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 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
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 /iZi
 
 THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES.
 
 Printed by George Ramsay & Co. 
 Edinbiiigli, 1817.
 
 THE 
 
 PARADISE 
 
 OF 
 
 COQUETTES, 
 
 A POEM. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 EDINBURGH ; 
 
 PIIINTKD FOR AUCIIinALD CONSTAni.E AND CO. 
 AND LONGMAN, HUKST, IlEES, OKME, ANl) BFiOWN, LONDON. 
 
 1817.
 
 
 
 3^1 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 !> 1 o present a long poem to the world, in this 
 ^ age of criticism, is sufficiently perilous in it- 
 ' self, whatever may be its subject or its pecu- 
 liar manner of composition. How much more 
 perilous is it, if, with the misfortune of being 
 \ long, it have the additional misfortune of not 
 ^ harmonizing with the prevailing taste of the 
 Z, period ! 
 
 The fashion of our poetic taste, and the 
 fashion of our general manners, exhibit at pre- 
 sent a contrast, which a philosophic observer 
 of the varieties of human judgment and caprice
 
 U PREFACE. 
 
 cannot fail to remark. If an estimate of our 
 national character were to be formed, in our 
 drawing-rooms, and in those places of promis- 
 cuous resort, which are still even a little more 
 public than the most crowded of our private 
 saloons, we should unquestionably be ranked 
 as a people of the gay^ or at least, since our 
 efforts to be gay are not always very happy, 
 as a people of determined 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 
 characterized as a far more serious generation, 
 than the gentlemen in buckram, and the ladies 
 in hoops and stomachers, who preceded us at 
 the distance of more than a century ; when to 
 listen, with a decorous modesty of every fea- 
 ture, was the great accomplishment of youth- 
 ful Beauty, as it is now to talk and laugh with
 
 PREFACE. in 
 
 grace, and when, before the privileged free- 
 dom which matrimony conferred, 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 opposite character of the manners and 
 literature of these different periods seems to 
 have been produced, would require 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 austerities of puritanism forced out^ 
 from the courtly party, a more abundant li- 
 centiousness of gaiety, than would otherwise 
 have been evolved ,- and when, with little virtue 
 and not much profound statesmanship round 
 the most profligate of our sovereigns, there
 
 IV PREFACE. 
 
 was always *' a ring of witty courtiers round 
 their witty king." 
 
 In this reign of quips and cranks, and wan- 
 ton wiles, when a jest and the most important 
 interests of the state were regarded as matters 
 of nearly equal moment, and when the gayest 
 courtiers thought it not unworthy of " persons 
 of honour" to be inditers of songs and madri- 
 gals, the literature, to which they were dis- 
 pensers of patronage, could not fail to be in 
 some measure reflective of the careless merri . 
 ment that presided over it. 
 
 Other Courts, indeed, brought more seve- 
 rity of manners : but there is in literature 
 something which does not admit of so rapid a 
 change- The hours of our repasts, the fashions 
 of our drapery, and all the gay or grave cere- 
 monial of our public courtesies, to which our 
 feelings of internal decorum speedily adapt
 
 PREFACE. V 
 
 themselves, we can alter at a moment's warn- 
 ing: 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 
 direction of inventive genius, continue still to 
 preserve a certain relation to them. The 
 gravity of the court of William was a power- 
 ful 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 illus- 
 trious 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 arc ready to
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 suppose on the gaiety or gravity within, may 
 thus account for many seeming irregularities, 
 which the taste and manners of a country 
 present j at periods, when important events, 
 or accidental diversities in the morals and 
 humours of the leaders of courts, that are not 
 able to change on a sudden the literary taste 
 of a country, have yet tended to impress a pe- 
 culiar form on the intercourse of social life. 
 But there are circumstances, also, that must 
 be the same in every country, in which educa- 
 tion is extensively diffused, and the various 
 ranks of educated society mingle with each 
 other, which tend, as I conceive, in no slight 
 dcgi'ee, to affect the gay or serious character 
 of the national literature. When the advan- 
 tage of refined instruction is limited to an 
 aristocracy, elegance of manners will be con- 
 fined, or nearly confined, within the same
 
 PREFACE. VIl 
 
 little sphere. To possess the tone of that so- 
 ciety is to be in some measure distinguished j 
 to acquire it is an object of proud desire ; 
 and the poet, who is perhaps the most ambi- 
 tious 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 gentleman ; and while 
 the influence of this wish prevails, it is not 
 wonderful, that there should appear some ex- 
 quisite pieces of light and brilliant fancy, to- 
 gether 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, education in its fullest intellectual 
 sense, of all that is useful and elegant in art 
 and science is widely diffused, and the light
 
 VIU rUEFACE. 
 
 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 semblance of their spright- 
 ly frivolities j since little would be gained, by 
 appearing to be what such multitudes are. 
 In these circumstances, therefore, it is not 
 wonderful that the poet, as eager as before to 
 be prominently conspicuous, should be 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. His ambition is to be distinguished ; 
 and he feels that his excellence will then be 
 most distinguished from that of the lively 
 talkers around him, when his poetry is adapt- 
 ed to the production of emotions of an oppo-
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 site cast. It is a very natural prejudice of the 
 multitude, to suppose, that a work of art so 
 elaborate is then least exquisite of its kind, 
 when it resembles most what is familiar and 
 seemingly spontaneous ; and the more gene- 
 rally gay and playful conversation may be, 
 therefore, the less gay often, I conceive, in 
 such a case, is poetry likely to become. 
 
 The strongest ambition, however, which a 
 poet can feel, must always have a relation to 
 the minds of his readers ; and he cannot be 
 supposed to continue long a prefierence of 
 any style, which he does not expect to be 
 agreeable to them. But the wide-spread fri- 
 volity of our general manners is far from un- 
 favourable to a species of poetry that might 
 seem at first to be little in hai'mony with it. 
 In the fashionable crowds of every evening, 
 where all is rapid change of place, and glare
 
 X PREFACE. 
 
 and glitter, there is too much hurry and dis- 
 traction of the mere senses, for that easy in- 
 tellectual play of thought, which is either wit 
 itself or the inspirer of wit. We have multi- 
 tudes, who, bustling after pleasure, and using 
 their best exertions to be gay, have perhaps 
 little enjoyment in society, but are not on that 
 account the less listless when out of it, and 
 are always, therefore, sufficiently ready to 
 yawn, in the intervals from dissipation to dis- 
 sipation. It is in these hours of languor, 
 however, that they are readers j and it is prin- 
 cipally for the sake of dispelling their mental 
 weariness that they avail themselves of the well- 
 bound pieces of furniture which adorn their 
 tables. What affords the most excitement, is 
 therefore the most gratifying : and this is not 
 afforded, by light and graceful pictures of 
 
 gaiety, that seem only to reflect a colder image 
 1
 
 PREFACE. XI 
 
 of the very happiness that is absent and la^ 
 meuted, so much as by horrors and mysteries, 
 and all that is dark and wild in nature or ro- 
 mance. The influence of such a state of 
 society on the general taste, is therefore to 
 lessen the capacity of feeling the gentle and 
 delicate beauties of poetry, in the same pro- 
 portion as it increases the love of exhibitions 
 of what is marvellous in adventure, and mon- 
 strous in sentiment, and fierce, and tumultu- 
 ous, and overstrained in passion. 
 
 Be the cause what it may, however, the fact 
 is certain that the light and playful fancy, 
 which amused the gravity of our great-great- 
 grandfathers, is now but little visible, in the 
 poetry of their gayer grandchildren. Even 
 our satire, partaking of the selfishness of our 
 serious passions, is only for the leaders or fol- 
 lowers of a political party j and, beyond the
 
 XII rUEFACE. 
 
 compass of an epigram or an epilogue, a song 
 or a parody, it seems to us scarcely conceiv- 
 able, that there should be any relation of verse 
 and smiles. 
 
 In this almost exclusive reign of the graver 
 Muses, two styles, of a very different kind, 
 liave absorbed and divided the general admi- 
 ration, the style of legendary romajicCf and 
 the serious descriptive. 
 
 Of these the more popular is, without all 
 question, that which, as flowing from the sim- 
 ple minstrelsy of our ancient heroic ballads, 
 retains still, with all the refinement which it 
 has received from genius of the highest order, 
 a certain affinity of character, though not of 
 imperfection, to the ruder compositions in 
 which it had its origin. 
 
 That this style has many excellences, can- 
 not be denied, and excellences, which are
 
 PREFACE. XIU 
 
 perhaps of greater value, in the long compli- 
 cated 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 itself 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, dur- 
 ing its first representation, some very kind 
 friend at our elbow were to be unwearied in 
 telling us, Now the Princess is gone, to pre- 
 pare the poison, which is afterwards to be slily 
 mixed in the bowl for her rival, Now the 
 Prince is to discover, that he has been made
 
 XIV PREFACE. 
 
 the instrument 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 that is not imposed on the 
 poet of romance, who is allowed a far greater 
 exercise of the magic of his art, and may whisk 
 us from Britain to the Holy Land, or from 
 any part of this terraqueous 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 authors who adopt the legendary style 
 profit occasionally by its licensed abruptness, 
 they profit no less in the additional force of 
 seeming reality, which they are enabled to give
 
 PREFACE. XV 
 
 to their descriptions, by a privilege of an op- 
 posite kind, that of almost unbounded ?/- 
 nuteness of detail. Whole armies may be 
 made to parade before us, with all their capa- 
 risons, 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 described, with the technical fidelity of 
 a didactic armourer or a controversial anti- 
 quary. The advantage, in impression of truth, 
 which a picture derives from this minuteness, 
 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 corresponding weariness, which 
 perhaps was little felt, when object succeeded 
 object rapidly, in the original perusal. In a 
 work constructed on a different model, so cum-
 
 XVI PREFACE. 
 
 brous a detail would indeed be rejected, with 
 instant dislike, as implying too little of that se- 
 lection which we require in the pictures of an 
 artist,who sets out with theassnmptionofa cha- 
 racter of high finish: and this constant ac- 
 companying impression of want of taste in the 
 poet would deprive his minuteness of the ef- 
 fect, which otherwise it might have succeed- 
 ed in producing. In the minstrelsy of ro- 
 mance, however, no such counteracting im- 
 pression exists, to check the spontaneous feel- 
 ings. The minuteness is considered as in per- 
 fect congruity with the species of composition. 
 It is what we expected ; and therefore, since 
 it does not bi'ing the author himself before us 
 as a delinquent, it allows us to receive quietly 
 the images, which he presents to us with a 
 distinct particularity, that makes them felt as 
 real and almost familiar.
 
 PREFACE. XVn 
 
 Tosfether with these advantatjes, in the live- 
 liness of its abrupt transitions, and the graphic 
 fidelity of its pictures, there can be no doubt, 
 that a style which has any affinity, however 
 slight, to that of our ancient ballads, derives a 
 powerful accession of interest, from its associa- 
 tion with the feelings of early years, in the ro- 
 mantic literature and traditionary lore of the 
 nursery. Of that little circle of erudition, tales 
 of wonder formed the principal part ; and even 
 the faintest and most shadowy reminiscences of 
 these, may well be supposed to be attcncicd 
 with some portion of the pleasure, with v.hith 
 we view a scene, that rccals to us the distant 
 home of our youth. How much of the pecu- 
 liar charm of national music; is derived from 
 the early songs that lulled the infant to slum- 
 ber, or suspended the sjiort of the boy, when 
 he rested his little head on his mollier's knee,
 
 XVlll PREFACE. 
 
 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 cha- 
 racter of the national melody. It charms us 
 perhaps as excellent in itself; but it charms 
 us too as the awakener of emotions of other 
 years. 
 
 I know that, by many fastidious critics, the 
 style is, on this very account, regarded with 
 unjust disparagement. 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 pleasures of taste, 
 to find a principle of more general operation.
 
 TRKFACE. XIX 
 
 than that which invests with peculiar charms, 
 whatever is representative of the studies or pas- 
 times 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 seeking the aid, therefore, which may 
 be derived from 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 exquisite tragedy, that early love of imi- 
 tation, which becomes apparent in the first 
 exertions of the infant, and converts 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 suf- 
 fer himself to be misled by the prejudice, that
 
 XX PREFACE. 
 
 every thing must be childish, by which child- 
 ren are pleased. Yet, though the style of 
 romantic minstrelsy is not censurable on this 
 account, there are evils that must flow from it 
 to the poets of genius who may cultivate it, 
 and to the readers whose enthusiastic admira- 
 tion 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 Jjuffer- 
 ing hero or heroine, the commanding influ- 
 ence of the very sway which he deprecates. 
 
