can't you see they are valtzing," or waltzing (I forget which); and then up she got, and her mother and sister, and away they went, and roundabouted it till supper-time. Now that I know what it is, I like it of all things, and so does Mrs. H. (though I have broken my shins, and four times overturned Mrs. Hornem's maid in practising the preliminary steps in a morning). Indeed, so much do I like it, that having a turn for rhyme, tastily displayed in some election ballads, and songs in honour of all the victories (but till lately I have had little practice in that way), I sat down, and with the aid of W. F., Esq., and a few hints from Dr. B. (whose recitations I attend, and am monstrous fond of Master B.'s manner of delivering his father's late successful D. L. address), I composed the following hymn, wherewithal to make my sentiments known to the public, whom, nevertheless, I heartily despise, as well as the critics.
I am, Sir, yours, etc., etc.,
HORACE HORNEM.
MUSE of the many-twinkling feet! 5 whose charms
Are now extended up from legs to arms;
TERPSICHORE!-too long misdeem'd a maid—
Reproachful term-bestow'd but to upbraid-
Henceforth in all the bronze of brightness shine,
The least a vestal of the virgin Nine.
Far be from thee and thine the name of prude;
Mock'd, yet triumphant; sneer'd at, unsubdued,
Thy legs must move to conquer as they fly,
If but thy coats are reasonably high;
Thy breast-if bare enough-requires no shield;
Dance forth-sans armour thou shalt take the field,
And own-impregnable to most assaults,
Thy not too lawfully begotten "Waltz."
Hail, nimble nymph! to whom the young hussar, The whisker'd votary of waltz and warHis night devotes, despite of spur and boots, A sight unmatch'd since Orpheus and his brutes: Hail, spirit-stirring Waltz!-beneath whose banners A modern hero fought for modish manners; On Hounslow's heath to rival Wellesley's 4 fame, Cock'd-fired-and miss'd his man-but gain'd his aim. Hail, moving muse! to whom the fair one's breast
Gives all it can, and bids us take the rest.
Oh! for the flow of Busby, or of Fitz,
The latter's loyalty, the former's wits,
To" energise the object I pursue,"
And give both Belial and his dance their due!
Imperial Waltz! imported from the Rhine
(Famed for the growth of pedigrees and wine),
Long be thine import from all duty free,
And hock itself be less esteem'd than thee;
In some few qualities alike—for hock
Improves our cellar-thou our living stock.
The head to hock belongs—thy subtler art
Intoxicates alone the heedless heart:
Through the full veins thy gentler poison swims,
And wakes to wantonness the willing limbs.
Oh, Germany! how much to thee we owe,
As heaven-born Pitt can testify below,
Ere cursed confederation made thee France's,
And only left us thy dd debts and dances;
Of subsidies and Hanover bereft,
We bless thee still-for George the third is left!
Of kings the best-and last, not least in worth,
For graciously begetting George the Fourth.
To Germany, and highnesses serene,
Who owe us millions-don't we owe the queen?
To Germany what owe we not besides?
So oft bestowing Brunswickers and brides ;
Who paid for vulgar, with her royal blood,
Drawn from the stem of each Teutonic stud:
Who sent us-so be pardon'd all her faults-
A dozen dukes-some kings-a queen-and Waltz.
But peace to her her emperor and diet,
Though now transferr'd to Bonaparte's
"fiat;"
Back to my theme-O Muse of motion! say,
How first to Albion found thy Waltz her
Borne on the breath of hyperborean gales,
From Hamburg's port (while Hamburg yet had mails)
Ere yet unlucky fame-compell'd to creep
To snowy Gottenburg-was chill'd to sleep:
Or, starting from her slumbers, deign'd arise,
Heligoland! to stock thy mart with lies;
While unburnt Moscow 5 yet had news to send,
Nor owed her fiery exit to a friend,
She came-Waltz came-and with her certain sets
Of true dispatches, and as true gazettes :
Then flamed of Austerlitz the blest dispatch
Which Moniteur nor Morning Post can match;
And—almost crush'd beneath the glorious news—
Ten plays, and forty tales of Kotzebue's ;
One envoy's letters, six composers' airs,
And loads from Frankfort and from Leipsic fairs;
Meiner's four volumes upon womankind,
Like Lapland witches to ensure a wind;
Brunck's heaviest tome for ballast, and to back it,
Of Heyné, such as should not sink the packet.
