that stubborn tongue the charm denied, 
 Graceful to feign, stnd eloquent to hide. 
 
 "Ah flatterer !" she exclaim'd. - A glance the while 
 Was meekly rais'd, with more than half a smile ; 
 Then, ere the smile could full its orb attain, 
 The soft and snowy eyelid sunk again.- 
 " Mock not, like man ! these idle eyes, that gleam, 
 Alas, too conscious of their feeble beam, 
 Careless of hopes that suit the fair and proud, 
 To charms, which know to vanquish, leave* the croud 
 Yet, tho' this glance so dull, and duller tongue, 
 Were all which rhyming fools have falsely sung, 
 Tho', at my smile, each torpid heart awoke, 
 And Beaux, even Beaux, grew sages when I spoke, 
 Why should I toils of fruitless conquest choose, 
 Slow winning whom to win is swift to lose ? 
 See, the long labours of a winter past, 
 The prize of routs, balls, operas, won at last, 
 Thai haughty victor, at whose hean untam'd, 
 The glance on others bent, was secret aim'd. 
 And smiles, and whispers, which gay foplings near 
 
PART IV.] FLKtTA^IO^ 103 
 
 Thought fondly d^stin'd for their eye or ear, 
 Unconscious cause of many a grave debate, 
 When flower and feather pois'd the scales of fate, 
 Unconscious cause of many a wrathful tone, 
 When Susan suffered, for a guilt unknown- 
 Now, yielding, melting, glowing, every look 
 Bright with what never dullest nymph mistook, 
 The soft, yet easy insolence, whose air, 
 Bids rival Beaux, and rival Belles, despair, 
 He comes, with all a lover's tender pride, 
 And lists, and laughs, and rattles, at our side. 
 But who shall triumph, when the very gaze, 
 That owns us sovereign, in the suit it pays ! 
 Ere yet we count our conquest, or have told 
 Each doubtful feature, to be kind or cold, 
 Nay, worse, ere Flirts, with envious anger pale, 
 Have broke one fan, or clubb'd one spiteful tale ; 
 Turns, while we catch the half-unfinish'd vow, 
 And seeks its answer from another brow. 
 Man may be true to do the creature right 
 If every Belle, but one, be shut from sight : 
 But, bring a second flutterer on the field, 
 And Lords, and Squires, and cruel Colonels, yield. 
 Has honour then no sway, and can we find 
 Nor faith, nor conscience, in that guilty kind ? 
 
104 GE&EsftiAi. [PART iv. 
 
 Thou know'st, divinest Power ! could woman's art 
 
 Still charm, as when 'twas won, the conquer'd heart, 
 
 This bosom, in thy happy worship free, 
 
 Would ask no empire, but a slave to thee. 
 
 Then round my step the glittering throng might glow, 
 
 And nonsense echo sweet, from Beau to Beau ! 
 
 But, since the savage, whom no vows perplex, 
 
 Hastes from our feet, to kneel to half the sex, 
 
 So swiftly perjur'd, that in vain we try 
 
 To give the wretch one rival ere he fly ; 
 
 What boots the baffled toil of every hour, 
 
 To spread from heart to heart a fading power, 
 
 As if our haste could Love's caprice excel, 
 
 More quick to conquer, than our slaves rebel ! 
 
 Alas ! the brittle links, we bind in vain, 
 
 Burst, if a single yawn but stretch the chain j 
 
 And on some new-won captive ere we cast 
 
 Our ready fetters, we have lost the last. 
 
 Ah ! rather for, in man's perfidious race 
 
 Perhaps one constant heart may still have place, 
 
 And in that sole adorer I may see 
 
 A train as wide, as if I bow'd to thee 
 
 Ah! rather let me, with that heart content, 
 
 Try, what the fools, who boast of love, have meant J 
 
 Tho* sweet to feign, when conquest crowns our skill, 
 
PART IV.] FLIRTATION. 105 
 
 Perhaps to feel it may be sweeter still. 
 
 Oft have I read, and heard, of raptures caught 
 
 In mutual wishes and consenting thought, 
 
 Strange joy, like that from dullest chords which springs, 
 
 When Music well has pair'd the sleepy strings. 
 
 Perhaps for who shall say, that all are wiles ? . 
 
 Affection may he more than tones and smiles. 
 
 Some hidden charm, which gentle seers, who reach 
 
 The secret heart's soft mysteries, may teach. 
 
 Yet, trust me, not forgetful of thy flame, 
 
 Oft shall my bosom own hy early claim; 
 
 And tho* ; tself in happy patience blest 
 
 With the calm worship of a single breast, 
 
 At least for others sake, the guilt deplore 
 
 Of man, the traitor, who denies us more." 
 
 The Genius heard, and, with a look of fire, 
 That laugh'd, with mockery of upbraiding ire, 
 Sweet as when virgins bend an angry glance, 
 That frowns, yet seems as if it frown'd by chance, 
 When soft kjndeyes are fix'd,*in modest pride, 
 On daring youths, who scarcely think they chide ; 
 " Doubt'st thou my glorious tale ?" half stern he said, 
 " Doubt'st thou thy prophet, too presumptuous Maid ? 
 Nay, bolder infidel to power divine ! 
 
106 CELESTIAL [PART IV. 
 
 No frowns of monarchs like one smile of thine; 
 Ah ! canst thou, while thy very triumph glows, 
 Doubt, what sure empire waits on charms like those ? 
 The haughty sex, which bends at Beauty's knee, 
 May pay short vows, but, loveliest ! not to thee. 
 No more inconstant, at thy sweet controul, 
 New faith, new joy, shall renovate the soul : 
 The truant, fix'd, and wondering at his flame, 
 Shall give his heart the praise thine eyes may claim. 
 
 "Be man's to worship ! But, that doom above, 
 O happier, nobler ! canst thou think of love, 
 Watch from one weary tongue thy sole renown, 
 Starve on a smile, or wither at a frown ? 
 No ! In the noontide ring, or midnight dance, 
 'Mid future slaves, that wait but for thy glance, 
 Rise to thy destiny's unbounded scope ; 
 Be all be more than all thou dars't to hope ! 
 Yet if, disdainful of that glorious sway, 
 Which calls a world to see thee, and obey, 
 'Thy sluggish heart from power and praise would creep, 
 With lazy love to sigh itself to sleep ; 
 Hops'st thou to charm as now ? O vainly fair ! 
 Think, what that smile would suffer, and forbear ! 
 That smile ! Alas ! no more, with playful gleam, 
 
PART IV.] FLIRTATION. 107 
 
 Exhaustless sweetness from its orb would beam, 
 
 As when gay epaulets around thee hung", 
 
 And love soft-titter'd from each warrior's tongue ; 
 
 But a dull simper ever-faint would dawn, 
 
 Cold as a frown, and languid us a yawn. 
 
 Why waste fresh splendours on a single s \vain,, 
 
 Whom, vanquished once, thou canst not win again ! 
 
 Ah no ! If groves, and parlour glooms, confin'd 
 
 That boundless radiance, which might warm mankind, 
 
 Nor thronging eyes those looks of homage cast, 
 
 Which wake new beauties, while they praise the past, 
 
 The freezing dullness, which no rapture cheers, 
 
 Would do, in hours the cruel work of years, 
 
 Steal from thy form some animated grace, 
 
 Or quench some living lustre in thy face. 
 
 Perhaps for who could 'scape such drowsy lot ? 
 
 Thy very art of conquest half forgot, 
 
 Even thou, in sloth habitual, lost to fame, 
 
 Might'st sink, scarce brighter than some nursery dame, 
 
 Who rocks her bantling, pickles pods in state. 
 
 And cooks the caudle of her gouty mate. 
 
 "Kay trust not to thy mirror! Bend not there 
 That laughing look, which says it must be fair ! 
 Mock'st thou my threat, in conscious charms secure ? 
 
108 CELESTIAL [PART rv. 
 
 Alas ! thy very charms but make it sure. 
 
 Love's piteous slaves, their little passions caught, 
 
 Act their dull scenes, without one rebel thought, 
 
 Proud of their tiny triumph, and content 
 
 To be the silly things which Nature meant. 
 
 But thou, whose early glories to fulfil, 
 
 The sweet ambition soon inspired the skill, 
 
 Form'd for a sway imperial, shoulds't thou deign, 
 
 The idle Phyllis of some idle swain, 
 
 To join the fools, who sit in pairs apart, 
 
 And prattle fondness from pure sloth of heart, 
 
 What would thy conscious charms, but cloud thine eye 
 
 With fretful glooms, as sullen as thy sigh, 
 
 Till, sick, and scornful of each wasted hour, 
 
 Too chill to melt, and weak by very power, 
 
 Thy smile, reluctant to be kind, would yield 
 
 To half the ceaseless simperers of the field : 
 
 As some proud actress, skiil'd to shake the soul, 
 
 Born but to rave, or stab, or drink the bowl, 
 
 If chance assign a meek attendant's part, 
 
 Still moves, a queen, and errs with all her art, 
 
 By the dull mute surpassed, who^ trainM to hear, 
 
 Holds her white handkerchief, and lends an ear. 
 
 Even while, the weary fondness to fulfil, 
 
 On the same eyes thou fain would^st languish still, 
 
PART IV.] FLIRTATION. 109 
 
 Some proud remembrance, starting 1 in thy breast, 
 Would turn the mawkish tenderness to jest, 
 Freeze the warm smile, the light caress restrain, 
 Till grace itself seem awkwardness and pain.*' 
 
 She heard, and shudder'd, as her smile, too trute, 
 Already felt the dulling gloom he drew. 
 
 " Nay, shtink not," cried the Power." From love's 
 
 chill sway 
 
 Thy heart shall guard. That faithful heart obey ! 
 In all thy grace of triumph fearless shine ! 
 Fate doom'd thee still to charm, that doom'd thee mine*?' 
 
THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES, 
 
 PART V. 
 
 THE CESTUS OF LEVITY, 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 Ever-ready eloquence of the Female tongue. Graceful 
 semblances of continued opposition, with which a 
 lovely disputant yields, without seeming 1 to be van- 
 quished. To impress Zephyra fully with the glorious 
 privileges of her fate, the Genius prepares to fa- 
 vour her with a sight of the Paradise, in which, after 
 earthly coquetries have ceased, the immortal coquette 
 renews and continues through immortality, the de- 
 lights which she only began in the drawing-rooms 
 and groves below. Gravitation of Woman, which con- 
 fines her to those drawing-rooms and groves of earth. 
 Cestus of Levity, by the aid of which she may rise, 
 wherever her wishes lead her. Description of the 
 tissue ; of the pictures with which it is adorned. The 
 Genius invests Zephyra with the Cestqs. He ascends, 
 and Zephyra with him. 
 
THE 
 
 CESTUS OF LEVITY, 
 
 YES, Woman, yes ! Tho*, in his pompous school, 
 Man proud may learn to think and talk by rule, 
 Thine is the native eloquence, whose grace 
 Flows true to every hour and every place j 
 That, with a swain familial, can recal 
 Scenes, persons, things, and spread delight on all j 
 Or find, as fluent, if unknown the youth, 
 In mutual ignorance gay stores of truth- 
 No theme thou need'st, accordant thoughts to strike ; 
 On something, nothing, all things, sage alike : 
 Enough, to wake thy eloquence and lore, 
 Ears that can list, and eyes that can adore. 
 K 2 
 
114 THE CESTUS [PART T. 
 
 Hence that gay tongue, which never could decline 
 Of warring Beaux the courteous strife benign, 
 Had dar'd even heavenly combat ; and tho' sway'd 
 One argument's dire force the vanquish'd maid ; 
 For ne'er could loveliest baffler of the wise 
 Scorn the keen proof, that argues to her eyes, 
 She yielded, but as Woman bends her will, 
 That, even submitting, gently combats still. 
 
 "Mock not," she cried, " proud victor ! nor contend, 
 That soft coquettings never have an end ! 
 By half the host of wives, or if I dare 
 An oath so stable, by this heart I swear, 
 Who to fond crowds her lavish smiles has cast, 
 May wed, and be a sober mate at last. 
 Knows't thou not Anna ? Who, like her, could fling 
 An eye of wide allurement o'er the ring, 
 Mark, at a glance, thro' hundreds beaming gay, 
 Whate'er the rout could offer to her sway, 
 Then aim the steady charm, at distance true, 
 And win the trifler, ere his foe he knew ! 
 ? ow see her wedded ! Since her bridal morn 
 Thrice has the moon renew'd its double horn, 
 And soon again that crescent light shall shed 
 I Is gentle radiance on Sir Jacob's head : 
 Yet, as still shone the hymeneal star, 
 
PART V.] OF LEVITY. 115 
 
 Scarce loosed the doves that yok'd the marriage car ; 
 
 Who, like Sir Jacob, wins from Anna's eye 
 
 The glowing fondness ?" "Yes ! when crowds are nigh. 
 
 O dull or jestful ! seest thou not, when light 
 
 Those tender glances on her booby knight, 
 
 Well knows the dame, how warm the soften'd gaze, 
 
 When love seems melting in the humid blaze ; 
 
 What beauteous things a husband's licensed cheek 
 
 Allows the decent wedded eye to speak ; 
 
 While, as with envious anger they adore, 
 
 Each youth but hates her fool, to love her more, 
 
 How sure she counts her vanquished, as they yield, 
 
 Tho' scarce a glance seem wandering o'er the field, 
 
 When, meekly heedless, as nor eye nor ear 
 
 Could mark a worshipper, tho' crowds were near ; 
 
 Each look divinely fix'd in matron grace, 
 
 On the broad folly of Sir Jacob's face, 
 
 With secret throb she views her victims fall, 
 
 Tho' languishing on one, still kind to all. 
 
 " What nymph can change her fate ? A rebel's part 
 Tho' each may play, she still is true a* heart. 
 
 " So, when that simpering thing of smiles and bloom,. 
 Love's slave, nor worthy of a prouder doom, 
 
116 THE CESTUS [PART V. 
 
 Thy cousin Martha, when her lord is nigh, 
 Toils to be faithless, with unwilling eye, 
 Affects the triumphs of thy glorious arms, 
 And deals around her little stock of charms, 
 In vain, with frolic airs, and jest, and song, 
 She laughs, and flirts, and flutters, to the throng ; 
 Still bursts by fits, thro' all her art's controul, 
 The humble passion of her humble soul, 
 Pond of her fool, to him her wishes cling, 
 Faithful, with eyes that ogle half the ring. 
 Even when soft striplings bend around her chair\ 
 With looks which only lovers know to wear, 
 Instinctive turns her smile, her lord to see, 
 And seems to say, all this I leave for thee. 
 