 It is the duty of the poet, as I have said, 
 to derive as much aid as his subject may allow, 
 from all the sources of pleasure in our mental 
 frame, that lie within the compass of his art. 
 But of the many sources, of which he may 
 thus occasionally avail himself, for pai'ticular
 
 PREFACE. XXI 
 
 purposes, all are not alike worthy of his 
 mightier and more comprehensive efforts. 
 There are local, and temporary, and acciden- 
 tal 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 countries, who, preferring what 
 is universal in our nature to what is partial 
 and transient, addresses himself to the feelings 
 of all ages and countries. Many peculiarities 
 of the style of lays of romance are accordant, 
 indeed, with some of our liveliest susceptibili- 
 ties of emotion, and depend, therefore, on 
 principles, which must be of constant opera- 
 tion, 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
 
 XXll I'KEFACE. 
 
 and quaint, are consecrated to us only by the 
 remembrance of similar phrases in the early 
 legends of our youth j and where that elevating 
 influence never has been felt, or has ceased to 
 be felt, must appear in their genuine awkward- 
 ness 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 imi- 
 tator what was meagre poverty of phrase only 
 in the sorry rhymings which he imitated. Nor 
 is it quite certain, that, even in our own country, 
 the early associations, which nowconfer dignity 
 on the occasional harsh or prosaic phraseology, 
 that is still sometimes permitted, in modern 
 poetic romance, to remind us at distant in- 
 tervals, of our ancient ballads, are likely to 
 subsist as long, as that perpetuity of reverence 
 which every poet must wish, for all the forms
 
 PREFACE. XXUl 
 
 and phrases of his own works. Whatever 
 little philosophy we may exercise with re- 
 spect to ourselves, we have of late grown 
 wonderously philosophic in all matters of the 
 nursery. Within those walls, where they 
 once presided as Divinities, Ghosts and Gob- 
 lins have no longer a permitted entrance ; and 
 the place of the dark and shadowy talcs, which 
 spoke of them, is supplied by innocent mora- 
 lities 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 scarcely 
 known to the baby. philosophers of both sexes, 
 who may be trained to lisp and prattle un- 
 meaningly, about experiments and proposi- 
 tions, around the very fire, where their little
 
 XXIV PREFACE. 
 
 predecessors had laughed or trembled, at the 
 tale of the merry fay or cruel genie. 
 
 This slight and uncertain evil, which a poet 
 may possibly suffer, from his adoption of cer- 
 tain legendary forms of expression, that must 
 continue as his, though the feelings which con- 
 secrated them should have ceased, is however 
 scarcely worthy of being mentioned. The 
 great and certain evil of the style is the facility 
 ofpassing current imperfections, which, in any 
 other species of composition, he would be under 
 the necessity of correcting. Refined as the 
 modern poetic romance may be, it still con- 
 siders itself entitled on occasion to claim a 
 share of the ancient privileges of its more free 
 and careless predecessor; and a harsh or feeble 
 line will be admitted more readily, by him 
 who is led by his very subject to remember 
 the interest which he has felt in many fierce
 
 PREFACE. XXV 
 
 or doleful ditties in which such lines are to be 
 found, and can rely on the equally ready re- 
 membrance of them by his readers ! The 
 most useful of all lessons, which a poet, or a 
 writer of any kind, can receive, are those 
 which he derives from his own mind, during 
 the process of steadily correcting what is im- 
 perfect. Every fault, which is thus removed, 
 prevents many faults of future composition: 
 and he who too readily allows a blemish to 
 remain, in the confidence of its being over- 
 looked, is not merely deprived of the benefit 
 of this salutary self-correction, but will learn 
 to become gradually more and more self-in- 
 dulgent. It is not in the exorcism of vices 
 of style, as in exorcism of a different 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
 
 XXVI PliEFACE. 
 
 suffered to retain its place, a whole legion will 
 soon be there j 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 legen- 
 dary style, then, are injurious to the poet 
 himself, in that progress of excellence, which 
 is the noblest destiny of all that is not abso- 
 lutely perfect. But it is to the delighted and 
 devoted reader chiefly, that the style is hurt- 
 ful, in the corruption or pervez'sion of his taste. 
 Paradoxical as it may appear, it is hurtful, in 
 a great measure, by that very vividness of in- 
 terest, which it may seem the perfection of 
 poetry to produce. It must be remembered, 
 however, that vivid interest as the fair stu- 
 dents of a class of writings, that form now a 
 large portion of our yearly literature, know
 
 PREFACE. XXVll 
 
 well, may be excited by narratives, simply 
 as narratives, independently of all that distin- 
 guishes poetry from prose. The interest, 
 which a poetic romance thus affords, merely 
 as a story of marvellous incident, will be con- 
 founded 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, ailccted 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 mea- 
 surements of poetic excellence, and, in com- 
 paring the most exquisite compositions of a 
 calmer kind, with some hurried and tumultu- 
 ous tale of peril and mystery, will feel only 
 that the one has awakened more lively emo- 
 tion, and will err thei'efore, in awarding a 
 superiority which is not justly due. The more
 
 XXVm PREFACE. 
 
 habitually the mind may have been stimulated, 
 by perils and perplexities, and legendary won- 
 ders of all sorts, the less lively of course will 
 be the interest which it feels, in simple ima- 
 gery or sentiment, and in all the finer charms 
 and graces of verse. I am not sure, that he 
 who gives his nights and mornings to the un- 
 ravelment 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 mathematical 
 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 though this interest is far 
 from being precisely the same with the eager- 
 ness of curiosity excited, or the vivid delij'ht
 
 PREFACE. XXIX 
 
 of curiosity gratified, tliey may yet be so inti- 
 mately blended, that common eyes may be 
 incapable of distinguishing, in the complex 
 gratification, its faint and shadowy elements. 
 It is very manifest, that what affords pleasure 
 must at least have had the merit of being fitted 
 to produce pleasure; and it is not very won- 
 derful 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, how- 
 ever, 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
 
 XXX PREFACE, 
 
 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 pro- 
 duces is not that which flows directly from it- 
 self. It is one of a class ; and, as one of a 
 class, it often injures, by faults from which 
 itself is exempt. To be delighted with an he- 
 roic 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 superior works that 
 have seduced us, we should have regarded 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
 
 PREFACE. XXXI 
 
 before debased, but when the pre-existing mo- 
 dels are such as it is possible for his own high 
 genius to surpass indeed, but which never can 
 be regarded 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 aire. 
 They are not, like the Jupiter and Apollo of 
 Greece, a nobler form of all that is noblest in 
 the external majesty or grace and beauty of 
 man ; but resemble far more the rudely carv- 
 ed blocks, that, with abundant ferocity of eyes 
 and mouth, but without a single arm or leg, 
 have long received the worship of some savage 
 tribe, or, at best, some Deva of Hindostan, 
 sitting 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 re-
 
 XXXll PREFACE. 
 
 semblance 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 a Phidias is to be 
 formed, or the eye that is to be worthy of es- 
 timating the works of a Phidias. 
 
 Short as the period has been, since the re- 
 vival of this taste, sufficient proof has been 
 afforded of the admiration, that may be reflect- 
 ed on a whole class by individual works of ex- 
 cellence. We have lived to see ail the embel- 
 lishments of the press bestowed on the most 
 miserable rhymings, that chronicle the feats of 
 some petty marauder, not for the sake of the 
 light, which even such petty chronicles may 
 unquestionably throw on more important con- 
 temporary history, not as elucidating the 
 progress of the finest of arts, and presenting a
 
 PREFACE. XXXlll 
 
 picture of the amusements of our feudal and 
 semibarbarous ancestors, but as Poems, in 
 themselves worthy of an admiration, which, as 
 yet, we never think of bestowing on meagreness 
 and meanness a little nearer to our own time. 
 The qualities which we admire as ancient, 
 however, we may gradually learn to admire 
 too when modern : for it is impossible thus to 
 have increased our admiration of what is rude, 
 without some corresponding assimilation of 
 our taste to the still duller rudeness of discern- 
 ment, which, at another period, could listen 
 to such strains, as the sublimest poetry. 
 
 Popular, however, as the legendary style has 
 of late been rendered, by those eminent talents, 
 which have known how to exhibit it in its most 
 attractive forms, it has still but a divided sway 
 with another species of poetry ; which has not 
 perhaps so great a number of admirers, but
 
 XXXIV PREFACE. 
 
 has among its admii*ers a greater number of 
 the sage and refined, whose critical sensibility 
 has been nourished by the study of the finish- 
 ed models of ancient and modern literature. 
 
 The style to which I allude, is what may be 
 termed the serious descriptive ^ exhibiting trains 
 cff moral reflection, with accordant images 
 from the scenery of inanimate nature, or the 
 living scene of human pleasure and pain, and 
 vice and virtue. It is perhaps in this power- 
 ful and dignified species of poetry, that our 
 country has a higher claim to superiority, than 
 in any other which could be named, and a su- 
 periority, which I conceive to be itself found- 
 ed 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 
 1
 
 PREFACE, XXXV 
 
 nations, and, with the long enjoyment of this 
 freedom, have acquired that more elevated tone 
 of moral sentiment, which cannot fail to exist 
 with liberty, vvhere liberty is not the mere 
 lawlessness of a savage, 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 social scene, be- 
 cause we have before our eyes a brighter and 
 more beautiful society. Our moral descrip- 
 tions, too, have the charm of being more va- 
 rious 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, constitute all the varie- 
 ties of social life, but those innumerable 
 beautiful gradations of hidependence, in which
 
 XXXVl PREFACE. 
 
 there is a difference of rank indeed, and of 
 the external form of happiness, but not of the 
 amount of happiness itself, nor of the fearless 
 security, in which that happiness reposes. 
 
 It is an additional excellence of this species 
 of poetry, that it tends, by the most delightful 
 of all reciprocations, to nourish the pure and 
 generous moral feelings, in which it has in part 
 originated. So various are the external cir- 
 cumstances, that determine, I will not say the 
 whole character, but many of those particular 
 actions, by the repetition of which the general 
 character may be insensibly modified, that it 
 would be absurd to endeavour to estimate, in 
 any case, the amount of influences 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 important element would be found
 
 PREFACE. XXXVII 
 
 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 makinfT of their ballads : and though we 
 may not perhaps be willing to admit the 
 paradox, to the whole extent of its literal im- 
 port, it may be readily admitted, to the li- 
 mited extent, in which he probably meant it 
 to be understood. The notions of vice and 
 vii'tue, that are truly effective, are not those 
 which we call up, in our grave inquiries into 
 the principles of morals and the practical du- 
 ties of nian, but those which float along the 
 mind spontaneously, in the very hour or mo- 
 ment of action. There is a morality of our 
 current trnins of thought, not arranged indeed 
 as a system of principles in regular order, but 
 a mixed result of lessons, and examples, and
 
 XXXVIU PREFACE, 
 
 reflections, and accidental associations of plea- 
 sure and pain, of the most interesting events, 
 that have Impressed 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, because most easy to be remem- 
 bered, that happy eloquence of verse, which, 
 in conveying to us moral truths, has impressed 
 them on our hearts, in a manner that made it 
 impossible for us to forget them. These, unit- 
 ed, form as it were one active moral impulse, 
 the persuasive force of which, except in cases 
 of very strong passion or very powerful temp- 
 tation, 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
 
 PREFACE. XXXIX 
 
 superstition still more wretchedly debasing, it 
 co-operates with the great native principle 
 within us, in preserving feelings, that might 
 otherwise have been clouded or overwhelmed. 
 The bard has not lost, in the civil'zed world, 
 the function, which he is represented as exer- 
 cising more directly, in a simpler and wilder 
 state of society. He is a legislator still, fashion- 
 ing our conduct, even when we are not con- 
 scious 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 embellish- 
 ment 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
 
 xl PREFACE. 
 
 any one to say, how much he has morally pro- 
 fited, 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 movement, by the elegance 
 of the mien and gestures of his familiar as- 
 sociates, there can be no question that a cer- 
 tain moral grace of this kind is acquired, 
 which directs the mental conduct often as in- 
 sensibly, 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 preceded and produced them. 
 