Fraught with this cargo-and her fairest freight,
Delightful Waltz, on tiptoe for a mate,
The welcome vessel reach'd the genial strand,
And round her flock'd the daughters of the land.
Not decent David, when, before the ark,
His grand pas-seul excited some remark ;
Not love-lorn Quixote, when his Sancho thought
The knight's fandango friskier than it ought;
Not soft Herodias, when with winning tread
Her nimble feet danced off another's head;
Not Cleopatra on her galley's deck,
Display'd so much of leg, or more of neck,
Than thou, ambrosial Waltz, when first the moon
Beheld thee twirling to a Saxon tune!
To you-ye husbands of ten years! whose brows
Ache with the annual tributes of a spouse;
you of nine years less-who only bear
The budding sprouts of those that you
With added ornaments around them roll'd,
Of native brass, or law-awarded gold ;
To
you, ye matrons, ever on the watch
To mar a son's, or make a daughter's match!
To you, ye children of whom chance accords—
Always the ladies, and sometimes their lords ;
To you-ye single gentlemen, who seek
Torments for life, or pleasures for a week;
As Love or Hymen your endeavours guide,
To gain your own, or snatch another's bride;
To one and all the lovely stranger came,
And
every ball-room echoes with her name.
Endearing Waltz-to thy more melting tune
Bow Irish jig and ancient rigadoon;
Scotch reels avaunt! and, country-dance, forego
Your future claims to each fantastic toe:
Waltz-Waltz alone-both legs and arms demands,
Liberal of feet, and lavish of her hands;
Hands which may freely range in public sight
Where ne'er before-but-pray "put out the light."
Methinks the glare of yonder chandelier
Shines much too far-or I am much too near;
And true, though strange-Waltz whispers this remark,
My slippery steps are safest in the dark!"
But here the muse with due decorum halts,
And lends her longest petticoat to Waltz.
Observant travellers! of every time;
Ye quartos, publish'd upon every clime;
O say, shall dull Romaika's heavy round,
Fandango's wriggle, or Bolero's bound;
Can Egypt's Almas-tantalizing group-
Columbia's caperers to the warlike whoop-
Can aught, from cold Kamschatka to Cape Horn,
With Waltz compare, or after Waltz be borne !
Ah, no! from Morier's pages down to Galt's,
Each tourist pens a paragraph for "Waltz."
Shades of those belles, whose reign began of yore,
With George the Third's-and ended long before-
Though in your daughters' daughters yet you thrive,
Burst from your lead, and be yourselves alive!
Back to the ball-room speed your spectred host:
Fool's paradise is dull to that you lost.
No treacherous powder bids conjecture quake;
No stiff starch'd stays make meddling fingers ache
(Transferr'd to those ambiguous things that ape
Goats in their visage, women in their shape);
No damsel faints when rather closely press'd,
But more caressing seems when most caress'd;
Superfluous hartshorn, and reviving salts,
Both banish'd by the sovereign cordial, “Waltz.”
Seductive Waltz!—though on thy native shore
Even Werter's self proclaim'd thee half a whore ;
Werter-to decent vice though much inclined,
Yet warm, not wanton; dazzled, but not blind-
Though gentle Genlis, in her strife with Stael,
Would even proscribe thee from a Paris ball;
The fashion hails from countesses to queens,
And maids and valets waltz behind the scenes;
Wide and more wide thy witching circle spreads,
And turns-if nothing else—at least our heads;
With thee even clumsy cits attempt to bounce,
And cockneys practise what they can't pronounce.
Gods! how the glorious theme my strain exalts,
And rhyme finds partner rhyme in praise of "Waltz."
Blest was the time Waltz chose for her debut:
The court, the Regent, like herself were new;
New face for friends, for foes some new rewards,
New ornaments for black and royal guards;
New laws to hang the rogues that roar'd for bread;
New coins (most new) to follow those that fled;
New victories-nor can we prize them less,
Though Jenky wonders at his own success;
|