 " Yet pause I not forgetful ? Ah too sweet, 
 To dwell, forgetting all things, at thy feet ! 
 Come, ever-favour'd ! on thy glance shall rise 
 What never beam'd till now on mortal eyes, 
 That happier world, where, earth's brief triumphs past, 
 Short Routs, and short-lived Beaux, forgot at last, 
 The deathless charmer finds, in realms more gay, 
 Immortal pleasure in immortal sway. 
 Come to the bowers of joy ! Their air divine 
 Breathe and then murmur, that the home is thine 1 
 
PAKT V.] OF 1EVITY. 117 
 
 st In many a musing dream, by fancy wrought, 
 That home shall rise in sweetness on thy thought. 
 Whene'er, 'mid rival flirts, thy heart shall swell 
 At little slights, that fret the happiest Belle ; 
 If some cold fop beside thee heedless it, 
 Or, at thy gayest sally, rail at wit, 
 Or, eloquent on eyes of every hue, 
 To dazzling black prefer the languid blue, 
 Or, when thy gracious arm had doom'd to lean, 
 Snatch from the box some laugher of fifteen,-* 
 Then, swift to comfort, ere a sigh shall start 
 Of half-rebellious sadness in thy heart, 
 Diviner hopes shall calm each angry thrill, 
 And the sweet future keep thee faithful still. 
 Come ! 'Tis the world of Earth's bright victors. See, 
 Who smil'd, and shone, and almost charm'd like thee I" 
 
 He said ; and from his arm all loosely thrown, 
 Soft-floated round the fair a filmy zone, 
 With narrower circle close and closer press'd, 
 And clasp'd, as by some kindred charm, her breast, - 
 Cestus of potent Levity, to wing 
 From earthly bondage free each ponderous thing, 
 Thro' worlds ethereal give the fair to glide, 
 That only angel power at birth denied. 
 
118 THE CESTUS [PART V 
 
 Yes ! tho' her heart, all volatile, may gleam 
 
 With wishes lighter than a spirit's dream, 
 
 She, whose gay wishes dance with pleasure's glow, 
 
 Has still one gravity which sinks below, 
 
 One living warm attraction, sure to bind, 
 
 Which draws her to the orb, that bears mankind. 
 
 If, thro' their distant spheres when planets pass, 
 
 To lifeless masses tend each lifeless mass, 
 
 What wonder, that, by charm as potent sway'dj 
 
 To living crowds should tend the living maid 1 
 
 That human bond she feels her soul inthral, 
 
 Floats amid Routs, and centres to the Ball. 
 
 But let the zone its buoyant power impart, 
 
 With gossamery lightness round her heart, 
 
 From earth she shakes her unincumber'd robe, 
 
 And mounts, and scorns this coxcomb-bearing globe. 
 
 What skill the Cestus wrought ? What laughing power 
 
 Plann'd the strange tissue, in some frolic hour ? 
 
 The purest of the joyous tribes, that reign 
 
 Where dull-eyed sages deem one vast inane, 
 
 That dance on ether, or, with playful race, 
 
 Urge the slow sunbeams thro' the wilds of space, 
 
 Light Essences, that mock all gross compare, 
 
 And look on Sylphs, as Sylphids on the fair, 
 
PART V.] OF LEVITT. 119 
 
 Smil'd round the woof, while one, with busy hand 
 And eye now gay now serious, wove the band. 
 
 Aerial were the threads ; but nicest art 
 Prom air too gross had cull'd a purer part 
 What summer suns exhale, in many a gem, 
 Fresh from the drooping lily's shower-wash'd stem, 
 These watch'd the spinster-sprite, the softest chose, 
 And loos'd from odours mingling as they rose. 
 Then, to due levity to purge the mass, 
 Thro' Woman's gentle lips she bade it pass. 
 In tender oaths, such oaths, from morn to eve, 
 As pious virgins swear, and youths believe, 
 Of endless love, in endless pledges told, 
 As if the last were felt too frail to hold, 
 And parting anguish, of as constant pain, 
 Which nought can solace, but another swain, 
 Her momentary soul as breath'd the fair, 
 Still light and lighter grew the glowing air, 
 Till, by soft lips with softest pressure wrought, 
 The very accents scarce out-weigh'd the thought. 
 Thus fitted to her fancy's sportful doom, 
 She gave the well-breath'd lightness to the loom, 
 Each fibre was some passion's tender proof, 
 And vows, and transports, Uv'd along the woof, 
 
10 THE CESTUS [PART >, 
 
 With sunny rays inwove, Rot such as fall, 
 One massy splendour, from the central ball, 
 But tints that with divided lustre glow, 
 Half-bright, half-humid, from the watery bow, 
 Gay gleam'd the web, with emblems meet design'd, 
 The charms and fates of gentle womankind. 
 
 First, on the band, the merry Sprite above 
 Had wrought a simple tale of virgin love. 
 'Twas glowing noon. A woodbine's flowery shade 
 Threw softer sunshine o'er a youth and maid : 
 With childhood's tender charms, but woman's air, 
 Of soul than years maturer seem'd the fair : 
 Yet well those tender charms could look, untaught. 
 What practis'd dames ascribe to time and thought. 
 Half-seen afar, a little winged Power 
 SmiPd, as he pointed to another bower ; 
 Nor smil'd unmark'd. But tho' her watchful glance 
 Had seen the love-announcing form advance, 
 Still seem'd her gaze, as soft it turn'd again, 
 One only bower to know, one only swain. 
 In parting guise she stood : the impatient Belle 
 First press'd the hand, first spoke the slow fare we 1 ; 
 Yet, as the clasp were /*, and sadly true 
 Her voice but tchoedhis too quick adiea, 
 
FART V.] OF IiEtlTY. 
 
 Even while slue urged him lingering, still her eye 
 Seem'd fondly saying, " why so swift to fly ?" 
 
 Next, on the central tissue, group'd the Sprite 
 The festive presence of some sacred rite. 
 An altar blaz'd divine. A priest was there, 
 And, girt by gentle bands, a gentler pair : 
 The maid was she, whose smile, of tender truth 
 GlowM in the bower ; of aspect new the youth. 
 The Marriage Power had fled ; but, in his place, 
 A little winged Form, with sprightlier grace, 
 TraiPd his long robe, his torch more widely swept, 
 And dash'd its sparks around, where'er he stept. 
 Precepts and prayers the sacred lips had given : 
 Young was the priest, nor shap'd for only Heaven. 
 The wedded fair her downcast eyes had rais'd, 
 Blush'd to her lord, and mark'd who fondliest gaz'd, 
 Then turn'd her from the crowd : the blessing ceas'd, 
 Her parting glance seem'cl lingering on the priest, 
 Not coldly thankful, as for office due, 
 But soft, as virgins look, when virgins woo. 
 
 A different scene the verge was wrought to shew ; 
 Pale grace, and all the beautiful of wo. 
 Afar,' mid blazing- tapers, o'er the doad 
 I, 
 
12 THE CESTUS [PAKT V- 
 
 Its hundred plumes a pall funeral spread : 
 
 While> on a couch, to softer pomp resign'd, 
 
 In widow'd loveliness, a dame reclin'd. 
 
 With limbs, a nice disorder taught to keep, 
 
 And half-closed eyes, that almost seem'd to weep, 
 
 She leant ; and, duteous to her lord's remains, 
 
 Mus'd all the merits of a crowd of swains, 
 
 Careful, no worthless mate to give the past ; 
 
 To her so kind, and ah! so dead at last. 
 
 Already many a page of soft relief 
 
 Had sooth'd with all the gallantries of grief. 
 
 On three she paus'd. When three so equal woo, 
 
 Alas that one must be preferr'd to tivo ! 
 
 The billets, that perplex'd her fancy's sway, 
 
 On the rich prayer-book's massy crimson lay ; 
 
 The rest, with psalms and sermons, ne'er to roam, 
 
 Were heap'd beneath a holier, massier tome. 
 
 Where near a mirror beam'd, and flung a wreath 
 
 Of glory on the toilet's shine beneath, 
 
 'Mid hoods and scarfs, and all the sable art 
 
 Which heals with outward grief the iaward heart, 
 
 The solemn silk, the crape of sadder power^ 
 
 Dull -weeds, that brighter shew sweet Beauty's flower, 
 
 There the same winged form again was seen. 
 
 In heavenly service to his mortal queen. 
 
PART V.] OF XEVITY. 123 
 
 What folds would best a tender sorrow speak, 
 What shades to lovelier langour melt the cheek, 
 For her, each gloomy vestment had he tried, 
 Intent to cull, but cautious to decide. 
 One cap, whose gather'd crape divinely hung, 
 On his own head the pigmy Power had flung, 
 To scan its brighter grace. The folds, that bound 
 The front half hid him, as they clos'd around : 
 Ye: thro' them gleamM his eyes, with laughing wile ; 
 And the clear mirror glisten'd with his smile. 
 So wove, so picturM, was the band that pressed 
 The softest tissue, on the softest breast. 
 
 " Come to thy future realm !" the Genius said, 
 As the light cestus clasp'd the wondering maid. 
 ' Be this thy wafture ! Chain'd no more below, 
 Fly on thy wish, where'er a wish can go ! 
 Not Beaux alone thy will all-powerful speeds. 
 Ccme ! follow fearless, where thy Genius leads !" 
 
 She heard, and swift our world of sunshine cross'd j^ 
 And Earth perceived not, that its charm was lost. 
 
THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES. 
 
 PART VI. 
 THE STAR OF PARADISE, 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 By the aid of her Cestus, Zephyra passes, with the 
 rapidity of a wish, through a region of innumerable 
 worlds arrives at the Star of Paradise. The massy 
 radiance, which, like a circle of sky, incloses the 
 bowers of the happy. Cave of entrance. Death and 
 her band of Maladies. The Purgatory of Coquettes, in 
 which all earthly sins against the Power to whose 
 service they were devoted are expiated, before the 
 new immortals become worthy of admission into the 
 Paradise. Description of various forms of penance* 
 proportioned to the differences of guilt. The Genius 
 of Oblivion, and his goblet of forgetfulness. Opening* 
 of the Cave. Paradise. 
 
 L 2 
 
THE 
 
 STAR OF PARADISE. 
 
 QUICK as a virgin's thought, that o'er the main 
 Speeds, in one heart-pulse, to her absent swain, 
 Quick as that longing lover's sighs are cast 
 On other chnrms, forgetful of the past, 
 So fleet was Zephyra. What mortal view- 
 Could catch the gleamy swiftness as she flew ? 
 
 Ye dames, of wondrous vision, who behoid 
 The hamlet's annals, ere a month have roll'd, 
 Who if a beau and gentle virgin meet, 
 See vows and marriage, at one glance, complete, 
 Or, sadly conscious of some future guile, 
 Mark cruel secrets, in each laugh or smile ! 
 
128 THE STAR [PART VI. 
 
 Not even those eyes, of piercing ken, to see 
 Far distant fates, and things which ne'er shall be, 
 Tho' spectacles had arm'd them doubly bright, 
 Could trace the rapid radiance of her flight. 
 
 Unnumber'd worlds are past : and now, afar, 
 With strange sweet splendour shines a brightening star, 
 Soft, as her liquid beams the dewy Moon 
 Exhales, yet lustrous as the orb of noon. 
 'Tis near: and now, as if one spirit thrill'd 
 The circling air, with joy diffusive fili'd, 
 Thro* all her frame a tender softness glows; 
 She feels the charm, but knows not whence it flows. 
 "Hail" cried the Genius, as the soil she press'd 
 With buoyant foot. " Sweet welcome to my guest ! 
 Within these cliffs, that stretch like circling skies, 
 Thy Paradise of future empire lies, 
 Lo, where it opes !" where'er she turn'dher sight, 
 Rock rose o'er rock, a glittering mass of light. 
 Far winding thro' the steep, one narrow cave 
 To the fenc'd world within sole ingress gave, 
 Not dim like earthly vaults. A beamy wreath 
 The self-sunn'd archway flung on all beneath. 
 
 " Seest thou, who, watchful of the path, askance 
 Still on the entrance turns her lurid glance ? 
 
PART VI.] OF PARADISE. 129 
 
 That form is Death." As sickly tremors start, 
 
 The sound flovv'd shivering thro* the Maiden's heart, 
 
 No spectre gaunt she saw, of bones entwin'd, 
 
 With scythe wide-brandish'd, as to sweep mankind* 
 
 But a plump dame, of pamper 5 d aspect sly, 
 
 With fiendlike scowling merriment of eye. 
 
 One hand an icy needle arm'd, whose blow 
 
 Numbs, at a touch, the quivering heart below, 
 
 Yet wrought so finely, that no eye can trace, 
 
 By gore or scar, the puncture's deadly place. 
 
 Loose from her other hand a pencil hung, 
 
 A feller weapon to the fair and young, 
 
 Light films, to brush from budding cheeks their blooirt, 
 
 And print strange livid hues of ghastly gloom : 
 
 Then, while in stony coldness dimly glare 
 
 Eyes, that once sparkled bliss, or frown'd despair. 
 
 She sits, and gazes, with joy-wrinkled brow, 
 
 And laughs, to think, what vows has Beauty now ! 
 
 Pall-like her robe, and girt, in gorgeous strings, 
 
 Band fringing over band, with beamy rings, 
 
 No gaudy trinkets of a vain delight, 
 
 But toil-won trophies of her busy might; 
 
 Proud, when each bosom, on some spousal day, 
 
 Even her's, who blushes oft and weeps, is gay, 
 
 To cut the tie that binds two gentle fates, 
 
130 THE STAR [PART VI. 
 
 And snatch the triumph of a Power she hates : 
 
 Thro* smiles and laughter sudden shrieks are spread, 
 
 And the trim bridal couch receives the dead. 
 
 So swells her glittering pomp. For bride, or lord, 
 
 Each thousandth conquest from those rites abhorr'd, 
 
 Another ring she numbers to her store ; 
 
 And his own emblem mocks her foe the more. 
 
 Couch'd at the dame's proud seat on either hand, 
 
 Grim Maladies reclin'd, a ghastly band, 
 
 Vain mimics of her power. To speed the waste 
 
 Before her desolating track they haste; 
 
 But short and faint the passing wounds they deal, 
 
 Till the cold bosom own her mightier steel. 
 
 Beside their Queen, who never langour knows, 
 
 They snatch'd from earthly toil a short repose, 
 
 Prompt, at a moment's flight, to wing their way 
 
 From orb to orb, and instant grasp their prey. 
 