 The great evil of our serious poetry, how- 
 ever, in this respect, is that, by the very cir- 
 cumstance of its stately gravity, it has neces- 
 sarily a tlidactic air, which lessens the force of 
 its persuasion. It is an original sin of our na-
 
 PREFACE. ^il 
 
 ture, to be not very willing to admit reproof. 
 Even general satire, if satire be grave, finds 
 the reader usually as impenetrably on his 
 guard, as if he were himself guilty of some 
 one or other of the mnies, against which the 
 invective is directed j 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 asi^aults 
 of a lustier arm, in serious and pertinacious 
 combat with every human vice and folly. 
 When Horace is charactered 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, 
 
 * Omne vafer vitium ridenti Flaccus amico 
 Tangit, et admissus circum pra^cordia ludit.
 
 xlii PREFACE. 
 
 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 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 Beauty, with which every 
 amorous songster thinks that he embellishes 
 his miserable madrigal or acrostic: yet how 
 juuch delight do we owe to Venus and the
 
 PREFACE. xliii 
 
 Graces, when introduced to us by bards, whom 
 these Divinities themselves seem to have gladly 
 admitted into their train ! The inexhaustible 
 creations of this sort, which are for ever lying 
 open to the imagination, our serious descrip- 
 tive poetry docs not exclude indeed, for it 
 derives from them occasionally its sublimcst 
 ornaments : but the general spirit of the poetry 
 is not friendly to them. It accustoms us rather 
 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 
 sentinients of all that is generous and heroic , 
 it endears man to our regard as amiable, to 
 our pity as suffering, to our very wrath and 
 indignation, if he be a sufferer under oppres- 
 sion. It moves us with all the vehemence of 
 oratory; but it scarcely employs a more figur- 
 ed phrase, than the orator considers himself
 
 Xliv PREFACE. 
 
 permitted to use. It seems to have an office 
 too important, to allow it to stop to trifle with 
 the airy and shadowy beings that may come 
 across it in its way : and the reader, assimi- 
 lated gradually in sentiment to the prevailing 
 feelings of the bard who has frequently delight- 
 ed him, learns at last, or almost learns, to 
 consider poetry as only the perfection of ani- 
 mated prose. 
 
 In these circumstances, with warm admira- 
 tion of the genius of the great masters in the 
 other departments of verse, but with a wish to 
 direct some little attention to a province that 
 seems to me to have been unworthily neglect- 
 ed, I venture to submit to the public the fol- 
 lowing 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
 
 PREFACE. Xlv 
 
 the smile or the frown, to satirize what is 
 worthy of satire, but to satirize playfully, 
 rather by painting than invective, and, at 
 the same time, to enliven the picture of the 
 mere human scene with some of those em- 
 bodied shapes of the fairy world of fancy, 
 which, powerful as they are in embellishment, 
 it is too much the fashion of modern poetry 
 to disregard. 
 
 CD 
 
 It is an attempt, however, only, and an 
 attempt, of which, in the present direction of 
 poetic taste and studios, 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 every breast ;
 
 xlvi PKEFACE. 
 
 and all, or almost all, who have received the 
 general instruction that is necessary for being 
 readers of poetry, can feel the charm of senti- 
 ments 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 addressed to a small circle. 
 It requires, in those whom it addresses, a 
 knowledge not merely of the tone of that 
 society from which its heroes and heroines are 
 drawn, but, in combination with this, a quick 
 perception of the lighter shades of character 
 and passion, which are invisible to common 
 eyes, accustomed only to the broad and the 
 glaring; and an acquaintance 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
 
 PREFACE, Xlvii 
 
 coarseness, have all the light contrast of 
 parody itself. It is not among the young, 
 who arc the quickest to admire and the 
 warmest to praise, that such poetry must look 
 for favour, but, where favour is far more 
 rarely to be found, among the mature in expe- 
 rience and discernment, whose susceptibility of 
 lively admiration has been cooled by the very 
 culture which fitted them to judge, who are 
 slow therefore to be delighted, and wlio ex- 
 press their delight in terras of calm and qua- 
 lified 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 influ- 
 ence of former habits of poetic reading of a 
 different kind, that I have little doubt, that 
 the f;ir greater proportion of my readei's will 
 consider as censurable in the poem, what yet,
 
 xlviii PREFACE. 
 
 in the hope of the approbation of the smaller 
 number, I have not hesitated to retain. I al- 
 lude to the colloquy of my heroine with her 
 Tutelary Inspirer, in the history which he 
 fifives of the early ambition which he cherish- 
 ed, and her simulation of half- reluctant acqui- 
 escence in a destiny that was the object of 
 her secret wishes, which those who are ac- 
 customed to consider poetry as little more than 
 a medium of description of bustling incident, 
 and who regard everything, therefore, as su- 
 perfluous that does not shift a scene or hurry 
 on an event, will of course view only as a 
 needless retardation of the glorious vision that 
 was to be indulged to her ; but without which, 
 as I conceive, it would have been impossible 
 for me to delineate faithfully that character of 
 exquisite coquetry, v/hich alone could justify 
 and account for the privileged revelation.
 
 PREFACE. Xlix 
 
 It has been my wish, accordingly, in the 
 whole conduct of my heroine, to preserve, as 
 faithfully as my art would allow, the cha- 
 racter 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 delightful power. 
 If the tiny Divinity had descended, only to 
 fling the cestus, that was to endow with the 
 necessary lightness the beautiful form which 
 it encircled ; or if she had calmly listened to 
 his story of all which he had done for her, 
 and ventured only on a look of thanks ; there 
 can be no doubt, that the earthly visitant might 
 have been sooner admitted within the Paradise 
 of her kindred Immortals : but, in that case, 
 
 my heroine would not have been of suflicient 
 d
 
 1 PREFACE. 
 
 dignity of preeminence in the rank of his wor- 
 shippers, to merit the peculiar favour of the 
 mighty being, who was to condescend to be 
 her guide. To the perfection of her charac- 
 ter, and therefore indirectly to the perfection 
 of his, it was necessary, that, in the represen- 
 tation of the celestial interview, she should 
 dare, almost without intentionally willing it, a 
 sort of gentle flirtation with the Tutelary Sprite 
 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, re- 
 quires only the presence of a being who can 
 admire. 
 
 It is not, however, the mere picture of cha- 
 racter, essential as it truly is to the main ac- 
 tion of the piece, which is in this case to be
 
 PREFACE. h 
 
 considered. The delay, which the little dia- 
 logue produces, must be regarded also in the 
 light relation which it is intended to bear to 
 the tardy 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 men. The high debate, and the 
 contest of arms, admit here 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 stratagems. 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
 
 lii PREFACE. 
 
 plain where Caesar or ^neasor Hector fought, 
 a field of conquest or defeat. 
 
 An objection, of the same kind as that 
 which I have now supposed, 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, my readers 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 general conduct of the poem, or its general 
 style, they will not forget how much it is the 
 very essence of such poetry, to give a gay im- 
 portance to very little matters, and how neces- 
 sary it is, that the style, in this respect, should 
 harmonize with the light and sportive solem- 
 nities of which it treats.
 
 PREFACE. liii 
 
 On this accordance of style, however, the 
 force of which, as an essential charm of versi- 
 fication, seems to me not sufficiently under- 
 stood, I may perhaps, even at the close of a 
 preface already too long, be permitted to offer 
 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 re- 
 markable accordances are of course sparingly 
 used, and reserved for the most striking cir- 
 cumstances in the narrative or description ^ 
 since, if frequent, they would not merely in- 
 terrupt too much the natural flow of the 
 rhythm, but would betray a laborious search
 
 liv PREFACE. 
 
 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 distin- 
 guishable only by the few, who, not content 
 with being simply pleased, arc in the habit of 
 analyzing their very pleasures. In some tale 
 of military conflict, for example, the accord- 
 ance of the strain is not to be in a sinorle line 
 or two only, that may imitate the rushing of 
 cavalry, or the clashing of swords, or the
 
 PREFACE. Iv 
 
 thunder of the mightier engines of modern 
 war ; but the whole style should partake of 
 the character of the impetuous feelings de- 
 scribed, and of the feelings that rise by sym- 
 pathy in the mind of the reader. It should 
 comprehend much action in little space j the 
 metrical rhythm should be frequently broken ; 
 and the words themselves, which constitute 
 the rhythm, be chosen less for softness than for 
 force. The whole 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 species of separate sounds 
 themselves, and the order of their collocation, 
 which might be the best suited for a descrip- 
 tion so tumultuous, are surely not the best that 
 could be selected for describing the elegant 
 frivolities of the toilet, and all that gentle
 
 Ivi PREFACE. 
 
 warfare for which the toilet prepares. The 
 lines may have the same number of syllables ; 
 but he must indeed have little poetic discrimi- 
 nation, 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 harmonize 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 rush along, with a correspond- 
 ing diversity of movement. A series of the 
 harshest syllables, descriptive of the repose 
 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 chief 
 harmony, in short, is not with sounds, or other 
 external qualities, but with the internal emo-
 
 PREFACE. Ivii 
 
 tions ; and, as these are gay, or soft, or im- 
 petuous, the whole character oi' the strain is to 
 be impetuous, or soft, or gay. The hurry of 
 images, in a great poet's description of a 
 battle, is reflective of the hurrying feelings, in 
 the minds of the warring multitude : but he 
 has surely feelings of a very diflcrent kind to 
 reflect, if the warfare which he sings be 
 that of looks and tones. His sti'ain, how- 
 ever, 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 objects 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 
 vai-ying but ever faithful semblance of the 
 sprightliness, with which Beauty enlivens even 
 wit itself, of the gentle languor, with which
 
 Iviii PREFACE. 
 
 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 difFuseness, 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 as are awakened by the presence 
 of Beauty herself j and his verse, and the 
 images which his verse pi'esents, that are the 
 only means of his art, must conspire in the 
 delightful effect, with according influence. 
 
 It was not, however, the nature of my sub- 
 ject only, which I had to consider, in deter- 
 mining the style that would suit it, but the 
 sort of audience also which I imagined before 
 me. It must be remembered, that, in my 
 poem, I describe myself as addressing the
 
 PREFACE. lix 
 
 Fair, and the Fair alone. What, then, is the 
 style which such an audience supposes ? It 
 is the style of one, who delights as much in 
 the presence of those who are listening to 
 him, as in the subject which he treats, 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 
 endeavoured, 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 cither the conduct of the action, or 
 the general diction and flow of the thought or 
 of the verse, they will reflect, that the charac-
 
 Jx PREFACE. 
 
 ter in which the Poet professes to speak is that 
 of the Poet of Woman, that he is supposed 
 to be addressing Woman, and Woman only, 
 and addressing her on adventures of which 
 she is the heroine, and on charms and graces, 
 which it is the whole history of her beauty to 
 have exercised with failure or success.
 
 THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 INTRODUCTION. THE POET.
 
 Subject proposed. Ambition to be considered as the Poet 
 of Woman. Prophetic hopes of its fulfilment. Omens in 
 early life of future devotion io the love and praise of the 
 Fair. Pleasure felt in infancy at the smile of Female 
 Beauty. First lispings of veise in its praise. Love of 
 those Fairy Tales, to which the adventures of a heioine 
 gave interest. Discovery of the Metamorphoses of Ovid. 
 Effects of the perusal of that Poem. Milton's Eve. 
 The Planet Venus. Remembrances after Death.
 
 THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES. 
 
 PART I. 
 THE POET. 
 
 W HAT new delights the mortal Belle await. 
 
 When eyes all-coHquering 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 ! 
 e
 
 THK POET. {[part I, 
 
 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 
 One leaf of myrtle for whole wreaths of bay. 
 Ne'er shall he know to win a tender sigh, 
 Who trembles at eacli 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 flino^s 
 No sound of horror from its silken strii^gs ; 
 Bids no stern Major sterner Majors meet, 
 Nor softest Ensign gasp, but at your feet.
 
 PART I.] THE POET. 7 
 
 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 falls 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 all 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, 
 Wounds, which on purest cambric leave no stain, 
 And eyes which, tho' they froM-n,. can smile again !
 
 8 THE POET. [part I. 
 
 Such be my song ! To timid Woman dear, 
 Such ever be the song which claims her ear ! 
 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 treasur'd rhymings shall be laid, 
 The first sweet billet 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,
 
 PART I.] THE POET. i) 
 
 When marriage, closing each delightful strife, 
 Leaves the dull Husband yawning with his Wife, 
 Still with new rapture shall mi/ page succeed, 
 And languid eyes turn brighter, while they read. 
 
