LXXV. The mellow autumn came, and with it came Full grows his bag, and wonderful his feats. LXXVI. in the grape sunny An English autumn, though it hath no vines, LXXVII. Then, if she hath not that serene decline (1) ["Gray's omitted stanza 'Here scatter'd oft, the earliest of the year, By hands unseen, are showers of violets found; And little footsteps lightly print the ground.' is as fine as any in the Elegy. I wonder that he could have the heart to omit it."-B. Diary, Feb. 1821.] Without doors, too, she may compete in mellow, LXXVIII. And for the effeminate villeggiatura — [chase, Rife with more horns than hounds-she hath the So animated that it might allure a Saint from his beads to join the jocund race; Even Nimrod's self might leave the plains of Dura, (1) And wear the Melton jacket (2) for a space: If she hath no wild boars, she hath a tame Preserve of bores, who ought to be made game. LXXIX. The noble guests, assembled at the Abbey, Also the honourable Mrs. Sleep, Who look'd a white lamb, yet was a black sheep: LXXX. With other Countesses of Blank-but rank; All purged and pious from their native clouds; (1) In Assyria. (2) [For a graphic account of Melton Mowbray, the head-quarters of the English chase, see Quarterly Review, vol. xlvii. p. 216.] Or paper turn'd to money by the Bank: No matter how or why, the passport shrouds The "passée" and the past; for good society Is no less famed for tolerance than piety,— LXXXI. That is, up to a certain point; which point On which it hinges in a higher station; Thee, witch!" (1) or each Medea has her Jason; Or (to the point with Horace and with Pulci) "Omne tulit punctum, quæ miscuit utile dulci.” LXXXII. I can't exactly trace their rule of right, Her way back to the world by dint of plottery, And shine the very Siria (2) of the spheres, Escaping with a few slight, scarless sneers. LXXXIII. I have seen more than I'll say:-but we will see How our villeggiatura will get on. The party might consist of thirty-three Of highest caste-the Brahmins of the ton. (1) [" Aroint thee, witch! the rump-fed ronyon cries."- Macbeth.] (2) Siria, i. e. bitch-star. I have named a few, not foremost in degree, LXXXIV. There was Parolles, too, the legal bully, And senate: when invited elsewhere, truly, newly Come out and glimmer'd as a six weeks' star There was Lord Pyrrho, too, the great freethinker; And Sir John Pottledeep, the mighty drinker. LXXXV. There was the Duke of Dash, who was a-duke, 66 Ay, every inch a" duke; there were twelve peers Like Charlemagne's-and all such peers in look And intellect, that neither eyes nor ears For commoners had ever them mistook. There were the six Miss Rawbolds- pretty dears! All song and sentiment; whose hearts were set Less on a convent than a coronet. LXXXVI. There were four Honourable Misters, whose Honour was more before their names than after; There was the preux Chevalier de la Ruse, [here, Whom France and Fortune lately deign'd to waft Whose chiefly harmless talent was to amuse; But the clubs found it rather serious laughter, Because—such was his magic power to pleaseThe dice seem'd charm'd, too, with his repartees. LXXXVII. There was Dick Dubious, the metaphysician, Sir Henry Silvercup, the great race-winner. Good at all things, but better at a bet. LXXXVIII. There was Jack Jargon, the gigantic guardsman; In his grave office so completely skill'd, LXXXIX. Good company's a chess-board-there are kings, Queens, bishops, knights, rooks, pawns; the world's a game; Save that the puppets pull at their own strings, Methinks gay Punch hath something of the same. (1) [George Hardinge, Esq., M.P., one of the Welsh judges, died in 1816. His works were collected, in 1818, by Mr. Nichols.] |