 Each o'er the frame, with dews of venom'd gall 
 
 Breathes different taints, but dire to Beauty all' 
 
 One with foul blotches clouds the limpid face, 
 
 And delves a little grave for every grace. 
 
 Another, where the rose's blwsh was seen, 
 
 Bids sickly yellow fade in sicklier green. 
 
 From the soft form, that swam upon the sight* 
 
 Full circling, yet like floating fairies light, 
 
PART VI.] OF PARADISE. 131 
 
 One the sweet roundness steals ; nor lighter grown, 
 More heavy seems the flat cold length of bone. 
 Another, foe to frolic charms, that trance 
 With graceful airs the circle or the dance, 
 Bloats in huge amplitude the shoulder slim, 
 And gives the body's bulk to every limb. 
 Belles sneer, remembering -.gentler Beaux sedate 
 The present view, and leave the past to fate. 
 
 Scar'd at the throng, half wondering, half in dread, 
 The Virgin paus'd, and fear'd the path to tread. 
 
 "Shrink not" her guide quick whisper'd "calm be- 
 hold 
 
 That scowl which sees thee not, securely bold? 
 Tho', in thy world, with bloom transcendent bright 
 Those earthly beauties glow in earthly light, 
 No mortal tints in rays ethereal shine, 
 Thy charms all viewless to each eye but mine." 
 She heard ; yet anxious trembled still, and cast 
 A shuddering look behind her, as she p^ss'd. 
 
 As thro* the cavern's glittering vault they wound, 
 Burst, startling, on the Maid a well-known sound. 
 Now, as from distant chamber?, now more near 
 
132 THE STAR [PART vi. 
 
 Wide-spreading 1 laughter peal'd upon her ear, 
 Not the gay mirth of beaux and virgins blest, 
 Which, sure to follow, scarcely waits the jest, 
 But such as, rival Beauty's shame to swell, 
 In scornful titters flies from Belle to Belle. 
 
 A wondering look the Genius saw her raise, 
 And knew the silent question of her gaze. 
 'Nay, loveliest! think not, what thy ear alarms 
 Some earthly blemish scoffs of mortal charms. 
 Unmark'd thou tread'st ; and, tho' all eyes should see, 
 Can voice of ridicule have sounds for thee ? 
 Yet once, but not so fair like thec on earth 
 They shone, whose anguish gave that laughter birth* 
 Within this arching rock Even now we pass 
 The close barr'd portals. Lo their ponderous mass! 
 In radiant amplitude bright hails are spread, 
 TJie purifying chambers of the dead. 
 To these, immortal, from the void abyss 
 They instant rise, not instant pass to bliss. 
 Each rebel thought reviewed, whatever fair, * 
 Born like some native queen my sway to bear, 
 By vulgar passions won, has sunk from power, 
 And given to love or sloth an idle hour, 
 There waits, unmeet for Paradise, till time 
 And penance due to guilt efface the crime. 
 
i'ART VI.] OF PARADISE. 133 
 
 " Nor short nor slight the sufferance, when the weight 
 Of frequent sin provokes unpitying Fate : 
 But for brief mutiny, in frets begun, 
 And half forgotten ere the dance is done, 
 Wild wanderings more of fancy than the heart, 
 As light the treason, light the venging smart. 
 Now, in some gay saloon, while shines the ball, 
 And music's prelude scarcely waits the call, 
 The happy fair beholds an eager throng 
 Sue her soft steps, to lead the choir along ; 
 She hears the sprightly strain ; her vestment swims, 
 Half girt, half floating graceful round her limbs. 
 Then, while she speeds, to join the frolic, troop, 
 With sudden durance round her bursts a hoop ; 
 In vain she stops, in vain, with angry haste, 
 Shrinks, writhes, and tears, to free her cumber'd waist ; 
 Wide, and more wide, the whalebone's circling bound 
 At every effort spreads an ampler round. 
 Then swells the sudden laugh ; and, hand in hand, 
 Wheels, link'd in rapid ring, the tittering band. 
 
 " Some guiltier belle a waited beau invites 
 Careful to tend the toilet's anxious rites. 
 She views her mirror : -but how starts her eye, 
 Strange wrinkles on h^r faded brow to spy ! 
 
 M 
 
13* THE STAR [PART VI. 
 
 And ah her bloomless cheeks ! What demon's rag-e 
 
 Has chill'd their blush, with sallow tints of age ! 
 
 Cosmetic succour won, a vermeil hue 
 
 All soft she spreads; and, lo! the rouge is blue. 
 
 In vain she wipes, and washes, frets, and scrubs : 
 
 The horrid azure deepens as she rubs. 
 
 She lifts the comb, where glossy ringlets stray : 
 
 Touch'd by that comb, each glossy lock is grey ; 
 
 But other tresses, twin'd with graceful skill, 
 
 Play round her front ; and ail is auburn still. 
 
 Alas ! their lustre by contagion flown, 
 
 Those borrow'd tresses whiten like her own. 
 
 He comes. Impatient of delay, in mood 
 
 Half gay, half angry, dares the youth intrude : 
 
 She shrieks and flies. Regardless of her speed, 
 
 He follows swift, and clasping claims his meed, 
 
 Turns her averted face, now stripped of charms ; 
 
 And, starting, shuddering, drops her from his arms, 
 
 " Thus, for short sins, short hours of penance flow ; 
 But heavier guilt demands more lasting wo. 
 If, sick of bliss, some heart, in freakish gloom 
 Long 1 rebel, have abjur'd its queenly doom, 
 In one dull chamber must the fair remain j 
 A single youth her solitary swam. 
 
TART VI.] OF PARADISE. 135 
 
 There, while on earth, as many moons revolve, 
 As days were conscious of her rash resolve, 
 Save that one placid swain, no object find, 
 For all the witcheries of her eyes and mind. 
 She smiles. Her soul's unutter'd jest is sought ; 
 As if a smile but spoke some mirthful thought. 
 She sighs, and looks as fondest Beauty grieves ; 
 He asks her tale of sorrow, and believes ; 
 Thinks all the sadness for some lap-dog torn, 
 And proves by precept, that 'tis vain to mourn. 
 Sidelong a tender glance is sent, and oft 
 Another steals, another yet more soft : 
 He looks around, examines all with care, 
 And asks, if aught she seek his aid can bear. 
 She sings, he listens ; she the strain prolongs ; 
 He praises, but he talks of bards and songs. 
 To gentler themes she guides, the converse fills 
 With love's sweet tyranny, and lovers' ills, 
 Sad legends of long suffering hearts, that won 
 In death one look, content to be undone, 
 Youths, whose soft trust insidious rivals steal, 
 And virgins trembling at the flame they feel. 
 On all, her comment, sagely tender, glows, 
 And justifies the flame, and mourns the woes, 
 Expounds, from light regards how passion springs, 
 
136 THE STAR [PART VI. 
 
 With woman's subtile lore of amorous things, 
 
 Lore, that, when Beauty lectures thro' her tears, 
 
 Melts with the warmth she paints each heart that hears 
 
 Vain eloquence ! Its tenderest truths to scan, 
 
 All calm and cold, as man debates with man, 
 
 He grants, objects, now questions, now replies, 
 
 Nor seems to think his disputant has eyes ; 
 
 As if she used no logic but of speech, 
 
 Spoke to be heard, and reason'd but to teach. 
 
 So toils the day ; and, many a day, must roll 
 
 The same sad circle o'er her sickening soul, 
 
 Each grace, or gay or soft, its toils renew, 
 
 As gay, as soft, and ah ! as powerless too. 
 
 No second swain gives livelier hopes to start 
 
 With sweet refreshment to the weary heart ; 
 
 But one calm aspect still her glance must find, 
 
 That kindly smiles, but never smiles more kind : 
 
 As when, on solitary heights, the blaze 
 
 Of summer sunshine on the glacier plays, 
 
 The radiant mass, as if the beam it felt, 
 
 Glows, but impassive still denies to melt. 
 
 "Dire lot ! yet direr her's, whose single beau 
 At the first glance h#s soften'd in the glow ! 
 Tho* by one only swain were Beauty view'd, 
 
PART VI.] OF PARADISE. 137 
 
 While still unconquer'd, one may be subdued ; 
 
 Gay airs, or softest languishings, that fail, 
 
 May find a warmer moment, and prevail ; 
 
 And even the iciest bosom, hard to ope, 
 
 Still leaves one joy, the glorious joy of hope. 
 
 But with a slave, already tamed, to live, 
 
 Who sighs, and has no second heart to give ; 
 
 "To hear, while tardy months like ages creep, 
 
 One moan, which lulls to yawn, but not to sleep ; 
 
 The fondness of one wearying gaze to brook, 
 
 Which looks, that it has nothing more to look, 
 
 Dread doom ! When days, and weeks, and months are 
 
 past, 
 
 And days still come, more dreary than the last, 
 How would she wish, in mercy to her pain, 
 His heart unwon, to win it o'er again ; 
 How gladly meet, in joy her arms to wield, 
 The sternest breast, that never knew to yield ! 
 Sighs, praise, soft chidings, every tender art, 
 But wake more fretful sadness in her heart, 
 Remind of conquest's charm, and, while they own 
 How sweet to triumph, shew that charm is flown. 
 
 "Shrinks thy quick pity ? There are crimes, that cost 
 Severer sorrows, ere their stain be lost. 
 M 2 
 
138 THE STAR [PART vi. 
 
 Alas ! If sluggish fondness long obscure] 
 The bright ambition of a soul once pure, 
 Not by the simple griefs these vaults afford, 
 Is fair coquettish sanctity restored, 
 But, with due pangs to renovate the saint, 
 Must deeper penance cleanse the deeper taint, 
 
 . ' Then must the earth-loos' d spirit speed afar, 
 Where Love inglorious tends his glimmering star ; 
 For months, for years, as lasting guilt has spread, 
 His dismal Paradise condemn'd to tread, 
 Till, bath'd in ceaseless grief, from day to day, 
 It sigh the burthen of its sins away. 
 
 " O blest, who, never on its confines hurl'd, 
 But bear's t the horrors of that dreary world ! 
 How sad, whose lonely vision still must range 
 O'er smiling pairs, and pairs that never change, 
 Earth's wives and virgin lovers, doom'd to glow 
 Self-punish'd with the flame they felt below, 
 Content to find their simple mates above, 
 And yawn a dull eternity of love ! 
 
 " Soft is their sky; and eyes, of practis'd gleam. 
 Might sweetly languish, in so mild a beam : 
 
PART VI.] OF PARADISE. I3j) 
 
 But, ignorant of charms, or only taught 
 
 That easy glance, which speaks the passing thought, 
 
 They never learn'd its little power to aid, 
 
 By looks that vary with the light and shade. 
 
 On the slow walk, where arm and arm intwines, 
 
 Or seat, where half the melting form reclines, 
 
 Unfading groves a tender shelter cast, 
 
 Shade of the present, record of the past : 
 
 Fond vows are broke by rapture's mingling kiss, 
 
 And even the very sighs seem sighs of bliss. 
 
 Who hears those whisper'd vows, and turns to mark 
 
 The frail memorial of the letter'd bark, 
 
 Would deem, some late-warm'd stripling carv'd the name, 
 
 And breath J d, or heard first own'd, a secret flatne. 
 
 Alas ! her ancient praise still prints the rind, 
 
 Who, even on earth, was impudently kind ; 
 
 And the warm voice of rapture but endears 
 
 Some silly fondness, of a thousand years. 
 
 " Think, what my exile's griefs, thus doom'd to see 
 Names of fond triumph live on every tree, 
 But not her own, t<v breathe the very air 
 Still whispering praises of less radiant fair ; 
 Nor, in that atmosphere of vows, to trace 
 One rapture conscious of her smile or grace ! 
 
140 THE STAB [PART v 
 
 What anguish, when, too eloquent, apart 
 To her some simperer pours her happy heart, 
 Tells how her swain, ere half a wish arise, 
 Foresees the joy, and shares it from her eyes! 
 What worse than anguish, when, by grove or stream, 
 That swain ungallant dares a ruder theme, 
 Sings Other charms, recounts each jestless word 
 Of wit, that scarcely knows to be absurd ;- 
 Nor sues with fond petition, but to tell 
 If charms, so matchless, can be lov'd too well ! 
 O ! could she vex them ! Vain that hope of ire. 
 One ne'er is jealous ; one will ne'er admire : 
 And the sole joy, her powerless vengeance greets, 
 Is but to scorn and hate whate'er she meets. 
 Hetir'd, she feeds her venom's rankling store, 
 And loaths, and longs, and envying loaths the more. 
 Then, 'mid her gloomy passion's sullen blaze, 
 New forms of rapture float upon her gaze, 
 Meek pairs, that smile> caressing and caress'd; 
 And all is pleasure save her maddening breast." 
 
 "Cease, cease, in mercy save m%!" cried the Fair; 
 *' Such cruel doom shall virgin errors share ! 
 To hear is half to feel." " Nay, shrink not thou ! 
 Absolv'd, let past forgiveness clear thy 'brow ! 
 
PART VI.] OF PARADISE. 141 
 
 Leave those to tremble, who their hearts pollute 
 With vulgar fondness, at some trifler's suit! 
 Once thou has sinn'd : one pardon sin may crave 
 Thy vision'd glories from new guilt will save. 
 Yet, warn'd, remember! and, if love allure, 
 Think of its stain, its penance, and be pure !'* 
 
 Her step oft pausing, as with wild controul 
 The imag'd horrors fix'd her listening soul, 
 Far thro* the deep recess the Fair had pac'd, 
 Scarce conscious of the winding path she trac'd. 
 One narrow sweep remain'd, when soon would lie 
 All Paradise beneath her glowing eye. 
 While yet the sudden-jutting rock conceal'd 
 That world of rapture, at a step reveal'd, 
 How started Zephyra, as near she drew, 
 A mass of shade dim-towering on her view ! 
 Broad was the giant form ; but who could mark 
 The floating shape, immeasurably dark ! 
 One dusky veil, in ample folds unbound, 
 Wrapt the whole frame, and loosely swept the ground. 
 Reveai'd not what it wrapt, yet gave to know 
 Some living thing, that faintly stirr'd below. 
 Self-dark, it gleam'd a misty horror wide ; 
 The very blaze, that flash'd on every side, 
 
142 THE STAR [PART VI- 
 
 Bright as the sunny rock from which it sprung*, 
 Around, half quench'd, like fading twilight hung. 
 