 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 
 Have said a thousand times the same dull thing, 
 Some happier Belle shall quote my tender line ; 
 And Beaux, wlio 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 Bard, 
 Think not, witli boastful suit, that claim I dare, 
 Without one omen to approve my prayer !
 
 10 THE POET. [part I. 
 
 Tho' round my brow no hallowing myrtle spread, 
 Nor turtles perch'd upon my infant head ; 
 To my young heart the early passion given 
 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 murmur ran, 
 And vain the soothings, vain the threats of Man, 
 With what calm joy I sunk at once to rest, 
 Lull'd by soft Woman's smile, on Woman's breast ! 
 
 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.
 
 PART I.] THE POET. 11 
 
 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,
 
 12 THE POET. [PAllT I. 
 
 While o'er each page my eager glance was flung, 
 'Twas but to learn, what female fate was sung : 
 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.
 
 PART I.] THE POET. 13 
 
 Like gentle Woman, blest with hearts that melt, 
 Here airy nymphs havesigh'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 for a dearer fire. 
 Blest be the tales, whose bright examples teach 
 With holy power the faithful truths I preach ; 
 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 soft scandal of the laughing sky ! 
 How dear that far-past day, when first, by chance. 
 Thy pictur'd miracles detain'd my glance !
 
 14 THE POET. [part I. 
 
 '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 Xiiith 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.
 
 PART I.] THE POET. 15 
 
 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, 
 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'd, and scorn'd for me. 
 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 v/elcome guest I ran with ready feet. 
 Too long a stranger, to a home of joy 
 Keturn'd, and sought with early glance her boy ; 
 Clasp'd on her knee once more, and smil'd to own 
 Her little fondling on his favourite throne ;
 
 16 THE POET. [part I. 
 
 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 1 
 How oft I almost fancied from her charms 
 A sudden foliage rustling in my arms. 
 And starting, while a doubtful glance I rais'd, 
 Felt even her kiss turn colder, as I gaz'd ! 
 
 Dire was the terror : yet, how wildly dear. 
 What wishes more than paid that single fear ; 
 Hopes, at whose boyish faith my sager skill 
 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 death-like solitude, so drear before, 
 With not one smiler nigh, was dull no more.
 
 PART I.] THE POET. If 
 
 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. 
 
 W'here'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 I woke. 
 
 Where, widening sudden into day, the glade 
 Drinks the full sun, while all around is shade, 
 And, humming 'mid the furze, the bees that roam 
 Seem shut for ever from the vale and home ;
 
 18 THE POET. [part I. 
 
 On that warm turfy circle careless spread, 
 While the long fern wav'd coolness o'er my head, 
 Andstillpreserv'djtho'Spring'ssweet blooms had died, 
 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'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 control, 
 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.
 
 i'ART I.] THE POET. 19 
 
 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 ; 
 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, 
 I lov'd to bathe and linger in the stream. 
 
 Wild transports ! Yet, tho' fled the trusting 
 hour. 
 Not vain the madness of so sweet a power, 
 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 tlie zeal. 
 Tho' chang'd that mute devotion, dearer now 
 Lips, that can smile warm answers to my vow.
 
 20 THE POET. [part 1. 
 
 While Love the grateful lesson has imprest, 
 To give my life to those who charm it best ; 
 Yet when, in strains that half-unbidden 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, thy tales unfold 
 
 Even nymphs I scorn'd, if nymphs were proud and 
 cold.
 
 PART I.] THE POET. 21 
 
 I lov'd not Juno's royal airs divine ; 
 Nay, tho' a poet, scarce could name the Nine. 
 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 ! 
 Who, blind to beauty, felt'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 marvell'd at thy poem's name. 
 What tho' our sire was driven from Eden's bowers, 
 Lost a few idle fruits, and idler flowers, 
 Still, in his Eve, tho' often 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. 
 f
 
 22 THE POET. [PAKT I. 
 
 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, 
 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 ?
 
 PART 1.3 THE VOET. 23 
 
 So, tlio' 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 wildflower of the spring 
 Thro' the low grass its dewy radiance fling. 
 Soft hands shall stoop, the hallovv'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 soul, the tlienie 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,
 
 24 THE POET. [part I. 
 
 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 to me.
 
 THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 THE ABJURATION OF COQUETRY.
 
 Address to Morning. Defence of the late lionr; of Fashion- 
 able 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 tlie disappointments and sli,dits which slie 
 had suffered. A Masquerade. A Private Concert. A Ball. 
 A lover attracted. Unexpected appearance of a former 
 favoured Lover. Entrance of a rival Beauiy. Her success 
 in carrying off Zephyra's admirer. Picture of a diminutive 
 fopling. Supper. Dance renewed after Supper. Advau- 
 tage of going very late to Parties. A farewell to all the arts 
 and pleasures ofCoquetry. Inadequacy of those pleasures 
 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 solum n' 
 vow OF abjuration.
 
 THE 
 
 ABJURATION OF COQUETRY. 
 
 bwEET hour of morn, whose half-creative ray 
 Calls the fresh world exulting into day, 
 "When every bird is song, 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 
 T'nitaird, unworshipp'd, by politer eyes.
 
 "0 TJIE ABJURATION [PARI 11. 
 
 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 ' 
 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 soften"d splendour throvr 
 On all the fair magnificence below ; 
 Teach every eye more languid love to speak, 
 The mellow'd rouge to live along the check,
 
 HAUT 11.] OF COQUETRY. S"! 
 
 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 coj lair, who met each glance with dread. 
 Melts, like the wax that glows above her head. 
 Such hours not frowning Sages can condemn : 
 T//e^ vigils keep, and Beauty copies them. 
 
 And thou, O beaver of the morning ray ! 
 Thou, too, the charm of Beauty shalt obey. 
 Duteous as Night, that comes not till she call. 
 Late at the Kout, ami later at the Ball ; 
 Thou, all her sueet caprices to fulfil, 
 Slialt suit tliv >;!ryini;- office to liov v.-ill.
 
 32 THE ABJURATION [PAKT II. 
 
 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, 
 Still, 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,
 
 PART ir.] OF COQUETRY. S3 
 
 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. 
 
 The thundering peal has ceas'd. 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 equal love 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 i* 
 Susan, who, skill'd to raise and to destroy, 
 The quick artificer of charms and joy.
 
 34 THE ABJURATION [PART II. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 Hers is the nightly 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. 
 
 Why does the bell its wonted call forbear ? 
 Why speeds not Susan from her cards or prayer ? 
 Ah ! think, too gentle Susan ! nor the while 
 Trust thy strong virtue to that stronger smile I
 
 PART II.] OF COUUETRI1. 35 
 
 Frank, like his master, knows sweet vows to weave ; 
 And Frank, the' not a Colonel, can deceive. 
 
 " Was it for this" the fair in murniurs broke 
 A sigh, half-finish'd, mingling as she spoke 
 " For this, when vied the Countess and Her Grace 
 With busy canvas, for a single face, 
 And, not content in colder form to ask, 
 Half wood me to the Concert or the Masque., 
 Was it for this, I heedless scorn'd them all, 
 And chose O fool to choose the simple Ball ! 
 Why, since some evil still our joy invades, 
 Why is not foresight given to mortal maids i 
 
 " O ! had I rather join'd the motley throng 
 Of crowns and cowls, the sermon and the song, 
 ^ieen every age assume the freakish fit. 
 And heard what folly fools can reckon wit;
 
 36 THE ABJURATION [PART 11. 
 
 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, Fool, or Clown ; 
 
 While nymphs, who never read Minerva's flinie, 
 
 Still know themselves a Goddess, by the name, 
 
 And, tho' unskilled in action to express 
 
 The Power of Wisdom, shew her, by her dress, 
 
 That easy mark, which asks but vulgar e3'es, 
 
 While darker wit speaks only to the wise. 
 
 Even then for, tho' my smile were hid from view, 
 
 Still my whole air might smile, and might subdue, 
 
 Kings, Sultans, Gods, I might have taught to bow, 
 
 Nor sigh'd All wretch, to think and sigh, as now ! 
 
 " Nay, to the concert ratlier had I stra} 'd, 
 Tho' forc'd to listen while the Duclicss play'd, 
 
 10
 
 PART II.] OF COQUETRY. 37 
 
 To hear, in vain, her harji 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 the' 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 languor had increas'd my power. 
 
 Some youth, his ears delighted to be free, 
 
 Had felt it doubly sweet to list to me ; 
 
 And, waking to the joy anew, my face 
 
 Had owed strange ! a rapture to Her Grace.
 
 38 THK ABJURATION [PART U. 
 
 " 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, through the opening rings 
 Of swords, and epaulets, and stars, and strings, 
 Sad gaz'd the brightest of the glittering band. 
 And much my ruffle prais'd, and more my hand. 
 If thus, all cumbrous, in that swell of dress 
 I swooning vanquish'd, could the Ball do less T
 
 PART ir.] OF COQUETRY, 39 
 
 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, 
 And with calm air, the surest to torment, 
 Steals angry spite's last comfort, to resent. 
 
 "Why was the triumph given ? Too flattering joy 1 
 Frail hour, which one frail minute could destroy ! 
 He came O 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 bow'd to nodding bevies, when we walk'd, 
 Smil'd when I smil'd, and talk'd, and laugh 'd,andtalk'd,
 
 40 THE ABJURATION [pART II. 
 
 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. 
 
 *' 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, [dread 
 
 Preach'd, what on Sundays, yawning nights of 
 My holy aunt thro' spectacles had read,
 
 PART II.] OF COQUETRY. 41 
 
 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, appear'd, 
 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 spcak> 
 And something like a blush half-cross'd my check, 
 Soon to the air the passing cloud I cast ; 
 The Colonel's smile was gayer than the last ;
 
 42 THE ABJURATION [PART II. 
 
 And Love, alas ! tho' warm, so soon grows cold 
 With a new swain before me and an old, 
 I bravely chose as kings and heroes do 
 And risk'd the ancient conquest, for a new. 
 
 " Ah, conquest risk'd in vain ! Provoking fate, 
 That Flavia came, and that she came so later- 
 Just enter'd, when, tho' sweet to say and hear, 
 The flagging nonsense 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 widow's 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, 
 
 10
 
 PART II.] OF COQUETRY. 4S 
 
 ** 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 ! 
 
 " When to the supper-hall we mov'd along. 
 Why was I doom'd to face her in the throng ! 
 With what provoking kindness did she stand, 
 And loose her arm from his, to press my hand, 
 And beg, with well-feign'd sympathy, to know 
 Of headaches which I felt three months ago !
 
 44 THE ABJURATION [PART 11. 
 
 I smil'd, with looks which all my soul convey'd. 
 O ! had they but the power, which bards have said! 
 
 " 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 board, 
 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 read}^ throng, and calid nie to the dance. 
 Fool, did I think, that steps which never cease, 
 And arms unwearied, shew a mind at peace !
 
 PAIIT II.] OF COQUETRV. 45 
 
 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 ! 
 
 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. 
 
 " Why danc'd not Flavia ? What in her could see 
 That faithless trifler, to prefer to me ! 
 'J'ho" 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.
 
 46 THE ABJURATION [PART II. 
 
 If eyes like his can think her roses grow, 
 That glass he dangles is not worn for show, [power 
 " Ah ! Had / gone as late ! Could Fortune's 
 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, 
 O ! had he, tho' with loose and untrick'd hair 
 I 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 the diamond's cost 
 This bauble crescent been mislaid or lost, 
 Or from my chariot, as with tliundering zeal 
 It flash'd along, but flown one noisy wheel, 
 Then had I enter'd, latest of the proud, [crowd ; 
 And walk'd, and look'd, and conquer'd, thro' the
 
 VART II.] OF COQUETRY. 4? 
 
 The Colonel would have vied, in smiles and praise, 
 Nor Flavia's bloom been left 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 tiiuiiiph be, tho' shorter, sure; 
 No idle moment left for falsehood's tricks, 
 Love viust 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-fiying hearts ! 
 Farewell each look and sound of labour'd guile, 
 Tiie mirthless titter, and the joyless smile, 
 The glance, that, ever ready to be gone. 
 Now roves o'er crowds, now languishes on one,
 
 48 THE ABJURATION [pAKT 11. 
 
 Praise of the Beau, and malice of the Belle, 
 Dear wit, and dearer folly, all farewell! 
 
 " No more for me shall conquests fill the hour, 
 With all the sweet anxieties of power, 
 To win some yet unvanquish'd lover's sigh, 
 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-fiU'd waste around, 
 My waited laugh to all of mirth the sign. 
 And the eyes dim, that catch no beam from mine.
 
 PART JI.] OF COQUETRY. 49 
 
 " Ah triumphs still too deiir ! Ah glories gain'J 
 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 Ravia triumphs, where my power has fail'd. 
 
 " True, Flavia tvou/d be wise, to Age and Youth 
 A miracle of sense, and charms, and truth.
 
 50 THE ABJURATION- [pART ir. 
 
 Grave flattering 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 ibr 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 eacli blush arise, 
 And learns to look most beautifully wise !
 
 PART II.] OF COQUETRY. 51 
 
 " 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 control, 
 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 ? 
 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 Cella 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 tiling, who thinks he has a heart,
 
 52 THE ABJURATION [PART It. 
 
 To one short fame, to all but one disgrace ; 
 How Disappointment sits, and mocks the chace ! 
 For fops and feathers, can such tumult glow ! 
 Ah ! why to happiness prefer a Beau I 
 
 " Gay giddy hours, how often have ye seen 
 The aching heart belie the frolic mien I 
 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 repell'd my well-aim'd glance, 
 The dream and luxury of power was o'er ; 
 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-
 
 PART I" ] OF COQUETRY. 5;j 
 
 " Or O ! what torment, when, in homage mix'd, 
 
 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, 
 
 What torment then, to see some hateful thing, 
 That counts herself our rival, join the rin<'- ; 
 To feel the spreading buz around us glow, 
 And, when we turn us to our favour'd beau, 
 To 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, 
 //
 
 54 THE ABJURATION [PART IT. 
 
 That the keen eye, in chace of charms, might halt, 
 And from pure contradiction, seek a fault ! 
 
 *' Such slights, such pangs can Beauty's peace de- 
 stroy. 
 Ah thoughtless fools, who count our empire joy ! 
 
 " How happier she, who, in love's tranquil bower, 
 Clasps the sweet prize of conquest, not the power ; 
 Who, while one gaze her charms to all prefers. 
 And one warm heart returns the warmth of hers, 
 Heeds not, the' 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 ! 
 
 10
 
 PART II.] OF COQUETRY. 55 
 
 " Unknown to lier ambitious Beauty's fright, 
 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 Mira's, ere she bites them red, 
 And eyes like Fusca'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 destin'd to surpass, 
 Gleams cruel disappointment from our glass, 
 Discordant shades, that blend not as they glow - 
 And stiff tight folds, that vainly strive to flow ! 
 Her not the toilet's endless fret can teaze, 
 WIio pleases one, and seeks but one to please.
 
 56 THE ABJURATION [PARTU, 
 
 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 brln< 
 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 plav, 
 Can share the Captain's laugh, nor fear tlie v.hi:. 
 Lest angry (Jenerals frown at every smile.
 
 PART II.] OF COQUETRY. 57 
 
 Ah ! not like her, who, half afraid, half bold, 
 Proud of new slaves, yet loath 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. 
 
 " Yes! ye tir'd band, whom never respite saves, 
 Ye slaves, still toiling 'mid your train of slaves ! 
 Yes ! there are joys even vanity above ; 
 Ambition, conquest, what are ye, to love ! 
 
 " And love awaits me still, to bless my lot. 
 Let but Sir John, this luckless night forgot, 
 Renew to-morrow what he oft has pray'd ; 
 Even tho' no flatterer, he shall still persuade. 
 Not so to falsehoods have I lent my days, 
 As truth to hate, when sober truth is praise.
 
 58 THE ABJURATION [PART II. 
 
 What tho', long ignorant of love, my heart 
 May take some little time, to learn the art, 
 Like waves, that fix not, tho' the breeze be past, 
 But frolic still, as if they wish'd the blast, 
 I sure may learn, before the fatal hour, 
 Or wed, and love him, when I get the power. 
 Till then, if still my heart too warm may glow, 
 And with short flutter beat at every Beau, 
 One look of that grave eye will bid it cease, 
 And a few yawns soon lull it into peace. 
 O happy, when, by practice, I succeed, 
 And, without yawning, love in very deed ; 
 When, by his side, my daily round I walk. 
 His silence sweet, and sweeter still his talk, 
 Hear him, like nature's judge, expound her laws, 
 Meek with moralities, and sage with saws;
 
 f ART II.] OP COQUETRY. Sg 
 
 Or moralize 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 tracks for ever trod, 
 'Mid trees, unchang'd since last we wander'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, and 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.
 
 60 THE ABJURATIOX [PART II. 
 
 So shall 1 shine, what sage Sir John esteem'd, 
 Tlic 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, 
 With second triumph, in her thefts rejoice, 
 And think she forc'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 wanderings, and I flirt no more.
 
 I'AKT ir.] or COQUETRY. 6l 
 
 " 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 Gi-etna Green ; 
 Sooner shall man, who, in the marriage rite. 
 Boasts rule and lordtliip, be a husband quite, 
 And brides, who vow to honour and obey, 
 The oath remember, and renounce the sway ; 
 Each Opera-box at midnight prayer be seen, 
 And Sermons be, what Novels long have been ; 
 Even Fashion's fickle self to change forget 
 And turn a Quaker, ere I turn Coquette."
 
 THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 THE SOVEREIGN SPRITE OF COQUETRY
 
 Address to the Spirits tliat walcli over Wommi, aiiri record 
 liei %o\vs. Po'.tenls tluit marked tlie vow of Zephyra, 
 Descent of the TiUehiry Sprite of Coquetry. Melodies 
 that announce his approach. His appearance contrasted 
 witli tliat of Love. Comes at once to forgive and instruct 
 her. Traces to her the mode ljy wiiich he nursed her 
 early feelings to his sway. SiiL'iiCstions to her waking 
 fancy. And in her dreams at Nirjit. Predestiiiation of 
 Beauty to the passions that aw.ni her. All Womankind 
 divided as tiie future subjects of Coqnetiy or of Love. 
 Description of the humble Band allotted to Love. Nobler 
 diaracter of the Votaries of Coquetry.
 
 THE 
 
 SOVEREIGN SPRITE OF COQUETRY. 
 
 Ye watchful Sprites, who make even Man your care, 
 And sure more gladly hover o'er the Fair ; 
 Who grave on atlamant 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,
 
 68 THE SOVEREIGN SPRITE [pART III. 
 
 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! 
 Is summer's leaf the record ? Does it last, 
 Till withering autumn lilot it with his blast r 
 Or, frailer still, to fade ere ocean's ebb, 
 Gi'av'd on 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 r.i'schood in an angel's voice ! 
 True to one word, anil constant to one aim, 
 Let man's liard soul be stubborn ns his frame ; 
 But leave sweet Woman's form and mind, at v. ill 
 To bend, and vary, aiul be graccl'ul stiU I
 
 PART III.] OF COQUETRY. 69 
 
 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, 
 As 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 unsnuff'd taper brighter blaz'd.
 
 70 THE SOVEREIGN SPRITE [pART III. 
 
 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 sound, the Fair, with glad amaze, 
 Turn'd from her ottoman her languid gaze, 
 And saw strange transport thrilling thro' her 
 
 dread, 
 The heavenly form descending o'er her head, 
 Of less than infant shape ; yet there might scan 
 The first quick glance a mien of more than man :
 
 PART in.] OF COQUETRY. 71 
 
 Light as the fluttering freshness of the breeze, 
 Which the tir'd summer wanderer feels, not sees, 
 Yet fair to vision, as the hues all bi'ight, 
 That float o'er sinking suns, one heaven of light. 
 Beauteous as Love he seem'd ; but gayer grace 
 Laugh'd in his smile, and sparkled o'er his face 
 Like Love, when not of bliss he aims tlie dart, 
 But secret malice titters in his heart. 
 Loose beam'd his brow ; yet, tho' with bandag'd lid, 
 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.
 
 72 THE SOVEREIGN SPRITE [PART III. 
 
 Behind no quiver shook ; -no bowstring shone 
 With idle arrows, that can wound but one : 
 Each busy hand, to spread its triumphs wide, 
 Flash'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 : 
 Yet joy, not fear, the lightnings gleam'd askance, 
 Mild, as what sparkles from the living glance. 
 In mid descent he paqs'd. A soft perfume 
 Flow'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 
 Smil'd to his smile, scarce conscious of reply, 
 As when her upward gaze was wont to meet 
 Sonie earthly flatterer bending o'er her seat,
 
 PART III.] OF COQUETRYr 7S 
 
 His balmy strain as bland he pour'd above, 
 As every murmur were a sigh of love, 
 But hover'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 ! 
 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 control. 
 But, arrant tell-tales, spoke thy very soul ;
 
 74 THE SOVEREIGN SPRITE [PART III. 
 
 Ere thy first fib, that trembled in the act, 
 While 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, 
 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 scat. 
 And Puss and Pompey basking at their feet,
 
 PART HI.] OF COQUETUy. 75 
 
 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 fix'd thy ear, with tales of triumph past, 
 Of sworded Lovers, coy as maidens now. 
 That hid each glance, and trembled at a vow. 
 Of Belles, that blush'd to move along a crowd. 
 And Fops demure, that gravely stalk'd and bovv'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,
 
 76 THE SOVEREIGH SPRITE [PART III. 
 
 Crown'd the rude birth-day riot of his hall, 
 With all the solemn stiffness of a ball ; 
 When he, in flowing periwig 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. 
 New lace he sent, the pride of Mechlin's art. 
 And with the flowery nothing gave his heart. 
 Then when, half-proud, the matron deem'd thy ear 
 Intent the glories of that lace to hear, 
 With what inventive toil she fram'd the stuff, 
 How light the pinners, and liow thick the ruff;
 
 PART III.3 OF COQUETRY. 77 
 
 Alas ! thy fancy, heedless of her skill, 
 With squires and periwigs was dancing still. 
 
 " 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, nor sight, from dreams of power 
 Might lead thee lost, for many an idle hour, 
 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?
 
 78 THE SOVEREIGN SPRITE [pART III. 
 
 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 obey'd con- 
 trol. 
 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 impress'd, 
 And more than fancy throbb'd within thy breast.
 
 PART III.] OF COQUETRY. 79 
 
 If some gay brighter stripling woo'd, at times 
 When prose unmeaning, more unmeaning rhymes, 
 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 yawn'dst thou, waking, at the love-scrawl'd 
 
 strain ; 
 And the sad Ensign rhym'd and rav'd in vain.
 
 80 THE SOVEREIGN SPRITE [PART III, 
 
 " Smil'st thou ? Ah lovely 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 fiU'd the pause of day. 
 While sleep but multiplied a swifter throng, 
 And plumes, and smiles, and sword-knots, swept 
 along ? 
 ** 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, 
 When homage won, and fashion judg'd the meed ;
 
 PART III.] , OP COQUETRY. 81 
 
 If never billet, such as claims reply 
 
 From 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 ; 
 
 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 !
 
 82 THE SOVEREIGN SPRITE [pART HI. 
 
 " 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 his empire thankless fly, 
 Who, sure thy destin'd worship to retain, 
 Without thy heart the homage would disdain ? 
 
 " Know, that of all the legions of the Fair, 
 W^ho 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 fix'd 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.
 
 PART III.] OF COQUETRY. S3 
 
 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 soon half 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.
 
 S'k THE SOVEREIGN SPRITE [PART III. 
 
 " Whatever Beauty pines, or pants, or raves, 
 
 All the soft sex of sovereigns and of slaves. 
 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, unskill'd to vanquish and control, 
 Without ambition, scarcely have a soul. 
 Too weak, the varying charm thro' crowds to guide, 
 And, tho' 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,
 
 PART III.] OP COQUETRY. 85 
 
 Who, while then- single slave can fill their view, 
 Think one rude in numbers ! more than txvo ; 
 
 These Love unenvied won a cheerless train : 
 
 Bright rose the fated subjects of ?j/ 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, 
 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 IV. 
 
 THE CESTUS OF LEVITY.
 