 Near a dull fount, scarce creeping thro' the cave, 
 It stood, the Genius of the dismal wave. 
 No rill seem'd laughing o'er the rock to dance, 
 With mirth-inviting voice, and sparkling glance ; 
 No water trickled, all one bubby swell 
 Of foam slow-heav'd, that rose and burst, and fell. 
 Some, in a jetty goblet, like the fount 
 Still foam'd, and sunk, in other froth to mount. 
 This, as if proffering, in his shadowy grasp, 
 The living Darkness clasp'd, or seem'd to clasp ; 
 For the thick veil, that widely mantled o'er, 
 But show'd the cup, nor mark'd the hand that bore. 
 
 Curious, yet trembling, half approach'd the Fair. 
 I'Hold," cried her guide, "Oblivion's cup forbear! 
 "Who tastes forgets. From half dried tears distilFd, 
 Frailest of frailest things, that bowl is fill'd, 
 Sad drops, by grateful heirs, long watchful, shed, 
 Who count his acres, while they mourn the dead; 
 Or parting lovers, who, for solace, go, 
 One to his belle, the other to her beau ; 
 Or dames, who, still with mild remembrance vex'd, 
 
PART VI.] OF PARADISE. 143 
 
 Weep one lov'd husband, ere they \vcd the next. 
 Then memory warmM them. Now they lull, refm'd 
 To pure forge if ulness, the dreamy mind. 
 
 "When the last sighs of earthly breath dismiss 
 The transient charmer, to her home of bliss, 
 That no vain thought of human empire reft 
 May mix a sadness for the slaves she left, 
 The ne\v immortal, in that bowl serene 
 Ere Paradise receive another queen, 
 With gentle draught, each care terrestrial steeps ; 
 Her charms, and passions, all of e.arth she keeps. 
 But thpiif still destin'd, mid thine earthly throng 1 , 
 Those charms, those powers, those passions to prolong-, 
 Bear with thee back, to scenes thy glance has sway'd, 
 Whatever remembrance can thy triumphs aid. 
 Still, 'mid fond eyes, review thy labours done, 
 That arts, which vanquish'd, may secure them won; 
 Still know the long assail'd, long stubborn swain, 
 With varied charms to win him to thy reign !" 
 
 Hark! on her ear what tender sounds arise, 
 Gay as kind titters, soft as yielding sighs ! 
 Now wider opes the rock; now glides she through ;- 
 And. all is Paradise, that meets her view. 
 
THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES, 
 
 PART VII. 
 THE BOVVERS OF PARADISE. 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 Address to Woman. Her soul better fitted than that of 
 Man, for conceiving- the Paradise that is pictured to 
 her. The species of light which floats over the scene. 
 The fragrance. The air. The forms of the fair Im- 
 mortals. Their vestments. Their celestial worship- 
 pers. The general appearance of the scene itself. Its 
 lighter beauties. Its sublimer objects, that, in their 
 very sublimity, still bear relation to the Beauty, for 
 which alone they were formed. Its fleeting changes 
 of natural aspect and of the edifices that diversify 
 it as they rise and fall. The simpler bowers. Seem- 
 ing adaption of them for a single lover, while they 
 permit and favour, the widest influence of Beauty. 
 Brighter vision, which allows charms in Paradise to 
 be seen at every distance. The vocal whispering's 
 of the foliage t)f "the ethereal bowers contrasted with 
 the indistinct murmur of earthly leaves. Peculiar 
 reflection from the waters. The charms of the scene 
 itself almost 1'ost in the more powerful charm of the 
 living throngs that cover it. 
 N 
 
THE 
 
 BOWERS OF PARADISE. 
 
 HARD sons of rugged Earth, who, coldly taught, 
 Weigh every word, and question every thought> 
 Who, dull to catch the painter's glowing plan, 
 And finish what his rapid line began, 
 Might trace an imaged heaven before you spread, 
 Nor see one tint, but those his pencil shed ! 
 To you I sing not. While soft glance or sigh 
 Can bless my lay, no bard for scowlers I. 
 
 But thou exulting Nature's happiest birth, 
 Whom many a frolic Pleasure led to Earth, 
 When laugh* d the air afar, and now around 
 Near, and yet nearer, s\vell'd the choral sound,-~ 
 
148 THE BOWERS [PART YJI 
 
 Till, as thy step the freshening verdure press'd, 
 Joy burst his slumber, and the world was blest ! 
 O Woman, ever gentle ! to thy ear 
 Sweet be the votive song, thou deign' st to hear 1 
 
 So kindred all to bliss thy soul, thy sight, 
 With eyes that look, and thoughts that breathe delight, 
 Still to thy spirit, half divine, is given 
 Some readier presage of its future heaven, 
 Some harmony of joy, whose faithful tone 
 Warm vibrates to the raptures soon its own. 
 Tho' my light powerless touch, with colours faint, 
 But sketch the pleasures, which it cannot paint, 
 Thy genius, kindling with the quick design, 
 Can spread each hue, and fill the flowing line ; 
 Accordant to each vision'd scene, shall start 
 Dim images, that slept within thy heart ; 
 Till, as thy fancy lends its brightening aid, 
 Glow the full Paradise, it half pourtray'd. 
 
 Yes ! to thy vivid soul its truths belong ; 
 Thine, Beauty, thine, the poet and the song. 
 All bright to thee the bliss, whose shadowy view 
 In vain would Man's ungifted eye pursue ; 
 
PART VII.] OF PARADISE. 149 
 
 To his dull glance that world of joy might seem 
 The short faint glitter of some idler's dream. 
 
 Yet if, when charms which bless M his life are o'er, 
 The grateful lover would their fate explore, 
 Their radiant heaven reveal'd, who, as they smil'd, 
 Made Paradise to him this earthly wild, 
 Then, while his sluggish fancy toils, too dark 
 Celestial pleasure's finer tints to mark, 
 To aid the vision, let his memory stray 
 O'er happiest moments of each happiest day, 
 In one wide rapture blend whate'er could please, 
 And slowly sum what Woman instant sees ! 
 Long-treasur'd smiles shall rise; and looks of love 
 Warm, with faint image of some joy above. 
 
 Where, Beauty, in her pomp of sweetness drest. 
 First beam'd, in sudden transport, on the breast, 
 Or, lovelier, where her eye kind warmth reveal'd, 
 And said, or almost seem'd to say, I yield, 
 Tho' many a month have linger'd, ere the sod 
 Which own'd her graceful step again is trod, 
 Who has not felt a gentle charm serene 
 Live in each colour of the glowing scene ? 
 O'er bower and dell a tender gladness plays, 
 N 2 
 
150 THE BOWERS [PART YII. 
 
 Joy but to look, and luxury to gaze. 
 
 So sweet, so mildly thrilling 1 , on the sight 
 
 Shines the pure softness of that heavenly light. 
 
 When the swift sun has chas'd a summer shower, 
 Or evening's earliest dewdrops kiss the flower, 
 His course, half musing, if the wanderer take, 
 Down the green lane, or by the tangled brake, 
 What thousand sweets the mingling fragrance swel-1, 
 From humid leaf, bright cup, and drooping bell ; 
 Unknown each odour's part, the gentle strife 
 One freshness all of aromatic life! 
 Not the coy turf-hid violet only greets, 
 Bashful and mild, with undistinguished sweets ; 
 Lost, in the full delight, what prouder flows 
 From clustering woodbine, and the flaunting rose. 
 Tho* throb with quicker life his active breast, 
 Slow roves the loiterer, by the charm possess'd ; 
 And still, at every step, the changeful bloom 
 New incense breathes, and every breath perfume. 
 Such, in those bowers, a joy without a name, 
 Which all inhale, yet think not whence it came, 
 Immortal fragrance dwells ; so, hovering o'er, 
 Still charms, still changes, but to charm the more. 
 
PART VII.] OF PARADISE. 1,51 
 
 When Beauty carols sweet some mournful lay, 
 And the last cadence faintly floats away, 
 Till not a murmur breathe, and all be still 
 As the warm lip that woke the fervent thrill, 
 Who has not felt, of gifted soul to hear 
 More than light notes that die within the ear,-^- 
 A softening pleasure pause, as if around 
 The air still trembled with some melting sound 3 
 Thus ever, but with softer joy intense, 
 Unheard, yet almost trembling on the sense, 
 Lives that pure calm divine : tho* still the air, 
 The floating soul of music all is there. 
 
 Such are the joys, that mingled sweetness shower, 
 An atmosphere of bliss, from bower to bower, 
 Diffusive charms, that temper, while combin'd, 
 Gay plans and triumphs of the busy mind, 
 And, ever present, with delight unsought, 
 Fill all the little intervals of thought. 
 Quick as her step in Paradise, they play'd 
 In transport, round the half-unconscious maid,- 
 Unconscious, for her soul still softlier drew 
 The living forms that crowded on her view, 
 Belles, and if Paradise the lay disclose, 
 Sweet listeners! need I add, those Belles had Beaux ? 
 
152 THE BOWERS [PART VII. 
 
 L 
 
 From matter pure, yet warm with living bloom, 
 Thin essence of a shade, without its gloom, 
 Bright shone the female charms. With quick compare, 
 The mortal charmer knew her own less fair ; 
 As quick her pride, that brighter power to trace 
 In the free spirit's all-refining grace : 
 Her future self presageful she beheld, 
 With haughty omen, pleas'd to be excelPd. 
 On vulgar beauty if such power was thrown, 
 What lavish lustre would adorn her own, 
 Her own, still loveliest, that from heavenly birth 
 Would rise transcendent, as it rul'd on earth ! 
 
 The robes, which those soft forms ethereal bound, 
 Ethereal tissues, glittered bright around, 
 Of changeful tint and shape; a wondering view 
 Scarce own'd the splendour, ere the splendour flew. 
 No eye the shifting vesture's flight could trace; 
 One gleam'd, another glitter'd in its place, 
 Now gay, now simple, now of pomp profuse, 
 Now folded half-succinct, now circling loose, 
 As if light Beauty's very mantle caught 
 Each quick caprice, that flutter'd in her thought 
 
1'AllT VII.] OB 1 PARADISE. 153 
 
 If bright the Belles, to Zephyra's sage sight 
 The Beaux celestial seem'd a throng as bright. 
 Yet who, tho' skili'd in raptures, to divine 
 From love-warm'd eyes what brighter beams will shine, 
 Of those bright eyes the radiance could foretel, 
 When looks adoring shone from Beau to Belle I 
 Dear, even on earth, the suppliant glance to sect 
 "When Man, the despot, is what Man should be, 
 Submits to Woman's smile his weak command, 
 Nor thinks of sceptres, when uhe waves her hand; 
 Yet O ! faint image of the joys, that rise 
 In every languish of celestial eyes. 
 Even Zephyra, the tender warmth who knew 
 Unmeant for her, still gladden'd in the view, 
 Still gaz'd, <ind, while she gaz'd, her humbler lot, 
 Earth, Paradise, love, envy, all forgot; 
 As if the glance, tho' fix'd on other fair, 
 With more of raptnre than one soul could bear, 
 Like some charm'd light, whose every ray must bless, 
 O'erflow'dto all around, with sweet excess. 
 
 Fix'd by those living smiles, scarce stole between 
 A careless glance, unlingering, on the scene: 
 Yet well that scene might gaze of homage call, 
 Undeck'd by smiles, with beauties native all. 
 
THE BOWERS [PART VII. 
 
 Yes ! ye were there O hills, O mazy vales, 
 Woods, waters, all which Nature's wanderer hails, 
 Whate'er in Earth's wide glory gives to thrill 
 The pausing eye, but O how lovelier still ! 
 Such, but how fairer ! as the vision given 
 To poet's slumber, when his sleep is heaven, 
 That oft, 'mid fancy's wilder shapes, appeal's 
 True as some well-known scene of others years, 
 Some shadowy softness, of diviner light, 
 Than earthly tints e'er flasli'd upon the sight, 
 Which yet remembrance owns, and hails its gleam 
 The half-lost image of a long-past dream ! 
 
 Could the dull eye discern what glows refiu'd 
 The full conception of the master's mind, 
 When, proud to pour on canvas all his thought, 
 Some beauteous world his daring skill has wrought, 
 And, while observant throngs, the labour o'er, 
 Exulting, praising, wondering, half adore, 
 ' Still scans, with secret sigh, the feeble line, 
 Too cold, to image half the warm design, 
 Nay, not that vivid loveliness could yield 
 Fair semblance of the lovelier world reveal'd. 
 
PART VII.] OF PARADISE. 155 
 
 Chief was the scene in gentler charms array'd,- 
 Lawns, where light groves but gleanVd a doubtful shade, 
 Soft sloping banks, whose closer woods beneath 
 Now o'er the streamlet hung their darkening wreath, 
 Now, loose retiring, oped that waveless glow, 
 Which scarce the whispering murmur mark'd to flow : 
 Lights such as Beauty loves, that might supply 
 Harmonious lustre to her tender eye. 
 
 Yet was not all, of gay or tender grace : 
 Sublimer pomp, there found its awful place ; 
 Dark mountain summits, on whose heights, that tower'd 
 In stern, still gloom, yet darker forests lower'd, 
 Wide, as some demon-hand's resistless shock 
 Had lifted, with its woods, a realm of rock; 
 Save where, in foamy light, a dazzling form, 
 The giant cataract, itself a storm, 
 Bade with hoarse howl the feebler thunders hail, 
 And seem'd to fling whole ocean on the vale. 
 
 Even there, what Horror might sublime have viewM 
 Was fram'd for feelings of a gentler mood. 
 Calm as if shelter'd, at the mountain's feet, 
 The vale had sunk, in many a soft retreat, 
 The forest shade, the cataract's dread throne, 
 
156 THE BOWERS [PART VII 
 
 The wild waste grandeur, form'd for these alone ; 
 Where, like Night's tender beams, that loveliest gTicte 
 Thro* opening clouds, when all is dim beside, 
 A new and softer grace, from solemn Awe 
 Stern ministress of charms, might Beauty draw, 
 When, 'mid the rocky glooms and torrent's roar, 
 Who gaz'd on smiles would feel and love them more. 
 