 Influence of flattery in giving freedom to tlie tongue, Ze- 
 phyra, recovering from her awe, and restored to all the 
 graces of her native and habitual characler, coquets with 
 the very Power who presides over the delights of Coquet- 
 ry. Iniboldened by the praise of her charms, and eager 
 to know the extent of her predestined sway, she entreats 
 a glimpse of the future. Is checked by the Sprite, 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. To impress her fully willi the glorious privi- 
 leges of her fate, he prepares to favour her with a sight of 
 tlie Paradise, in whicii, after earthly coquetries have 
 ceased, the immortal coquette renews and continues 
 through immoitalily, the delights which she only began iu 
 the drawing-rooms and groves below. Gravitation of 
 Woman, which contiues 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 Sprite invests Zephyra with the Cestus. He ascends, 
 and Zephyra with him.
 
 THE 
 
 CESTUS OF LEPITY. 
 
 OTRANGE power of praise ! What sudden rapture 
 
 glow'd, 
 And loos'd the heart's soft bondage, as 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,
 
 g2 THE CESTUS |[PART IV. 
 
 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. 
 Heard all his tedious boasts with silence meet, 
 And, 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 splendor 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, 'Uot such as springs 
 When Beauty sweetly talks unmeaning things,
 
 PART IV.] OF LEVITY. 93 
 
 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, swear them 
 
 bright, 
 Too dim, to see whom next their power shall thrall, 
 Scarce know the slave they conquer, ere he fall. 
 Ah ! let thy pure celestial radiance teach 
 What orbs of earthly gleam ai-e weak to reach ! 
 Say, shall that ever-wedding simperer's arms 
 Seduce the proud apostate of my charms,
 
 94 THE CESTUS [pART IV. 
 
 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 ! smil'st 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 !" 
 " Yes ! let a thousand sigh ! Not vainly rise, 
 If sweet to one soft ear, a thousand sighs. 
 But O !" he whisper'd, " heedless of regret. 
 Ask not, what, heard, '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 fond uncertainties thy soul pursues.
 
 PART IV.3 OF LEVITY. 9^ 
 
 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 face, 
 Thy soul had seen each tender visit paid. 
 Rhymes yet unstol'n, and peijur'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 conquest, 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. 
 
 " Why for thy swain is Flavia still thy dread? 
 Even in thy mirror may thy fate be read.
 
 g6 THE CESTUS [PART IV. 
 
 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 Flavia's charms and wit. 
 And with that passing thought, a pang would steal, 
 Which, if not fear, was what the fearful feel. 
 
 With glance more quick than Love's all-conscious 
 eyes. 
 The pitying Sprite beheld that pang arise, 
 And skill'd in sounds, which saddest Beauty lists, 
 That sole sure solace, which no grief resists, 
 " Why thus on one," he cried, " thy wishes thrown ? 
 Flames the gay epaulet on one alone f
 
 PART IV.3 OF LEVITY. 97 
 
 Along the Park would no bright courser speed, 
 If the sad ring should miss one sluggish steed ? 
 Tho' mute a single tongue, shall all be still ? 
 Fades then ray 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 !
 
 98 THE CESTUS [PAUT IV. 
 
 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, 
 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 ! 
 
 " But 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.
 
 PART IV.] OF LEVITY. 99 
 
 Come to the bowers of joy ! Their air divine 
 Breathe and then murmur, that the home is thine ! 
 
 " 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 sit, 
 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.
 
 100 THE CESTUS [PART IV. 
 
 Come ! 'Tis the world of Earth's bright victors. See, 
 Who smil'd, and shone, and almost eharm'd like thee!" 
 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, 
 And give thro' airy worlds the fair to glide, 
 That only angel power at birth denied. 
 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. 
 1
 
 PART IV.] OF LEVITY. 101 
 
 If, thro' their distant spheres when planets pass, 
 To lifeless masses tend each lifeless mass, 
 What wonder, that, by charm as potent sway*d, 
 To living crowds should tend the living maid ? 
 That human bond she feels her soul enthrall, 
 Floats amid Routs, and centfes to the Ball. 
 But let the zone its buoyant power impart, 
 With gossamery lightness round her heart, 
 From earth she shakes her unencumber'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 sun-beams thro' the wilds of space,
 
 102 THE CESTUS [pART IV, 
 
 Light Essences, that mock all gross compare, 
 And look on Sylphs, as Sylphids on the fair, 
 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 
 From 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,
 
 PART IV.] OF LEVITY. l03 
 
 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, liv'd along the woof. 
 
 With sunny rays inwove, not 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.
 
 304 THE CESTUS [PART IV. 
 
 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 
 Smil'd, as he pointed to another bower ; 
 Norsmil'dunmark'd. But, though 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 farewell ;
 
 PART IV.] OF LEVITY. l05 
 
 Yet, as the clasp were his, and, sadly true, 
 Her voice but echoed his too quick adieu, 
 Even while she urged him lingering, still her eye 
 Seem'd fondly saying, " why so swift to fly ?" 
 Next, on the central tissue, had the Sprite 
 Group'd the full 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 
 Glow'd in the bower ; of aspect new the Youth. 
 The Marriage Power had fled: but, in his place, 
 A little winged Form, with sprightlier grace, 
 Trail'd 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.
 
 100 THE CESTUS [PART IV. 
 
 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'd 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 woe. 
 Afar, 'mid blazing tapers, o'er the dead 
 Its hundred plumes a pall funereal 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-clos'd 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.
 
 PART IV.] OF LEVITY. 107 
 
 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 two ! 
 
 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 shrine beneath, 
 
 'Mid hoods and scarfs, and all the sable art 
 
 Which heals with outward grief the inward heart, 
 
 The solemn silk, the crape of sadder power. 
 
 Dull weeds, that brighter shew sweet beauty's flower,
 
 108 THE CESTUS [pART IV. 
 
 There the same winged form again was seen, 
 In heavenly service to his mortal queen. 
 What folds would best a tender sorrow speak, 
 What shades to lovelier languor 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 pygmy Power had flung. 
 To scan its brighter grace. The folds, that bound 
 The front, half hid him, as they clos'd around : 
 Yet thro' them gleam'd his eyes, with laughing wile ; 
 And the clear mirror glisten'd with his smile. 
 
 So wove, so pictur'd, was the band that press'd 
 The softest tissue, on the softest breast. 
 
 " Come to thy future realm!" the Flutterer 
 breath'd, 
 As the light woof the wondering maid inwreathed.
 
 PART IV.] OF LEVITY. 109 
 
 " 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. 
 Come ! follow fearless, where thy Genius leads !" 
 She heard, and swift our world of sunshine 
 cross' d ; 
 And Earth perceived not, that its charm was lost !
 
 THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES. 
 
 PART V. 
 
 THE STAR OF PARADISE.
 
 By the aid of her Cestus, Zepliyra passes, with the rapidity 
 of a wish, through a region of inniimerable worlds, and 
 arrives at the Star of Paradise. The massy radiance, 
 wiiich, Hke a circle of sky, incloses tiie bowers of the 
 happy. Cave of entrance. Death and her band of Mala- 
 dies. 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 
 wortliy of admission into the bright world that awaits them. 
 Description of various forms of penance, proportioned to 
 the differences of guilt. Oblivion, and his goblet of for- 
 getfulness. Opening of the Cave. Paradise.
 
 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 charms, 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 behold 
 The hamlet's annals, ere a month have roU'd ;
 
 Il6 THE STAR [part V. 
 
 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 ! 
 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 splendor 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 fill'd, 
 Thro' all her frame a tender softness glows ; 
 She feels the charm, but knows not whence it flows.
 
 tART v.] OF PARADISE. 117 
 
 " Hail " cried the Sprite, as scarce 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'd her 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 ? 
 That form is Death." As sickly tremors start, 
 The sound flow'd shivering thro' the Maiden's heart. 
 No spectre gaunt she saw, of bones cntwin'd. 
 With scythe wide-brandish'd, as to sweep mankind. 
 m
 
 iX8 THE STAR [part V. 
 
 But a plump dame, of pamper'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 
 
 bloom. 
 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.
 
 PART v.] OF PARADISE. 119 
 
 No gaudy trinkets of a vain delight, 
 
 But toil-won trophies of her busy might ; 
 
 Proud, when each bosom, on some spousal day, 
 
 Even hers who blushed oft and weeps, is gay, 
 
 To cut the tie, that binds two gentle fates, 
 
 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. 
 
 Oft, Avith brief pause of carnage, when, to cease 
 The glutting joy, she deigns a moment's peace, 
 In haughty scorn of Earth, she seeks afar, 
 Sole-peopled by her power, this loveliest star ;
 
 120 THE STAR [PAKT V. 
 
 There thron'd beside the beamy cavern sits, 
 Proud, that whatever throngs the path admits, 
 And all within who revel, but avow 
 Her deadly might, that made them deathless now. 
 
 Couch'd at the dame's close 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 languor 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.
 
 PART v.] OF PARADISE. 121 
 
 One with foul blotches clouds the limpid face, 
 
 And delves a little grave for every grace. 
 
 Another, where the rose's blush 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. 
 
 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.
 
 122 THE STAR [part V. 
 
 " Shrink not" her guide quick whisper'd " calm 
 behold 
 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 pass'd. 
 
 As thro' the cavern's glittering vault they wound, 
 Burst, startling, on the Maid a well-known sound. 
 Now, as from distant chambers, now more near 
 Wide-spreading 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.
 
 PART v.] OF PARADISE. 123 
 
 A wondering look the Smiler 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 thee 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 halls are spread, 
 The purifying chambers of the dead. 
 To these, immortal, from the void abyss 
 They instant rise, not instant pass to bliss. 
 Each rebel thought review'd, whatever Fair, 
 Born like some native queen my sway to bear.
 
 124 THE STAR [part V. 
 
 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. 
 
 "Nor shortnor slightthesufferance, 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 hmbs.
 
 PART v.] OFPAUADISE. 125 
 
 Then, while she speeds to join the froHc troop, 
 With sudden durance round her swells a hoop ; 
 la 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 bursts 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 vievr's her mirror : but how starts her eye. 
 Strange wrinkles on her faded brow to spy ! 
 And ah her bloomless cheeks ! What demon's rage 
 Has chiU'd their blush, with sallow tints of age? 
 Cosmetic succour won, a vermeil hue 
 All soft she spreads ; and, lo ! the rouge is blue.
 
 126 THE STAR [part V. 
 
 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 all 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 stripp'd 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 woe.
 
 PART v.] OF PARADISE, 127 
 
 If, sick of bliss, some heart, in freakish gloom 
 Long rebel, have abjur'd its queenly doom, 
 In one dull chamber must the fair remain; 
 A single youth her solitary swain. 
 There, while on earth as many moons revolve, 
 As days were conscious of her I'ash 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 precepts, that 'tis vain to mourn. 
 Sidelong a tender glance is sent, and oft 
 Another steals, another yet more soft :
 
 128 THE STAR [part V. 
 
 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, 
 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.
 
 PART v.] OF PARADISE. 129 
 
 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,
 
 130 THE STAR [part V. 
 
 The radiant mass, as if the beam it felt, 
 Glows, but impassive stiJl denies to melt. 
 
 *' Dire lot! yet direr hers, whose single beau 
 At the first glance has soften'd in the glow ! 
 Tho' by one only swain were Beauty view'd. 
 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, wliich lulls to yawn, but not to sleep ; 
 The fondness of one wearying gaze to brook, 
 Which looks, that it has nothing more to look.
 
 PART v.] OF PARADISE. ISl 
 
 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. 
 Alas ! If sluggish fondness long obscure 
 The bright ambition of a soul once pure^
 
 132 THE STAR [part V. 
 
 Not by the simple griefs these vaults afford, 
 Is fair coquettish sanctity restor'd, 
 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 sta^; j 
 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 hear'st the horrors of that dreary world, 
 Not doom'd, with lonely vision, still to range 
 'Mid smiling pairs, and pairs that never change, 
 Earth's wives and virgin languishers, that glow 
 Self-punish'd with the flame they felt below,
 
 PART v.] OF PARADISE. 133 
 
 Content to find their simple mates above, 
 
 And yawn a dull eternity of love ! 
 
 " Soft is their sky ; and skilful eyes might gleam 
 
 A mildly-glistening sweetness, in its beam : 
 
 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 tliat vary with the light and shade. 
 
 On the slow walk, where arm in 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 many a 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 Ictter'd Bark, 
 n
 
 134 THE STAR [part V. 
 
 Would deem, some late-warm'd stripling carv'd the 
 
 name, 
 And breath*d, or heard first own'd, a secret flame. 
 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, to 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 ! 
 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 !
 
 i'ART v.] OF PARADISE. 135 
 
 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. 
 Retir'd, she feeds her venom's rankling store, 
 And loaths, and longs, and envying loaths the more : 
 Then, while in sullen gloom she sternly strays, 
 New forms of rapture float upon her gaze. 
 Meek pairs, that smile, caressing and caress'd ; 
 And all is pleasure save her maddening breast.''
 
 136 THE STAR [part V. 
 
 "Cease, cease, in mercy save me!" 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 ! 
 Leave those to tremble, who their hearts pollute 
 With vulgar fondness, at some triflcr's suit ! 
 Once thou hast 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 control 
 The iraag'd horrors nx'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 remaind, when soon would lie 
 All Paradise beneath her glowing eye.
 
 PART v.] OF PARADISE. 137 
 
 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, 
 Reveal'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. 
 Bright as the sunny rock from which it sprung. 
 Around, half qucnch'd, like fading twihght hung. 
 
 Near a dull fount, scarce creeping thro' th cave, 
 It stood, the Genius of the dismal wave.
 
 138 THE STAR f PART V. 
 
 No rill seem'd laughing o'er the rock to dance, 
 
 With mirth-inviting voice, and sparkling glance ; 
 
 No water trickled, all one bubbly swell 
 
 Of foam slow-heav'd, that rose, and burst, and fell. 
 
 Some, in a jetty goblet, like the fount 
 
 Still foam*d, and sank, 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, ha4f approach'd the Fair. 
 
 " Hold," cried her guide, " Oblivion's cup forbear ! 
 
 Who tastes forgets. From half-dried tears distill'd, 
 
 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 ; 
 1
 
 PART v.] OF PARADISE. 139 
 
 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. 
 
 Weep one lov'd husband, ere they wed the next. 
 
 Then warm with memory, now they lull, refin'd 
 
 To pure forgetfulness, 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 new immortal, in that bowl serene. 
 Ere Paradise receive another queen, 
 With gentle draught, each care terrestrial steeps ; 
 Her charms, and passions, all of earth she keeps. 
 But thou, still destin'd, mid thine earthly throng, 
 Those charms, those powers, those passions to prolong,
 
 140 THE STAR OF PARADISE. [PART V. 
 
 Bear with thee back, to scenes thy glance has sway'd, 
 Whate'er 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 lier ear what tender sounds arise. 
 Gay as kind titters, soft as yielding sighs ! 
 Now wider opes the rock ; now glides she thro' ; 
 And all is Paradise, that meets her view.
 
 Tiil'5 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES. 
 
 PART VI. 
 thp: bowers of paradise.
 
 Address to Woman. Her soul bettor fitted than tiiat of Man, 
 for conceiving the Paradise that is pictured to iicr. The 
 species of light whith tioats over the scene. The fiasrancc. 
 The air. The forms of the fair Immortals. Their vestments. 
 Their celestial worshippers. The general appearance of 
 the scene itself. Its lighter beauties. Its sub'.inier ob- 
 jects, that, in their very sublimity, still bear relation to 
 the beauty, for which alone they were formed. Its fleet- 
 ing changes, of natural aspect, and of the edifices that di- 
 versify it as they rise and fall. Tiie simpler bowers. 
 Seeming adaptation of them for a single lover, while they 
 permit and tavour the widest influence of Beauty. Bright- 
 er vision, which allows charms in Paradise to be seen at 
 every distance. The vocal whisperings of the foliage of 
 the ethereal bowers contrasted with the indistinct uiurmui 
 of earthly leaves. Peculiar reflection from the waters. 
 The charms of the scene itself almost lost in the more 
 powerful charm of the living throngs that cover it.
 
 THE 
 
 BOWERS OF PARADISE. 
 
 JriARD 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.
 
 146 THE BOWERS [PART VI. 
 
 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, swell'd the choral sound, 
 Till, as thy step the freshening verdure press'd, 
 Joy burst his slumber, and a world was blest ! 
 O Woman, ever gentle ! to thy ear 
 Sveeetbe the votive song, thou deign'st to hear! 
 
 So kindred all to bliss thy soul, thy sight, 
 With eyes that look, and thoughts that breathe, de- 
 light. 
 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,
 
 PART VI.] OF PARADISE. 147 
 
 Thy genius, kindling with the quick design, 
 Can spread the 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 : 
 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'd his life are o'er. 
 The grateful lover would their fate explore, 
 Half proud their heaven to trace, who, as they smil'd. 
 Made Paradise to him this earthly wild,
 
 14S THE BOWERS [pART VI. 
 
 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 
 Melt with faint image of the joy above. 
 
 Where Beauty, in her pomp of sweetness drest, 
 First beam'd a sudden transport on the breast, 
 Or, lovelier, where her eye kind warmth revcal'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 ?
 
 PART vr.] OF PARADISE. 149 
 
 O'er bower and dell a tender gladness plays, 
 Joy but to look, and luxury to gaze. 
 So sweet, so mildly thrilling, 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 swell,. 
 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 undistinguish'd sweets ; 
 Lost, in the full delight, what prouder flows 
 From clustering woodbine, and the flaunting rose. 
 o
 
 150 THE BOWERS [PART VI. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 .'
 
 PART VI.] OF PARADISE. l51 
 
 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, 
 With charm diffusive tempering, while combin'd, 
 Gay plans and triumphs of the busy mind, 
 And ever present, with delight unsought 
 To fill the little intervals of thought. 
 Quick, as her entering gaze of wonder, play'd 
 The ceaseless-flowing gladness round the maid, 
 Unheeded, 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 :.
 
 J 52 THE BOWERS [pART VI. 
 
 From matter pure, yet warm with living bloom, 
 Thin essence of a shade, without its gloom, 
 Bright shone the female charms. With quick com- 
 pare, 
 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, pleased to be excell'd. 
 On vulgar beauty if such power was thrown, 
 What lavish lustre would adorn her own, 
 Her own, still loveliest, that from heavenh'^ birth 
 Would rise transcendent, as it rul'd on earth ! 
 
 The robes, which those soft forms ethereal bound, 
 Ethereal tissues, glitter'd bright around, 
 Qf changeful tint and shape ; a wondering view 
 Scarce own'd the splendor, ere the splendor flew.
 
 PART VI.] OF PARADISE. 153 
 
 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. 
 
 If bright the Belles, to Zephyra's sage sight 
 The Beaux celestial seem'd a throng as bright. 
 Yet who, tho' skill'd in raptures, to divine 
 From love-warm'd eyes what brighter beams will 
 
 shine. 
 Of those bright eyes the radiance could foretell, 
 When looks adoring shone from Beau to Belle ? 
 Dear, even on earth, the suppliant glance to see, 
 When Man, the despot, is what Man should be, 
 Submits to Woman's smile his weak command. 
 Nor thinks of sceptres when she waves her hand ;
 
 154 THE BOWERS [pART VI, 
 
 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, and, 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 rapture than one soul could bear. 
 
 Like some charm'd light, whose every ray must bless, 
 
 O'erflow'd to 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. 
 
 Yes ! ye were there O hills, O mazy vales, 
 Woods, waters, all which Nature's wanderer hails,
 
 PART VI.] OF PARADISE. 155 
 
 Whate'er in Earth's wide glory gives to thrill 
 The pausing eye, but O hovr 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, appears 
 True as some well-known scene of other years, 
 Some shadowy softness, of diviner light, 
 Than earthly tints e'er flash '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 refm'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,
 
 156 THE.BOWERS [PART VI. 
 
 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. 
 
 Chief was the scene in gentler charms array 'd, 
 Lawns, where light groves but gleam'd a doubtful 
 
 sbadcy 
 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 ;
 
 PART VI.] OF PARADISE. 157 
 
 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 
 
 view'd 
 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's shade, the cataract's dread throne. 
 Tilt wild waste grandeur, form'd for these alone ;
 
 158 THE BOWERS [PART VI. 
 
 Where, like Night's tender beams, that loveliest glide 
 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 splendors 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, 
 Mix'd is the charm ; and in the varying ray. 
 The grandeur softens, and the soft seems gay.
 
 PART VI.] OF PARADISE. 159 
 
 Light as the crowds it circles, floats along 
 The spreading palace o'er the swelling throng : 
 Arch gleams on arch, where mead or thicket smil'd, 
 And spires, and pillars, shoot along the wild ; 
 As if, from many a realm of proudest name, 
 What gives each splendid city half its fame, 
 Tower, theatre, bright temple, gorgeous hall. 
 Swept by one magic hand, there mingled all. 
 Swift-fading 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,
 
 160 . THE BOWERS [PART VI. 
 
 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 gladdeners of this sublunary sphere ! 
 If, what our glowing hearts confess you near,
 
 PART VI.] OP PARADISE. I6l 
 
 Ye shone to distant vision, proud, on earth, 
 Were empire, paradise even mortal birth. 
 But ah ! tho' Wisdom quits his lore, to seek 
 The softer art, that wins to smiles the cheek, 
 Tho' courtly grandeur hastes to kneel, less vain 
 Of 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 ?
 
 162 THE BOWERS [PART VI. 
 
 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. 
 
 When Summer's cloudless sun ibrbids 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, 
 Thrill'd into words, as if they vvhisper'd love. 
 When o'er the grove a breeze of ether springs, 
 Fann'd to sweet flutter of harmonious things,
 
 PART Vr.] OF PARADISE. J 63 
 
 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 laughing valleys glide, 
 Or linger in the lake with slumbering tide. 
 To softest forms as pure a mirror bear ; 
 And many an image glows reflected there. 
 But, not like earthly rills, which pictur'd send 
 The dullest weeds that o'er their margin bend. 
 The heavenly waters, as in scorn to hold 
 One shape that lives not warm of rapture's mould,
 
 164 THE BOWKRS [PART VI. 
 
 Nor domes reflect, nor flower- wreath'd rock, i;ior.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 smiles it sheds. 
 The fair, reclining on the slope, where stand 
 In circling group a gaily duteous band, 
 Sees wider crowds, inverted, still 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.
 
 PART Vr.] OF PARADISE. l65 
 
 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, if living grace. 
 More dear, denied not, half the charm to trace. 
 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 givci 
 Felt, as if flowing from those charms that live. 
 P
 
 THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES. 
 
 PART VII. 
 
 THE JOYS AND GRACES OF PARADISE.
 
 Tlie joys, which Zephyia observes ii> Paradise, however vi- 
 vid and varied, still bear an affinity ta the occupations 
 and pleasures of earth ; the very charms and passions of 
 mortal Woman being themselves only a faint inspiration 
 of those which she is to display and foel, in the brighter 
 world that awaits her. Universal homage tlie delight of 
 Paradise, as it is the ambition of Earth. There, by the 
 aid of one potent illusion, each feels, as exclusively her 
 own, the worship that is paid to all. The worship enjoy- 
 ed, not with the dulness of certain possession, but with 
 that slight mixture of gentle doubt, which renders so de- 
 lightful on earth the first moments of conquest. The 
 pleasure heightened by slight occasional alarms, that are 
 dissipated almost as soon as they arise. Continual suc- 
 cession of adorers, and new aspects under which they ap- 
 pear. Comprehensiveness of memory, which gives, in a 
 single glance, the remembrance of all who have adored. 
 Rapid changes of scenery, magnificent or simple, and of 
 the very splendor or dimness of the light that flows 
 around, in instant accordance wilii tlie species of grace 
 or beauty wished to be displayed. Difficulty for a mor-
 
 tal to trace the delights of the scene, while she endeavours 
 to comprehend the whole multitude before her. Zephy- 
 ra therefore fixes ou a single fair, and watches her through 
 the display of her graces and triumphs. Music. Diffe- 
 rence of the dances of Paradise and Earth. Painting. 
 Coquetries of science. Disputation in heavenly pliysics. 
 Mode of adjudging the victory, Zephyra, with increas- 
 ing impatience and anger at her own invisibility, in tiie 
 midst of adoration of which she cannot partake, flies at last 
 from Paradise, not to return to it, till she ca-i herself be 
 seen. Number of feelings comprised in a few heavenly 
 moments, and shortness of the earthly time that has 
 elapsed during her absence. Disappearance of the Cestuf^, 
 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 must vanish from the lip, and fly 
 Love's thousand voices from the glistening eye. 
 Not mortal is the living lustre given, 
 That brightens every charm, with hues of heaven.
 
 l72 THE JOYS AND [PART VII. 
 