 Not constant shines the scene. The fair expanse 
 Flits oft, with sudden change, and mocks the glance. 
 Where tower'd the hill, a bloomy lawn is spread; 
 And vanish'd rivers yield to groves their bed 
 With change more frequent richer splendours start* 
 Domes, columns, all the wealth of seeming art : 
 For, not as Earth's dull empire blooms or frowns, 
 Here constant fields, and there more constant towns, 
 Mixed is the charm; and in the varying ray, 
 The grandeur softens, and the soft seems gay. 
 Light as rhe crowds it circles, floats along 
 The spreading palace o'er the swelling throng : 
 Arch gleams on arch, where mead or thicket smiPd, 
 And spires, and pillars, shoot along the wild ; 
 As if, from many a realm of proudest name, 
 What gives each splendid cry hulfits fame, 
 Tower, theatre, bright temple, gor r ous hall, 
 
PART VII.] OF PARADISE. 157 
 
 Swept by one magic hand, there mingled all. 
 Swift-fading 1 pomp ! A glance beholds it rise ; 
 Another glance oft seeks it, and it flies. 
 
 But who, of fleetest vision quick to rove, 
 Could count the bowers, that gleam in every grove, 
 Bowers, to whose shade the willing branches press, 
 And scarce a tree denies some kind recess. 
 No ample roof those verdant arches bear ; 
 They close and canopy a single pair, 
 Where Beauty, as she lists one fondest tone, 
 Shut from all worship, save that one alone, 
 Might seem, to simple glance. Tho' clustering meet, 
 Where bends her swain, the foliage at her feet, 
 Loose, where she higher sits, and half withdrawn 
 From bower to bower, then opening on the lawn, 
 The widening branches, as if all were free, 
 Give the dear pleasure, to be seen and see, 
 While, mark'd and lost by glimpses, livelier plays 
 Her eye's mild lustre, thro* the twinkling sprays. 
 
 On farthest crowds that radiance sparkles bright : 
 Not there, as in our dull and vapoury light, 
 The charms, which happy gazers circle fond, 
 Are cold and beamless to all eyes beyond. 
 O 
 
158 THE BOWERS [PART VII. 
 
 O gladdenersof this sublunary sphere! 
 
 If, what our glowing hearts confess you near, 
 
 Ye shone to distant vision, proud, on earth, 
 
 Were empire, paradise even mortal birth. 
 
 But ah ! tho* Wisdom quit his lore, to seek 
 
 The softer art, that wins to smiles the cheek, 
 
 Tho* courtly Grandeur haste to kneel, less vain 
 
 Oi' knightly silk, than of a softer chain, 
 
 Still leaves unconquer'd that victorious grace 
 
 Two powers of stern dominion, Time and Space. 
 
 Time, gentler tyrant-, spares thro* many an hour ; 
 
 But, every moment, strikes the rival Power, 
 
 Leaves not a smile's full triumph, and that throne 
 
 Bounds to one little spot, which earth might own. 
 
 A few short furlongs spread, and. who shall tell 
 From her grave grandmother the laughing belle, 
 Or, where barouche with rival chariots strives, 
 The groom gay-lolling from the Peer who drives ? 
 There, brighter-glowing Paradise to each 
 Wafts the full form, wherever beam can reach; 
 Her changeful place, tho* Beauty far should stray, 
 Mark'd by slight softenings of the vivid ray, 
 So slight, as only woo new airs, to arm 
 For varying distances the varying charm. 
 
PART VII.] OF PARADISE. 159 
 
 When Summer's cloudless sun forbids to rove 
 The mead, and sends the wanderer to the grove, 
 Sweet, even on earth, if mildest zephyrs shake 
 The sighing leaves, that gentle voice they make ; 
 Yet lists it not the heart, an idle sound, 
 That only says, What coolness breathes around ; 
 With happier murmurs float the bowers above, 
 ThrilPd into words, as if they whisper'd love. 
 When o'er the grove a breeze of ether springs, 
 Fann'd, to sweet flutter of harmonious things, 
 The bending quivering foliage vocal all, 
 From every spray what soul-like breathings fall, 
 Sounds, of sure charm, enamour'd, that restore 
 Past joys to Beauty's thought, and whisper more ! 
 Tho' pause a moment's homage on her ear, 
 That very pause has words divine to hear : 
 Each leaf seems trembling with a tender vow, 
 And little flatteries breathe from bough to bough. 
 
 The streams, that thro' the laugh ing vallies glide* 
 Or linger in the lake with slumbering tide, 
 To softest forms as pure a mirror bear 
 An4 many an image glows reflected there. 
 'But not like earthly rills, which pictur'd send 
 The dullest weeds, that o'er their margin bend ; 
 
160 THE BOWERS [PART VII- 
 
 The heavenly waters, as in scorn to hold 
 
 One shape that lives not warm of rapture's mould, 
 
 Nor domes reflect, nor flower-wreath'd rock, nor tree ; 
 
 Smiles, glances, graces, all they give to see. 
 
 Yet beams no scanty radiance on the sight ; 
 
 For like that mystic glass, of lavish light, 
 
 "Which from one form a copious image spreads,^ 
 
 Soft multiplies each wave the stifles it sheds. 
 
 The fair, reclining on the slope, where stand 
 
 In circling group a gaily duteous band, 
 
 Sees wider crowds, inverted, stiH prolong 
 
 Her sway, and almost wonders at the throng. 
 
 Where'er she turns, admiring glances glow;- 
 
 And all above is bliss, and all below. 
 
 Such were those scenes to vision, could they lie 
 In self-deck'd charms, before some lonely eye, 
 A world of wild magnificence, where Art, 
 Sportful as Nature, claims no prouder part, 
 While seems the quick-sprung colonnade to tower 
 Spontaneous from the vale, like rock or bower, 
 Glades, where a fancy-brooding heart might dwell, 
 And feed on loveliness in every dell ; 
 So lovely were that world, of living grace, 
 More der, denied not, half the charm to trace. 
 
PART VII.] OF PARADISE. 161 
 
 But o'er the lawns, and in the gleamy shade 
 
 Of groves, and radiant openings of the glade, 
 
 Such throngs are spread profuse, the bright expanse 
 
 Glows all one melting smile, or mirthful glance ;- 
 
 The scene itself scarce mark'd, but as it wears 
 
 Some tender semblance of the charms it bears, 
 
 And every joy, its native beauties give, 
 
 Felt, as if flowing from those charms that live. 
 
 O 2 
 
THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES, 
 
 PART VIII. 
 THE JOYS AND GRACES OF PARADISE. 
 
 AJTAILYSJS. 
 
 The joys, which Zephyra observes in Paradise, however 
 vivid and varied, still bear an affinity to the occupa- 
 tions and pleasures of earth ; the very charms and pas- 
 sions of mortal Woman, being themselves only a faint 
 mspiraticn of those which she is to display and feel, 
 in the brghter world that awaits her. Universal ho- 
 mage the delight of Paradise, as it is the ambition of 
 Karth. There, by the aid. of one potent illusion, each 
 feels, as exclusively her own, the worship that is paid 
 to all. The worship_enjoyed,*not with the dullness of 
 certain possession, but with that slight mixture of gen- 
 
 ; tie doubt, which renders so delightful on earth the 
 first moments of conquest. The pleasure heightened 
 by slight occasional alarms, that are dissipated almost 
 as soon as they arise. Continual succession of ado- 
 rers, and new aspects under which they appear.' Com- 
 prehensiveness of memory, which gives, in a single 
 
164 
 
 glance, the remembrance of all who have adored. 
 Kapid changes of scenery, magnificent or simple, and 
 uf the very splendour or dimness of the light that 
 flows around, in instant accordance with the species of 
 grace or beauty wished to be displayed. Difficulty 
 for a mortal to trace the delights of the scene, while 
 she endeavours to comprehend the whole multitude 
 before her. Zephyra therefore fixes on a single fair, 
 and watches her through the display of hei graces 
 and triumphs. Music. Difference of the dances of 
 Paradise and Earth. -Painting. Coquetries of science. 
 Disputation in heavenly physics. Mode of adjudging 
 the victory. Zephyra, with increasing impatience and 
 anger at her own invisibility, in the midst of idoration 
 of which she cannot partake, flies at last from Para- 
 dise, not to return to it, till she can herself be seen. 
 Number of feelings comprised in a few heavenly mo- 
 ments, and shortness of the earthly time that has 
 elapsed during her absence. Disappearance of the 
 Cestus, carried upward by its own levity. She retires 
 to rest. Dreams, and sinks at last to more profound 
 repose. 
 
THE 
 
 JOYS AND GRACES OF PARADISE. 
 
 YES, Woman, yes ! tho' all our eyes behold, 
 In that sweet radiance of terrestrial mould, 
 Even while we bless and hang upon thy will, 
 Fairest of mortal forms, is mortal still, 
 Tho* smiles shall vanish from the lip, and fly 
 ILove's thousand voices from the glistening eye, 
 Not mortal is the living lustre given, 
 That shines thro* every hue, with charms of heaven, 
 Even now, instinctive prescience to thy mien 
 Lends many a grace of triumphs yet unseen, 
 O'er all thy soul a softer gladness showers 
 And warms with passions of ethereal bowers, . 
 
166 JOYS AND GRACES [PART VIII. 
 
 Whatever the wish, that animates thy glance, 
 Melts in the song-, or kindles in the dance, 
 With smiles, which bid who witness hope to share, 
 And frowns, whose very wrath forbids despair, 
 That wish, and all its charms, of gentlest birth, 
 Are light which Paradise has deign'd to Earth : 
 Reflected from thy smile we feel it shine, 
 Mark not the source, but know the beam divine. 
 The bard, who hallows with thy praise his flame, 
 Nymph, angel, goddess, each celestial name, 
 Warm'd by that light, which only lovers see, 
 But speaks prophetic, what thou soon shalt be. 
 
 And bless'd the fate, which gives thy heart below 
 With future passions tender joy to glow ! 
 What if,' till heaven's full transport flow'd possest, 
 No kindred wish had thrill'd thy mortal breast, 
 For love's gay studies different lore been dealt, 
 Stones, salts, or metals, all thou car'dst to melt, 
 Thy sullen pastime squares to cube, or class 
 The cylinder's and cone's proportion'd mass, 
 Then Earth, thy Earth, so sweet for man to tread, 
 Were the dull prison of the breathing dead. 
 
 What raptures, as she scann'd the heavenly maze, 
 Had beam'd on Zephyra's permitted gaze ! 
 
PART VIII.] OE PARADISE. 167 
 
 Yet, in each rapture, had the virgin caught 
 Some native joy, familiar to her thought, 
 Semblance of Earth, as Beauty's living light 
 Of the dim shade, that marks her track with night. 
 More bright the blissful glance ; yet still, above, 
 Beaux gaz'd on Belles, and gaz'd with looks of love. 
 
 "Think not" the Genius said, while round her pourM 
 Adoring crowds fond hymns to crowds ador'd, 
 "Think not, the belle enjoys no beam of praise, 
 Save that best worship destin'd for her gaze! 
 If every smiler shar'd some tender look, 
 Poor were the triumph, which all hearts partook-; 
 The pride, the charm, my bounteous art combines, 
 At once extends the blessing, and confines, 
 Spreads sweet illusion, by whose power secure 
 Flows the free joy, yet flows from envy pure. 
 
 " At bright Hilaria's seat, do lovers sigh ? 
 Each look to Lydia seems a wislv to fly. 
 When Lydia's ear a tender suppliant woos, 
 Each look seems truant, which Hilaria views. 
 On thousand nymphs tho* thousand glances fall, 
 Each, harmless plunderer, reaps the joy of all> 
 Thinks on herself those thousand glances thrown* 
 Reigns amid circling queens, yet reigns alone, 
 
168 JOYS AND GRACES [PART VIII. 
 
 Who kneels afar, some gentle vow to pay, 
 
 With low-bent front, which gives no glance to stray, 
 
 As if his very flight but mark'd, how sweet 
 
 Eyes, which he sadly shunn'd, afraid to meet, 
 
 Still seems, that sad impatience to avow, 
 
 In act to turn his still-averted brow. 
 
 " So when, on canvas, from the gorgeous frame, 
 The melting virgin, or the ardent dame, 
 That bloom'd, in charms which many a rhyme records, 
 On mouldering kings, and long-forgotten lords, 
 In pictur'd youth, immortal still, to wage 
 The gentle warfare of another age, 
 Beams on the sons of sons th6 smile, whose glow 
 Warm'd the brisk grandsire, when he danc'd, a beau; 
 Tho* fifty gazers share that smile confest, 
 On each apart its softness^seems to rest, 
 Rests, as if each were all, with tender grace, 
 Still fix'd, and faithful to his changing place. 
 Even he, whom scarce the portal bids advance, 
 Seems hail'd at entrance, by that waiting glance, 
 The glance which follows thro' the long saloon, 
 And, even at parting, says he parts too soon. 
 
 "Can looks of potent wile in gold be set ? 
 Is woman's very image a coquette ? 
 
FART VIII.] OF PARADISE. 169 
 
 If dull dead oils, and duller varnish, gleam 
 O'er half a crowd that kind diffusive beam, 
 What wonder, here, that smiles celestial give 
 Yet wider transport, when the smilers live!" 
 
 " Nay," cried the fair, " I question not the sway. 
 Oft have these very eyes, of dullest ray, 
 These mortal orbs, without one heavenly wile, 
 Bless'd three proud lovers, with a single smile. 
 Yet say, is all the joy, thy world can pour, 
 To see a mob of faithful slaves adore ? 
 Queens may they be : yet tell, for pity's sake, 
 How hearts, so very happy, keep awake !" 
 
 c < O lovelier still in all I see and hear, 
 Even by that doubt, that question, still more dear ! 
 Too well," the Genius answer'd " might thy charms 
 Feel in that frightful thought unfeign'd alarms. 
 No hope to light, no fears to fan a flame ! 
 All slaves, and slaves without one struggle tame'. 
 So fondly dismal if these bowers could be, 
 Not Paradise itself were Earth for thee, 
 But trust the conscious Power, who, wise to scan 
 The secret throbs^ which woman veils from man, 
 Knows, in her bliss to blend each tempering part, 
 And pours the well-mi^'d rapture on the heart, 
 P 
 
170 JOYS AND GRACES [PART VIII. 
 
 Still in that rapture, while each voice is praise. 
 Love in each look, -an anxious softness plays, 
 Sweet doubtfulness of joy, no throb of dread, 
 But tremors gentle as the charm they shed. 
 
 "Even Earth that charm partakes. When fears are 
 
 past, 
 
 And the long-frozen bosom melts at last, 
 When love's first eloquence, with warmth devout, 
 Reveals those tender truths, 'twere sin to doubt, 
 Thou sure hast felt, soft-lingering in the pride, 
 That does not fear, yet scarcely dares confide, 
 Thro' all the bliss a momentary thrill 
 Of half-uncertain wishes tremble still. 
 Too sweet for frail mortality, on earth 
 Brief is the charm, half perishing at birth : 
 Here lives it, lasting ; each adoring boar 
 Like that first moment of victorious power. 
 
 "Yet, sometimes, even that joy to raise for bliss 
 They feel with liveliest charm, who fear'd to miss, 
 And well may rapture pay short sorrow's cost ; 
 A moment seems some gallant smiler lost. 
 'Tis terror; but, ere doubt have ris'n to pain, 
 The truant lover kneels and smiles again. 
 
FART VIII.] OF PARADISE. 171 
 
 "So when serene the noontide radiance glows 
 On some calm bank, which rocks and woods incloae, 
 Where, long-embower* d in gloom, the sunny rill, 
 Glad sparkling in the beam,tho* bright is chill, 
 On that warm sod, uncross'd by wanderer's path, 
 Some youthful blushing sweetness dares the bath. 
 Half bold, half trembling, her last venture thrown, 
 Safe from all view, yet shrinking from her own, 
 Even in the flood, as if one veil to save, 
 With hurrying haste she stoops beneath the wave, 
 Then seeks the slopy turf, and bends, all bright, 
 Her dark lo ks glistening o'er her neck of light. 
 With whu sweet glow, the renovating beam 
 Repays the shivering chillness of the stream! 
 Life owns, in every pulse, the freshening power ; 
 And one short shudder warms thro* many an hour. 
 
 " Such is 'hat shivering fear, when lovers fly ; 
 Such that warm transport, when again they sigh. 
 'Tis quicken'd pleasure all. With livelier dance, 
 The kindling spirit throbs to every glance ; 
 Each voice has double love, and smiles unfold 
 More tenderness, than smiles were deem'd to hold. 
 
 "Nor only doubt's short thrillings I employ, 
 To save the rapture from a sluggish joy : 
 
If 2 JOYS AND GHACES [PART VIII. 
 
 With charm more sure to chase the dull delight, 
 I bid Variety her bliss unite, 
 Still call around, tho' all adore who view, 
 New forms, whose worship makes even fondness new, 
 And still a thousand changeful aspects fling- 
 On each fond signer of the suppliant ring. 
 Ere sated pride the lover could disdain, 
 That alter'd lover seems another swain, 
 Salutes with different tone the gladden'd ear, 
 Dear as the past, as present yet more dear. 
 Unchanged in homage, still one theme prolong 
 The ever-shifting ever constant throng. 
 
 "Yet vain the widening triumph's changeful glow, 
 Vain all the thousand shapes of every beau, 
 If, feeble still, the earth-loos'd spirit cast 
 No wider vision o'er the radiant past, 
 Dull, as that mortal memory's little gaze, 
 Which wanders o'er an evening's looks of praise. 
 Oft hast thou mourn'd its span> too narrow wrought 
 To hold earth's scanty lovers in a thought. 
 Ere half a week's past conquests slow it find, 
 Some tenth or twentieth ever lags behind : 
 Fast as they rise, as many fade unmiss'd ; 
 And hundreds won scarce seem to swell the list. 
 Here, brighter, ampler, the capacious power, 
 
PART VHI.] OF 1'ARADJSE. 173 
 
 Still widening 1 with the joys of every hour, 
 Sweeps, with a moment's view, the fond expanse ; 
 And not one look of love eludes the glance. 
 Think then, if earth's frail retrospects be sweet, 
 In whose dim range scarce twenty lovers meet, 
 Think, what the rapture, when a moment hears 
 The sighs and whispers of a thousand years ! 
 
 " Nay, mark'st thou not?" She heard. Could ear re- 
 sign 
 
 The tender breathings of that voice divine ? 
 Yet even that voice but partial audience found, 
 While looks of busy wonder rov'd around, 
 Rov'd, swiftly varying : ere one question spoke 
 Her wishful soul that wish another broke. 
 
 " Say, kindest Power !" she cried," while sparkles 
 
 bright 
 
 On lips and laughing eyes the flowing light, 
 O say ! what darkness, 'mid the glittering air, 
 Flings short soft twilight on that single fair ? 
 And see ! now high in rapid splendour rais'd, 
 Now sinking, as to mock ihe eye that gaz'd, 
 What dazzling piles oft gleam and vanish ! Tell 
 The potent witchery, monarch of the spell !" 
 P 2 
 
174 JOYS AND GRACES [PART VIII. 
 
 " Queen of my witcheries, thou, who in thine eyes 
 Bear'st my best magic, cease that vain surprise ! 
 If dear, on earth, to short-liv'd woman dear 
 Change even of joy, shall all be constant here, 
 No shifting lawns and domes such charm recal, 
 As freshen'd mortal bliss, ere bliss could pall, 
 When, rout and racket past, the summer's train, 
 Soft nymphs, and lordly rustics, trod the plain, 
 Till Pleasure's shorter sun new routs reveal'd, 
 And call'd the courtly peasants from the field ! 
 Wh^t change dull earthly months were slow to bring-, 
 Here flutters instant, on a moment's wing : 
 No loitering autumn needs the fair to kill ; 
 She wills a town, and towns obey her will. 
 
 " Ere, sudden, from wild blooms the palace start, 
 A swifter wish has glanc'd thro* Beauty's heart. 
 Not groves alone rejoice her ; tho', when flowers 
 Live warm with laugh or whisper, sweet the bowers. 
 Oft would the fickle smiler, kindly gay, 
 When every heart has own'd her sprightly sway, 
 Lead, with new airs sublime, and mien elate, 
 Her majesty of charms thro' halls of state, 
 Reign in some heavenly gala, and prolong 
 Fond awe, half love half worship, from the throng. 
 Then bright saloons, and domes, and columns rise* 
 
PART VIII.] OF PARADISE. 175 
 
 And mirrors spreading seem to seek her eyes ; 
 Wide glittering ceilings instant radiance cast, 
 Swift as her fancy, with its whim to last: 
 Awhile she reigns delighted, quits her throne, 
 Feels a new wish, and all the pomp is flown. 
 
 " The shade, which, 'mid the splendour flowing free, 
 A veil o'er Beauty's cheek, thou smil'dst to see, 
 Owns the same power : for here what Beauty wills 
 Not man alone, each element fulfils. 
 In gentler grace to languish sought the fair ; 
 And with mild lustre gleamed the soften'd air. 
 Well know thy changeful charms, nor suits the bloom 
 Of every light their power, nor every gloom : 
 Some call the glowing beam, their pomp to aid ; 
 Some, modest, seek the beautifying shade. 
 What tho', at morn, the toilet's careful art, 
 True to the morning project of the heart 
 O'er softest eyes the tender ringlet throw, 
 That sheds at once, and veils, a gentle wo, 
 Or from the forehead lift a sprightly wreath, 
 And ope the cheek of smiles, which laughs beneath 
 That morning look must wait, or sad or bright, 
 Till other toilets suit another light. 
 Not such the heavenly lustre. Tints of power 
 Here gleam and fade, a thousand in an hour. 
 
176 JOYS AND GRACES [PART VI1T. 
 
 With each caprice, the charmer sees arise 
 Gay lights, mild shadows, fickle as her eyes." 
 
 While the full scene one wide confusion mix'd 
 To Zephyra's keen search, that glanc'd unfix'd, 
 Divided looks in vain the virgin cast, 
 Lost in the hurrying crowd, that flitted past. 
 
 " What ! think'st thou," said the voice divine, " thy 
 
 gaze 
 
 In one wide grasp can hold that living maze ? 
 More quick to scan its raptures, let thy view, 
 Thro' all the labyrinth some Fair pursue, 
 See every changeful thought one bliss prolong, 
 That bliss, those charms, an image of the throng ! 
 
 " Lo there, who, to thy merry childhood true, 
 In romp, and laugh, and frolic ever new, 
 Soon heard, a solemn confidant more dear, 
 Thy heart's first sighs, so sweet to tell and hear ; 
 In the same winter with thy beauty's glow, 
 Burst on the world, tho* rival scarce a foe : 
 Both friends, both fair ! Even half a winter past, 
 Still seem'd that wondrous constancy to lust. 
 Spring glisten'd on her tomb. Now, see her shine ! 
 Know'st thou that gra.ce, long second but to thine ? 
 
PART VIII.] OF PARADISE. 177 
 
 On her thy glance be fix'd !"- " On Laura !" said, 
 With half a sigh of faltering grief, the Maid. 
 
 The sigh was fondly true. O'er memory came, 
 In many a crowding thought, the childish game, 
 The busy eve, that deck'd them for the ball, 
 The plans, the hopes> the joys, now mournful all : 
 Yet, if less grace immortal beauty wore, 
 That sigh had haply mourn'd the mortal more. 
 
 Fair was the form. No smile so radiant there 
 Gleam'd the wide loveliness, where all were fair ; 
 And bright the gallant throng, that round her seat 
 Breath'd sweetest sounds, where every sound was sweet. 
 Loose o'er a harp her fingers stray'd : her arm, 
 Like the soft melody's embodied charm, 
 Hung o'er the strings, light-floating, and around 
 One mingling music shed of sight and sound : 
 For, bent tho' every brow, and fix'd to hear, 
 As fix'd, as busy, seem'd the eye as ear. 
 
 "Now," said the Genius, "skill'd in looks of praise, 
 Now, mark the charm, when heavenly listeners gaze ? 
 Oft, when thy voice divine would give to air 
 The sweetest sounds Earth's heavy fog can bear, 
 How has it dull'd thee, 'mid the gathering throng, 
 
ITS JOYS AND GRACES [PAKT Vllf. 
 
 To scan the fops and fools, that hail'd thy song-, 
 No brow of beaming mind, the listless whole 
 Eyes without ears, or ears without a soul : 
 And, when thou heard'st the constant praises swell* 
 Which say, the song is o'er and all is well, 
 Chill felt'st thou on thy heart those raptures strike : 
 Which every happy squaller wins alike. 
 Now, see a judging band ! now, learn to prize 
 Such praise as glistens in celestial eyes !" 
 
 The strain flow'd fitful, such as nymphs, who boast 
 A mien of many graces, love the most, x 
 When the quick-shifting numbers, sad and gay, 
 Give each accordant look its turn of sway. 
 Careless at first her touch, as if she found, 
 Where'er her fingers stray'd, the ready sound ; 
 And a light smile, still carelessly serene, 
 Scarce stirr'd the quiet of her face and mien. 
 Then, sudden bending o'er the wires, her glance, 
 Her mien, all warm, as in poetic trance, 
 She shook the stubborn chords, and seem'd to wring 
 A fierce wild sweetness from each struggling string. 
 Now low, and lower yet, and yet more low, 
 Like echo sighing to some lover's wo, 
 Scarce seem'd a sound the murmur, all that took 
 The melting soul, a motion or a look. 
 
PART VIII.] OF PARADISE* 179 
 
 She ceas'd ; and, as she slowly gave to view 
 That glance, still softer from the notes she drew, 
 That humid orb, which gleam'd where'er 'twas cast, 
 A charm reflective of the pleasure past ; 
 And as that living mirror drank, the while, 
 The full fond radiance of each plausive smile, 
 Sweet Zephyra ! how chill to smiles like those 
 The sober simpers of thy earthly beaux ! 
 
 But see ! the harp is vanish'd like the strain. 
 The worshippers and Goddess sole remain. 
 Sole ! No, around her seemM the group to swell ; 
 And gay to many a beau laugh'd many a belle. 
 From flower-twin'd columns, stretched in light expanse 
 An arch of flowers o'er-canopied the dance ; 
 -Not as in joyless earthly balls, that pair 
 Down the long line one partner to the fair, 
 Till free she smile, releas'd; of mazes sped 
 Less weary far, than of the hand that led : 
 With swifter change, the onward-moving row 
 Brought, at each choral round, another beau ; 
 And, as the measure bade the rapid train 
 Pause, or advance, swain circling after swain, 
 Still breath'd the grateful sounds on Laura's heart, 
 How glad I come, and ! how griev'd I part ! 
 
180 JOYS AND GRACES [PART VIII. 
 
 Ceas'd now the dance. Of ail that train so bright, 
 What gleam'd on Zephyra's bewilder'd sight ?- 
 For glittering columns, met one bower her view, 
 One swain, one nymph, and Laura's charms she knew, 
 But not the charm, a heavenly pencil lends 
 To each soft motion of the hand it bends. 
 
 Yet, even on earth, when lovely limnings cease, 
 But half he views, who scans the finish'd piece. 
 More bright, than Beauty's brightest draught divine, 
 Her living form, who gave those tints to shine,* 
 The arm, now swift, now slow, as fancy wrought, 
 The half-bent neck, the pausing look of thought, 
 Light movements, that, in thousand graces thrown, 
 Even while they pictur'd charms, reveal'd her own, 
 When gentle youths behold her, as she prints 
 With fairy touch some petal's watery tints, 
 Or, dashing, sweeping, flings, with careless toil, 
 Hills, rivers, meads, a glittering world of oil, 
 O dull, who think, no prouder thoughts direct, 
 Than where, the tree should bend, or rock project ? 
 With studious skill, she bids each motion trace 
 Some ever-new diversity of grace ; 
 And, with imperial smile which all obey, 
 Wields the light pencil, sceptre of her sway. 
 
PART VIII.] OF PARADISE. 181 
 
 So shines the mortal belle, so, spotless reigns, 
 Mid oils and ochres, and a thousand stains, 
 As if, in native loveliness secure, 
 No earthly soil could touch a form so pure. 
 But not in Paradise gross hues expand, 
 Nor heavy pallet loads the weary hand. 
 Soft o'er one palm a little rainbow stream'd ; 
 Of whitest rays, as soft, a pencil beam'd, 
 Which Laura graceful held, and dipt with skill 
 In the quick colours, flashing at her will, 
 Bent low, with busy arm, as if she knew 
 No presence, but the fancied form she drew,-- 
 Yet sometimes deign'd a gentle look to raise 
 To eyes, that watch'd with more than critic praise, 
 
 *Twas Beauty's form, fair imag'd, such, as caught 
 In short sweet vision, haunts the poet's thought : 
 Yet not enough the critic deem'd divine ; 
 He snatch'd the pencil, to reform the line, 
 Gave other features ;-r-and, those features shewn, 
 How smiPd the aftist, as she knew her own ! 
 
 She smil'd; but Zephyra no smile partook. 
 *' What ! must I view," she cried, " each rapturous lopfe 
 See crowds of flatterers, all their follies hear,--* 
 Q 
 
182 JOYS AND GRACES [PART VIII. 
 
 And not one bosom own, that / am hear ! 
 
 Bear I the penance ?*' As she spoke, she press'd 
 
 In nicer fold the silk that bound her breast, 
 
 Then bade a glance, which Earth might worship, glow 
 
 Full on the youth : but ah ! still blind the beau. 
 
 Wide in theatric pomp the bower had swelPd ; 
 The beau scarce seen amid the crowd it held. 
 Still Laura graceful shone ; tho' she, whose eye 
 Once lov'd her near, now mark'd her with a sigh. 
 Light charms had yielded to a calmer power ; 
 And Reason, sober Reason, rul'd the hour : 
 "While every mien a studious air refin'd 
 Attnn'd to grave coquetries of the mind. 
 Thro* the full throng no spreading titter broke : 
 Belies spoke, Beaux heard, yet meekly heard and spoke. 
 Each look was wisdom ; as sage nymphs debate 
 With sager youths, in drawing-rooms of state. 
 
 For as, on earth, love-gathering Beauty brings 
 Increase of power from lore of dullest things, 
 With smiles and systems, charms alike in all, 
 The morning lecture as the evening ball; 
 There, wise in chemic wonders, better known 
 The ring and belts of Saturn than her own, 
 
PART VIII.] OF PARADISE. 183 
 
 With student beaux a lovely student sits, 
 Confounds gay fops, and half convinces wits, 
 Proud her soft war of pedantries to wage, 
 And flirt at once with Science and the sage : 
 So, even in Paradise, to thought serene 
 Oft calms the sprightly nymph her laughing mien, 
 Inquires, pronounces, doubts, witlf sapient air, 
 Smiles, and confutes, philosopher, and fair ! 
 
 Yet not as earth's fair seers, who, deeply read, 
 View nature, like their fan, before them spread, 
 In one wide glance o'er all its marvels stray, 
 From central caverns to the milky way, 
 As quick to solve, with technic terms profound, 
 Tho' sometimes wrong in place, still sage in sound, 
 More lively themes pursues the heavenly belle, 
 A sage, where Love a fellow-sage might dwell : 
 Her sole geometry, what curve demand 
 The step, the nod, the graceful-waving hand, 
 Sole logic, where some smile has had its part, 
 And all her physics physics of the heart. 
 
 Such now the themes, which critic beaux engaged ; 
 While belle with belie the rival question wag'd, 
 Wise but to charm the wise, his praise their claim, 
 But the fond umpire's self their nobler aim. 
 
184 JOYS AND GRACES [PART Vlfl. 
 
 Fir'd by that double meed of love's applause, 
 They sought of wondrous thing's each wondrous cause ; 
 Whence flows the sudden gloom, that dims, at sight 
 Of some new swain, whole circles of the bright, 
 Tho* not with warmer smile that lover woo, 
 Than the last gazers, when their smile was new ; 
 Why a kind whisper, faintest sound to hear, 
 Yet vibrates longest on the listening ear; 
 Why hands, that scarcely own'd a ruder grasp, 
 Thrill, by soft fingers prest with softest clasp ; 
 When lives and smiles the mirror's full expanse, 
 As passing bevies cast a sidelong glance, 
 What strange attraction, in the image thrown, 
 To every gazer most endears her own ; 
 What eloquence the powerful speech supplies, 
 When lips are mute, and eyes are fix'd on eyes: 
 Such mystic themes the gentle wranglers sped, 
 Doubtful, and dark. But doubt and darkness fled ; 
 Nought left for wonder, when the strife was o'er, 
 But the sweet marvel of their charms and lore. 
 
 The strife had ceas'd ; and sole remained to crown 
 The victress sage, the plaudit of renown. 
 No single shout a single fair confess'd, 
 Which $ joy to one, were grief to all the rest ; 
 
PART VIII.] OF PARADISE. 185 
 
 With happier art, the name she felt excel 
 
 By every beau was breath'd to every belle. 
 
 Soft was it whisper' d : but, so sweet the fame, 
 
 The gathering- glory seem'd aloud acclaim. 
 
 Where were those eyes then lingering, that of mould 
 
 Invisible to all, could all behold ? 
 
 Swift, as on earth to mark a rival fair, 
 
 On Laura turn'd, they paus'd, scarce wandering there*' 
 
 Youth after yoitth with whisper whisper seal'd ; 
 
 And still new smiles the well-heard praise reveal'd ; 
 
 And still new crowds came gratulant. The throng 
 
 Vex'd Zephyra, impatient, glanc'd along, 
 
 More vex'd, more angry, saw, tho 5 crowds withdrew, 
 
 The endless line still lengthen to her view, 
 
 Then turn'd, once more the hated smile to trace ; 
 
 A prouder joy seem'd kindling on the face ; 
 
 And as she longer watch'd, on her, the while, 
 
 Half seem'd in mockery fix'd that haughty smile* 
 
 Fix'd, with that look, which beau-girt virgins throw 
 
 Modest and mild, on belles without a beau. 
 
 'Twas doubt at first, scarce credulous ; but grief, 
 
 Shame, wonder, wrath, soon made the doubt belief. 
 
 " What ! shall she know me then," she cried," exult, 
 Proud of her bliss, and smile but to insult ! 
 Q 2 
 
186 JOYS AND GRACES [PART VIII. 
 
 And shall /then an idle gazer stand, 
 
 As if to number all her simpering band ! 
 
 No ! let dull rivals sum each flirt's amount ! 
 
 Minebe the triumphs, which 1 deign to count ! 
 
 Yes ! By this cestus, whose ethereal fold 
 
 Shall bear me back, to eyes that can behold, 
 
 I too have charms ; andj while on earth are given 
 
 Those charms who feel, be earth my mortal heaven! 
 
 Then, when these bowers again I hail, and free 
 
 As this pure radiance, beam on all I see, 
 
 These bowers shall know me, and who haughtiest shine 
 
 Shall fade, and sicken, at one smile of mine ! J> 
 
 Half sad half ireful, from the throng she tunrd ;- 
 Yet, tho* within contending passions burn'u, 
 Not, even in tumult of those mix'd alarms, 
 Forgetful of her gratitude and charms, 
 Mild to the Genius, as if loth she went, 
 A parting look of loveliest thanks she sent. 
 He smil'd, consenting, where the cavern lay 
 Led her quick step, and cheer'd the winding 1 way: 
 Then, as she trod with earthly foot once more 
 The rock, which first the wondering stranger bore, 
 Half-shrinking- from the flight, his soft farewcl, 
 More looks than sounds, in parting- blessings fell. 
 
PART VIII J OF PARADISE. 
 
 "Pursue thy wish," he cried, "nor fear to roam ! 
 Safe, as my care, that wish shall wing thee home. 
 Go, and till Fate, that doom'd thy mortal scene, 
 Shall.give to Paradise its loveliest queer, 
 Let smiles of destin'd fondness round thee vie, 
 Which Fate may count, but Fate alone and I ! 
 Go, spread with charms my empire ! At thy glance, 
 Let Joy and Conquest wake the yawning dance ! 
 Or thro' dull Routs, like vision'd Rapture glide, 
 Sighs in thy train, fond whispers at thy side ! 
 Yet O ! when most thy triumphs spread my power, 
 And Earth's best transports fill the glowing hour, 
 Forget not him who proud that joy shall see. 
 Think sometimes of thy heaven, and oft of me !" 
 
 She heard, and smil'd with softest glance, then sped 
 The potent wish, and Worlds behind her fled. 
 
 Now, on that ottoman, where feebly shines 
 The glimmering flame, what gentle fair reclines ? - 
 J Tis she : and heaven's sweet moments can unite 
 Of sublunary hours such full delight, 
 Not many an earthly minute's track is o'er, 
 Since that fair form the same soft cushion bore, 
 Unspent, the tapers gleam ; and in the hall, 
 
188 JOYS AND GRACES [PAKT VIII. 
 
 Gay Susan, summon'd by the tinkling call, 
 While sad to Frank she flies the halt- won trick, 
 Slow rising-, wonders at a call so quick. 
 
 But thou) best charm restor'd Iwhat thoughts pos- 
 
 sess'd 
 
 With memory's wild confusion all thy breast ! 
 In vain, as busy with her tongue as hand, 
 New flattering themes the sage unrober plann'd : 
 Nor feather's praise, nor mantle's graceful flow, 
 Nor eyes that deck'd them, seem'd the Fair to know. 
 The filmy zone, that still her bosom bound, 
 Cautious, with gentlest touch, herself unwound, 
 Then bade the treasure place, with safest things, 
 In the rich coffer of her gems and rings. 
 Quick were the hands that minister'd; but nought, 
 Tho* stretch'd with instant speed, those fingers caught. 
 Much marvell'd Susan : with expectant haste 
 Her downward eye the mazy carpet trac'd. 
 The fair, with sadder glance, had mark'd it rise, 
 And knew the lightness, that must reach the skies. 
 
 Close-curtain'd to repose, when o'er her frame, 
 Long restless tost, a feverish slumber came, 
 Still in wild dreams her spirit rov'd unfix'd,. 
 Where worlds with worlds in rude disorder mix'd. 
 
FART VIII.] OF PARADISE. 189 
 
 Now thro' mid air the rapid cestus bore ; 
 Now Earth seem'd Pai'udise> then Earth once more, 
 Herself a thousand shapes, while forms as wild 
 Hung round, and clamour'd, as she laugh'd or smil*d. 
 
 Then, soft, and softer, slumber fell, and stole 
 A calmer lovelier vision on her soul, 
 So true to li fe,if earth be v:4d it Heam 
 Her waking heart hi 1 realised the dream. 
 Bright throngs were met, md near her, tam'd in pride, 
 A pen-ten ,,u '. sh-v-, the Colonel sigh'd. 
 'Twns \< .y,_.vi.i ,/, wiih wrinkled cheek of gloom, 
 Morocc-" 5 iv>sk /A ivoy cross'd the room. 
 \V1 at tr <nspo 'htn.to win, whom seventy wives 
 O ! >v:,'.i lonl <>! -11 flieir fondness, and their lives! 
 Dtii i tlie W'S ! 5 ! voice, *hat once, with truant tone, 
 Seem'd, as sf Lome's whole faithless sex had flown : 
 Laughs, whispers, smiles, how vain ! No charm appearM, 
 But that green turban, and that hoary beard. 
 
 Such Zephyra's mild vision, till at last 
 Sleep o'er her frame a dreamless quiet cast, 
 Gave the warm eye in softer dew to swim, 
 Soo'<>M the quick pulse, that throbb'd thro' every limb, 
 And lenient riurs'd for renovated sway, 
 The charms and triumphs of the coming day. 
 
THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES. 
 
 PART IX. 
 
 THE PRAISE OF COQUETRY. 
 
 ANALYSIS. 
 
 Address to the future inhabitants of the Paradise,- not 
 to disdain the triumphs of mortal coquetry, in their 
 contemplation of the joys that await them. Transi- 
 tion to the praise of the Power, whose empire they are 
 to spread on earth. His bounty in repairing the fru- 
 gality of Nature, in her distribution of the sexes, in- 
 fluence in civilising- the world, and in still continu- 
 ing to soothe the angry passions of the civilised. 
 The desire of pleasing considered in its important re- 
 lations to labour and commercial intercourse. Pic- 
 ture of the weakness and misery, which would be pro- 
 duced in a State, by the extinction of this one passion. 
 Hence the public glory of coquetry, as the source of 
 the wealth and power of nations, all the functions 
 of whose government, depending on that financial 
 prosperity which flows from her influence, may be 
 considered as indirectly exercised by Beauty herself. 
 Conclusion. Parting prayer to be remembered. 
 
THE 
 
 PRAISE OF COQUETRY. 
 
 CLOS'D is the strain. To Beauty's smile supreme 
 Dear be the verse, as to her bard the theme ! 
 What bowers, when galas on her vision fade, 
 Receive her charms immortal to their shade, 
 Light wishes, sweet to form as to fulfil, 
 And pleasures changeful as her varying will, 
 My verse has sung, O ye whom Kings obey, 
 O charm, O glory, of that earth ye sway ! 
 Tho' my fond numbers, like their poet true, 
 To those lov'd eyes have oped a brighter view^ 
 Scorn not, impatient for your distant sphere, 
 The humble world ye grace and gladden here. 
 II 
 
194 THE PJRAISE [PART ix. 
 
 What tho' ye pass, like zephyrs, fleet as soft, 
 That breathe a freshening joy, then glide aloft, 
 Even in life's little gleam/tis sweet to find, 
 How many hearts one laughing hour can bind, 
 Were man's stern bosom stone, ye well might haste, 
 Silent and heedless, thro* the dreary waste, 
 But, since thro' glowing crowds your journey lies> 
 And some bright youths have souls, and all have eyes, 
 Still smile, still vanquish ! As ye move along, 
 Let every gaze be worship from the throng ! 
 Since Paradise? to bound your path, is given, 
 'Tis meet, that glory mark the track to heaven. 
 
 So when the nymph, whom eager viols call, 
 Like Fame's shrill voice, to lead the sprightly ball, 
 With heart elate, but air of modest grace, 
 Half guides, half follows, to her honour'd place, 
 Tho' her quick soul, in joy's inspiring trance, 
 Already views the glories of the dance, 
 Not lost to present triumphs, still she arms 
 Each moment's smile, with all a moment's charms. 
 Even when she quits the couch, and, rising slow, 
 Bends to the gallant whisper of her beau, 
 Views the gay tumult, calm, and as she glides, 
 The fluttering troop of hastening pairs divides, 
 
PART IX.] OF COQUETRY. 195 
 
 Not heedless are her glances taught to stray j 
 In march to reign, she conquers by the way : 
 Light steps, and choral triumphs, half-foreseen, 
 Phy round her heart, and brighten ail her mien. 
 
 And ye, to happier realms of tender mirth 
 "Who dance in gladness thro* this festive Earth ! 
 With such sweet influence, let the joys foreknown, 
 But warm each look, and soften every tone I 
 Even now, in l^indling visions of delight, 
 From endless pleasures catch a beam more bright, 
 The smiles of Paradise to mortals deign, 
 And grateful spread his sway, by whom ye reign ! 
 
 O blest Coquetry ! while thy sportful Power 
 Leads the fond triumphs of the hall or bower, 
 While one brief smile shall half a rout deceive, 
 And village youths,-oft cheated, still believe, 
 Be frequent altars thine, and, as they Maze, 
 Due hymns let Beauty's choral priesthood raise ! 
 Oft as another hecatomb shall fall, 
 A hundred loiterers, victims of the ball, 
 Then, duteous, let the dame or virgin bring, 
 Her votive offering for the conquer'd ring, 
 With fragrant essences thy shrine bedew, 
 
196 THE PRAISE [PAKT IX. 
 
 And love's warm tribute on the altar strew, 
 With hundred billets load the pile, and keep 
 A flaming- madrigal, to fire the heap ! 
 
 Joy of thy busy world, who leav'st no wo, 
 No languor, but sweet languors meant for show ! 
 Without thee, what were man, condenmM to prize 
 The scanty sunshine of a pair of eyes ! 
 Her numberM sexes Nature sparing dealt, 
 One youth to worship, and one maid to melt ; 
 Vain avarice of charms ! for O ! how soon, 
 Thy bounty turn'd to wealth the niggard boon ; 
 Nor ask'd a new creation's bright display, 
 By simple means magnificent of sway ! 
 Enough earth's slumbering loveliness ; thy art 
 But gave one passion to the waken'd heart. 
 Then all was life. As if some bounteous Power 
 Had call'd a thousand nymphs from every bower, 
 While each o'er throngs diffus'd her soft command, 
 Each lavish charmer was herself a band : 
 Thro* love-lull'd bosoms, thrill'd a gayer tone ; 
 And Nature laugh'd with beauties not her own. 
 
 Where youths and virgins met, and lingering stood, 
 Or sadly sat, or sadiier paced the wood, 
 
PAKT IX.] OF COQUETRY. 197 
 
 With voice, strange dialogue of sighs that kept, 
 And eyes that, languid, seem'd as if they slept, 
 There, when again the hamlet's joyous day 
 Pour'd its bright concourse to the festal May, 
 What gladdening change ! With rapturd-spreading wile; 
 Glance laugh' d to glance, and smile was caught by smile ; 
 With jest and revelry soft whispers strove, 
 And vows and frolics echoed thro' the grove. 
 
 Soother of frowns ! O friend of every grace, 
 Of every charm, which Virtue loves to trace 1 
 The courteous look, the winning air divine, 
 How much of all that softens life, is thine ! 
 Thee savage eyes with beam less scowling own, 
 And rugged voices find a blander tone 
 First sweet progressive softness ! Who shall scan 
 What widening blessings from that change began? 
 Perhaps each glory of the moral sphere, 
 Peace, Order, Truth, then oped their bright career. 
 The social law, that calm protection flings, 
 And shelters peasants, as it shelters kings, 
 The cultur'd wild, brood-spreading- to the sun, 
 The wealth, which free and fearless hands have won ; 
 Arts' sprung from wealth, that deck the fostering power, 
 As, borne on stems and foliage, smiles the flower, 
 R 2 
 
198 THE PRAISE [PAST IX. 
 
 These gentle blessings if some kindred ray 
 Diffus'd, what influence gentle as thy sway I 
 
 The forest's human howlers, who for food 
 Rush on some feebler monster of the wood, 
 In whose dread homes, which never fondness decks. 
 No kind ambition breathes from sex to sex, 
 But love, that thinks not mutual bliss to share, 
 Is force or plunder, like the prey they tear, 
 Hords, dark and joyless, whom no art has cheer'd, 
 'Mid carnage born, to fiercer carnage rear'd, 
 Touch'd by thy flame, with softening ardour glow; 
 A second sunshine melts the gloom below ; 
 New beauties seen awake a new desire ; 
 The hope, the charm, of pleasing spread the fire : 
 Rude graces call each brightening power to aid; 
 And wild coquetries civilise the shade. 
 
 Even now, when Earth is gay, and every Art 
 Has beam'd a mellowing radiance on the heart, 
 Thy pleasures still life's little wraths attune ; 
 And Virtue wins, and smiles to win, the boon. 
 When witching lips no bland enchantments speak, 
 And more than love's faint blushes fire the cheek, 
 Thy moral power the gather'd front disarms, . 
 
FART IX.] OF COQUETRY. 199 
 
 And spreads a sweet serenity of charms ; 
 
 Kind sunny beamings play, where shades had hung, 
 
 And laughs, and whispers, float around the tongue. 
 
 How ofihas Beauty for no bloom, nor wit, 
 Can save the loveliest from her pout or fit 
 From her vex'd brow the Cyprian softness driven, 
 For sterner graces of the Queen of Heaven! 
 Her nymphs, presageful, view : each trembling ear 
 Waits what nor gods, nor men, delight to hear. 
 It bursts, Her lord, in distant chamber gay, 
 Knows the dread sound, and trembles for the day, 
 Resumes the leaf of news, and scans once more 
 The twice-read paragraph, well scann'd before. 
 Then, while applauding hands glad Furies beat, 
 As the last lovely softness quits its seat, 
 What art the gloomy wrinkle shall beguile, 
 And back triumphant bring the banish'd smile ? 
 Quote holy precepts from the moral page ! 
 Upbraided wrath but glows with double rage. 
 Point what the mirror shews, severely true ! 
 What are the looks, which only husbands view ? 
 Thine is the suasive whisper, thine to balm 
 The inward sting, the outward tempest calm. 
 In that worst tumult, when, all mingling high, 
 
200 THE PRAISE [PART ix. 
 
 Even servile tongues assert the sharp reply, 
 When screams the cag'd macaw, and Snap more^bold 
 Yelps, and the frighten'd echoes scream and scold, 
 Let but a herald voice below proclaim 
 Oflast night's ball some gallant flutterer's name, 
 All wrath is hush'd. Again the mirror fair 
 Smiles with the image which it loves to bear: 
 The baleful light, that shot its flames askance, 
 But leaves more lucid spirit in her glance. 
 Now to the fair saloon with peaceful tread 
 She glides, and gathers every softness fled ; 
 And, as the beau her courteous accents greet, 
 What mien so gentle, and what tones so sweet ! 
 Her lord, when dinner joins the lonely two, 
 Sees gay with smiles the brow he fear'd to view, 
 Thinks some new lustre o'er her form is cast, 
 And half forgets, that honeymoons are past. 
 So, at thy charm divine, all tempests cease, 
 Home shines with joy, and evenings set in peace. 
 
 Not the light Graces spread thy power alone ; 
 Rough Labour bears his tribute to thy throne, 
 Wields all his thousand hands, and smiles to see 
 Whole Nature vanquished, but a gift to thee : 
 From elemental war,* be gathers bright 
 
JPART IX.] OF COQUETRY. 201 
 
 The gentle armour of a kinder fight, 
 The spoil profuse around thy champions pours, 
 And gives the glittering toilet all its stores, 
 Pa wandering curls a guardian pin demand, 
 Or the loose mantle ask a clasping band ? 
 He bids the far-cleft rocks their gems display.- 
 They knowtyis mighty footstep, and obey. 
 Now o'er his path the floods exulting swell ; 
 From Ocean's bed he tears the pearly shell. 
 In vain the airy surge, to mock his quest, 
 Lifts the strong pinion from its mountain nest; 
 Down sinks the fluttering soarer of the storm, 
 And the light plumage decks a fairer form. 
 Obsequious flames around their victor glow : 
 He gives the future bracelet's gold to flow, 
 Bids melting colours mingle, and supplies 
 The robe and riband with their changeful dies. 
 With Nature's varied splendour shines the Fair ; 
 And every element has treasures there. 
 
 Prompt at thy voice, all-daring Commerce flings 
 To tempest-brooding gales his fearless wings, 
 Asks every shore, what vesture's soft deceit 
 Makes grace more winning, and even smiles more sweet, 
 Spreads the new pomp to Beauty's eager arms, 
 
202 THE PRAISE [PART ix. 
 
 The conscious mirror brightening with her charms ; 
 From climes, where Zephyr shuns the blazing* seas, 
 And Toil scarce freshens in the sultry breeze, 
 Wafts fairy fans of sandal's od'rous bloom, 
 Or downy tissues of Cachmiria's loom ; 
 Now, half benumb'd, 'mid fogs that hide the day, 
 And warring ice-rocks, wandering for their prey, 
 On shores were shivering Summer treads with haste, 
 While Winter howling re-demands his waste, 
 Even there he finds, tho' savage terrors lower 
 Some charm for Beauty's universal power, 
 When the bright Fair shall o'er her bosom throw 
 The sable's lustrous shade, or ermine's snowv 
 
 Where the moor'd vessel waits the gathered bale, 
 Or far at ocean struggles with the gale, 
 Tho' mortal orbs, ungifted, nought can mark 
 But the coarse seaman, sturdy as his bark, 
 By purer eyes a gentler crew are seen, 
 Light winged flutterers, busy for their Queen. 
 With solemn air, like merchants o'er their ink, 
 Or statesmen, when they think, or seem to think, 
 Some, gravely anxious, watch the growing freight, 
 Peep thro' each fold, and scan its brilliant fate, 
 What charms to clasp shall be the tissue's doom, 
 
FART IX.] OF COQ,UET11Y. 20S 
 
 What laughing brow shall nod beneath the plume. 
 
 It sounds, the tumult of the parting- cry. 
 
 What hurrying pinions to the cable fly, 
 
 And, when the deep-fix'd anchor scarce is stirr'd, 
 
 Strain all their little aid, and pant unheard ! 
 
 Now while, as if it sought no wind to urge, 
 
 Speeds o'er the deej) the victor of the surge, 
 
 On every shroud some busy hoverer glides, 
 
 Or, idly wanton, on the streamer rides, 
 
 Or, couch'd within the sail, with folded wing, 
 
 Points the worn shaft, or twangs the slackened string, 
 
 One, o'er the compass bending prone, surveys 
 
 The faithful steel, with meditative gaze, 
 
 Culls a light arrow, for the needle's part,* 
 
 And on his bowstring pois'd supports the dart 
 
 The shifting bow the shifting shaft pursues; 
 
 He views, and, angry, wonders as he views. 
 
 Thus still, with ceaseless charm, what first inspir'd 
 Industrious wishes,' prompts the zeal itfir'd. 
 Tho* rude the desert clime, to hands that toil 
 Some bounty Mature deigns, on every soil ; 
 Not life alone, she deigns, that life to grace, 
 Some decorative gifts to every race : 
 The varied gifts to varied labours call j 
 
THE PRAISE [PART i 
 
 And commerce spreads the local wealth to all. 
 Hence nations flourish. To thy sway they owe 
 What binds the social weal, and daunts the foe. 
 Some brighter charm, the gazer's soul to seize, 
 All strive to win for all aspire to please. 
 From little vanities what treasures swell! 
 Unthinking- patriots every fop and belle ; 
 And not a heart is won, or conquest plann'd, 
 But gleams a brighter splendour o'er the land. 
 
 Hence, when contending states, thro' mix'd alarms, 
 Vie glorious, in the strife of arts and arms, 
 To curb the proudest in the generous course, 
 Asks not a mighty victor's whelming force ; 
 Enough, if there one passion's tender pride 
 Lose the sure charm, it sheds on all beside. 
 
 Let starch grown swains the circle's praise forego, 
 Nor deem it triumph, to be rank'd a beau ; 
 No female heart with gay ambition swell, 
 Proud among belles to shine the brightest belle ; 
 Then, where a glittering store the counter press'd, 
 And virgins titter'd to some fopling's jest, 
 No more shall lovely bands, successive seen, 
 Match shade with shade, and talk and laugh between, 
 
PART IX.] (HP COQUETRY. 205 
 
 But o'er unopening silks sad gloom be spread, 
 
 And all be dull, as Beauty's self were dead. 
 
 Each Art, that toil'd to swell the radiant store, 
 
 Shall ply its busy ministry no more. 
 
 In the far village, where, by winter's blaze, 
 
 The matron tunvd her wheel of other days, 
 
 Or, at her cottage door, when evening breath'd 
 
 Sweet fragrance, from the shrubs her hand had wreath'cl, 
 
 And Summer, smiling round in freshness, cast 
 
 A half-oblivious joy, like rapture past, 
 
 Gaz'd, as she drew her thread, with tender pride, 
 
 On the mild form, that caroll'd by her side, 
 
 No more that wheel its murmur shall prolong, 
 
 Which humm'd, and circled, to the maiden's song. 
 
 The shuttle, that with never-weary clack 
 
 Its journeys counted, shall forget its track : 
 
 The seaman's languid eye, each listless day, 
 
 Shall mark his mouldering vessel's swift decay: 
 
 Sad with their country's griefs, the courtly tribe 
 
 Shall mourn a treasury which cannot bribe ; 
 
 Place, pension, power, shall fly on paper wings, 
 
 And nations tremble, to the thrones of kings. 
 
 Yes ! all is Beauty's rule. The gentle flame, 
 That lights with joy the lover's kindling frame, 
 S 
 
 I 
 
206 THE PRAISE [PART ix* 
 
 Suns into wealth and power a realm's expanse, 
 
 And blesses empires, as it charms the dance. 
 
 What tho' denied her timid hand, to wield 
 
 Of combat, or of law, the sacred shield, 
 
 From arts, that flourish in her genial reign, 
 
 Those glories flow, which arms and laws sustain. 
 
 See, as she laughs, rich salaries unfold, 
 
 And statesmen think, and warriors march, for gold > 
 
 Then trace the public rill, that bears around 
 
 The generous meed, to names of haughtiest sound ; 
 
 She pours the primal wealth : and charms, which pay. 
 
 The haughty ruler, well may bo;;st the sway. 
 
 The bearded sage, whate'er his function's style, 
 
 Is but the proxy of her sovereign smile. 
 
 That smile, thro* golden transmutations drawn, 
 
 Frowns on the bench, or growls in holy lawn, 
 
 Harangues in councils, or with courtly grace 
 
 Convinces pension'd patriots into place. 
 
 The plumy-crested chief, in battle's hour, 
 
 Marks, by his feather, whence his sword has power ; 
 
 And the mild glance, to which her lowers yield, 
 
 Makes navies fly, and armies quit the field. 
 
PART IX.] OF COQUETRY. 207 
 
 The theme is clos'd : yet, dreading to retire, 
 My hand, still lingering, wanders oe'r the lyre : 
 Well may the conscious bard, sweet listeners, fear 
 To cease the happy strain, that binds you near, 
 O ! by those warm attentive smiles, that hung 
 In fond approval, as the tale was sung ; 
 By dearer softness of those grateful eyes, 
 In sadness gazing, as the murmur dies I 
 To memory when afar this strain shall seem 
 Like doubtful music of some broken dream, 
 When even my lyre, half-mouldering in decay, 
 Frail, like the feeble hand that pour'd the lay, 
 No more to Beauty's praise its tribute flings," 
 O! be not he forgot, who swept its strings ! 
 
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