 Even now, instinctive prescience to thy miftn 
 Lends many a grace of triumphs yet unseen, 
 O'er all thy soul a future gladness showers. 
 And warms with passions of ethereal bowers. 
 Whate'er 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.
 
 PART VII.3 GRACES OF PARADISE. 173 
 
 And bless'd the fate, which fdrm'd thy heart below 
 With tender presage of that joy to glow ! 
 What if, till heaven's full transport flow'd possest, 
 No kindred wish had thrilled 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 ! 
 Yet, in each rapture, had the virgin caught 
 Some native joy, familiar to her thought, 
 In earthly bliss faint shadow'd, as when, bright 
 With floating step and bloom of airy light,
 
 174 THE JOYS AND [^PART VII, 
 
 Glides some young loveliness, each grace is drawn 
 Dim in the shade, that tracks her o'er the lawn. 
 More sweet the heavenly glance ; yet still above, 
 Beaux gaz'd on Belles, and gaz'd with looks of love. 
 
 " Think not," the hoverer said, while round her 
 pour'd 
 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 wish to fly ;
 
 PART VII.] GRACES OF PARADISE. 175 
 
 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 joys of all, 
 Thinks on herself those thousand glances thrown, 
 Reigns amid circling queens, yet reigns alone. 
 Who kneels afar, some gentle vow to pay, 
 With low-bent front, which gives no glance to stray. 
 As if his very distance 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 canvass, from the gorgeous frame. 
 The melting virgin, or the ardent dame, 
 Thatbloom'd, in charms which many arhyme records. 
 On mouldering kings, and long-forgotten lords,
 
 176 THE JOYS AND [PAET VH. 
 
 In pictur'd youth, immortal still, to wage 
 
 The gentle warfare of another age, 
 
 Beams on the sons of sons the 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' tlie long saloon, 
 
 And, even at parting, says he parts too soon. 
 
 " Can looks of potent wile in gold be set i 
 
 Is woman's very image a coquette ? 
 
 If dull dead oils, and duller varnish, gleam 
 
 O'er half a crowd that kind diffusive beam, 
 1
 
 PART VII.] GRACES OF PARADISE* 177 
 
 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 !" 
 
 ** O lovelier still in all I see and hear. 
 Even by that doubt, that question, still more dear ! 
 Well may thy very laugh, he cried, have caught 
 A yawn-like horror from that frightful thought. 
 No hope to light, no fears to fan a flame ! 
 All slaves, and slaves without one struggle tame?
 
 178 THE JOYS AND [PART VII. 
 
 So fondly dismal if these bowers could be, 
 Not Paradise itself were Earth for thee. 
 But trust the Power, who views each secret swell, 
 To temper bliss for hearts he knows so well ! 
 Still in the 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 the charm partakes When fears 
 
 are past, 
 And the long-frozen bosom melts at last, 
 While love's first eloquence, with warmth devout, 
 Reveals those tender truths, 'twere sin to doubt. 
 Thou sure hast felt, soft-Hngering in the pride, 
 That dares not fear, yet scarcely dares confide, 
 Thro' all the bliss a momentary thrill 
 Of half-uncertain wishes tremble still.
 
 PART Vir.] GRACES OF PARADISE. 179 
 
 Too sweet for frail mortality, on earth 
 Brief is the charm, half perishing at birth : 
 Here lives it, lasting ; each adoring hour 
 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, 
 
 " So when serene the noontide radiance glows 
 On some calm bank, which rocks and woods inclose. 
 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.
 
 180 THE JOYS AND [PART VII. 
 
 Half bold, half trembling, her last vesture thrown, 
 Safe from all view, yt 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 locks glistening o'er her neck of light. 
 With what sweet glow, the renovating beam 
 Repays the shivering chilness of the stream ! 
 Life owns, in every pulse, the freshening power ; 
 And one short shudder warms thro' many an hour. 
 
 " Such is that shivering fear, when lovers fly ; 
 Such that best 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.
 
 PART VII.] GRACES OF PARADISE. 181 
 
 " Nor only doubt's short thrillings I employ, 
 To save the rapture from a sluggish joy : 
 With charm more si^re, 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 sigher 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. 
 Unchang'd in homage, still one theme prolong 
 The ever-shifting ever- constant throng. 
 
 " Yet vain the widening triumph's changeful glow, 
 V^ain all the thousand shapes of every Beau, 
 
 9.
 
 182 THE JOYS AND [PART VII. 
 
 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 tlie list. 
 
 Here, brighter, ampler, the capacious power, 
 
 Still widening 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, 
 1
 
 PART VII.] GRACES OF PARADISE. 183 
 
 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 resign 
 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 1" she cried, " while 
 sparkles bright 
 On lips and laughing eyes the flowing light, 
 O say ! what darkness, 'raid the glittering air, 
 Flings short soft twilight on that single fair ? 
 And see ! now high in rapid splendor rais'd, 
 Now sinking, as to mock the eye that gaz'd.
 
 184 THE JOYS AND [PART VII. 
 
 What dazzling piles oft gleam and vanish ? Tell 
 The potent witchery, monarch of the spell !" 
 
 " Queea 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 ! 
 What 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.
 
 PART VII.] GRACES OF PARADISE. 185 
 
 " 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, 
 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.
 
 186" THE JOYS AND [PART VII. 
 
 " The shade, which, mid the splendor 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 gleam'd 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 woe, 
 Or from the forehead lift a sprightly wreath, 
 And ope the cheek of smiles, which laughs beneath ;
 
 PART VII.] GRACES OF PARADISE. 187 
 
 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. 
 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,
 
 188 THE JOYS AND [PART VII. 
 
 And as her bliss the varying charms prolong, 
 
 See, in those changeful charms, the imag'd 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 last. 
 Spring glisten'd on her tomb. Now, see her shine ! 
 Know'st thou that grace, long second but to thine ? 
 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,
 
 PART VII.] GRACES OF PARADISE. 189 
 
 The busy eVe, that deck'd them for the ball, 
 
 Tlie 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.
 
 190 THE JOYS AND [pART VlT. 
 
 " Now," said the Sprite, " wefl-skilfd in mottal 
 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 dqll'd thee, mid the gathering throng. 
 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,
 
 T- VII.] GRACES OF PARADISE. 191 
 
 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 woe. 
 Scarce seem'd a sound the murmur, all that took 
 The melting soul, a motion, or a look. 
 
 She ceas'd ; and, as she slowly gave to view 
 That glance, still softer from the notes she drew.
 
 192 THE JOYS AND [PART VII. 
 
 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 1 
 
 But see ! the harp is vanish'd like the strain. 
 The worshippers and Goddess sole remain. 
 Sole ! No, around her seem'd the group to swell ; 
 And gay to many a beau laugh'd many a belle. 
 From flower-twin'd columns, stretch'd in light ex- 
 panse. 
 An arch of flowers o'ercanopied the dance ; 
 Not as in joyless earthly balls, that pair 
 Down the long line one partner to the fair, 
 Till free she smile, relcas'd, of mazes sped 
 Less weary far, than of the hand that led :
 
 PART VII.] GRACES OF PARADISE. 193 
 
 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 O ! how griev'd I part ! 
 
 Ceas'd now the dance. Of all 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. 
 INIore bright, than Beauty's brightest draught divine, 
 Her living form, who gave those tints to shine,
 
 19* THE JOYS AKD [^PART VII. 
 
 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 1 
 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. 
 
 So shines the mortal belle, so, spotless reigns, 
 Mid oils, and ochres, and a thousand stains,
 
 PART VII.3 GRACES OF PARADISE. 1^5 
 
 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,
 
 196 THE JOYS AND [PART VII. 
 
 Gave other features ; and, those features shewn, 
 How smil'd the artist, as she knew her own ! 
 
 She smil'd ; but Zephyra no smile partook. 
 " What ! must I view," she cried, " each rapturous 
 
 look, 
 See crowds of flatterers, all their follies hear, 
 And not one bosom own that / am near ! 
 Bear 1 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 swell'd ; 
 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 :
 
 PART VII.] GRACES OP PARADISE. 197 
 
 While every mien a studious air refin'd 
 Attun'd to grave coquetries of the mind. 
 Thro' the full throng no spreading titter broke : 
 Belles 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, 
 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:
 
 198 THE JOYS AND [PART VII. 
 
 So, even in Paradise, to thought serene 
 Oft calms the sprightly nymph her laughing mien, 
 Inquires, pronounces, doubts, with 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.
 
 PART VII.] GRACES OF PARADISE. 199 
 
 Such now the themes, which critic beaux engag'd ; 
 While belle with belle the rival question wag'd, 
 Wise but to charm the wise, ^his praise their claim, 
 But the fond umpire's self their nobler aim. 
 
 Fir'd by that double meed of love's applause, 
 They sought of wondrous things 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.
 
 200 THE JOYS AND [PART VII. 
 
 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 remain'd, to crown 
 The victress sage, the plaudit of renown. 
 No single shout a single fair confessed, 
 Which, joy to one, were grief to all the rest ; 
 With happier art, the name she felt excel 
 By every beau was breath'd to every belie. 
 Soft was it whisper'd; but, so sweet the fame. 
 The gathering glory seem'd a loud acclaim.
 
 PART VII.] GRACES OF PARADISE. 201 
 
 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 youth 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' 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,
 
 202 THE JOYS AND [PART VII, 
 
 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 ! 
 And shall / then an idle gazer stand, 
 As if to number all her simpering band ! 
 No ! let dull rivals sum each flirt's amount ! 
 Mine be the triumphs, which I deign to count i 
 Yes ! by this cestus, whose ethereal fold 
 Shall bear me back, to eyes that can behold, 
 I too have charms ; and, 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.
 
 PART VII.] GRACES OF PARABISE. 203 
 
 These bowers shall know me, and who haughtiest 
 
 shine 
 Shall fade, and sicken, at one smile of mine !" 
 
 Half sad, half ireful, from the throng she turn'd ; 
 Yet, tho' within contending passions burn'd, 
 Not, even in tumult of those mix'd alarms. 
 Forgetful of her gratitude and charms. 
 Mild to the Guardian, as if loath she went, 
 A parting look of loveliest thanks she sent. 
 He smil'd, consenting, where the cavern lay 
 Hung o'er her step, and cheer'd the winding 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 farewell, 
 More looks than sounds, in parting blessings fell. 
 
 " Pursue thy wish," he cried, " nor fear to roam 1 
 Safe, as my care, that wish shall wing thee home.
 
 204 THE JOYS AND [PART VH. 
 
 Go, and till Fate, that doom'd thy mortal scene, 
 Shall give to Paradise its loveliest queen, 
 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 tliro' dull Routs, like vision'd Rapture, glide, 
 Sighs in thy train, fond whispers at thy side ! 
 Yet ! 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 ?
 
 PART VII.] GRACES OF PARADISE, 205 
 
 '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, 
 Gay Susan, summon'd by the tinkling call. 
 While sad to Frank she flings the half-won trick, 
 Slow rising, wonders at a call so quick. 
 
 But thou, best charm restor'd ! what thoughts 
 possess'd 
 With memory's wild confusion all thy breast ? 
 In vain, as busy with her tongue as hand, 
 New flattering themes the sage disrober 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, witli gentlest touch, herself unwound,
 
 206 THE JOYS AND [PART VII. 
 
 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. 
 Now thro' mid-air the rapid cestus bore ; 
 Now Earth seem'd Paradise, then Earth once 
 more,
 
 PART VII.J GRACES OF PARADISE. 207 
 
 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 life, if earth beheld it gleam. 
 Her waking heart had realiz'd the dream. 
 Bright throngs were met, and near her, tam'd in 
 
 pride, 
 A penitent and slave, the Colonel sigh'd, 
 'Twas joy, 'till lo ! with wrinkled cheek of gloom, 
 Morocco's dusky Envoy cross'd the room. 
 "What transport then, to win, whom seventy wives 
 Own'd lord of all their fondness, and their lives ! 
 Dull the wish'd voice, that once, with truant tone, 
 Seem'd, as if Love's whole faithless sex had flown:
 
 208 THE JOYS, &e. [part VII. 
 
 Laughs, whispers, smiles, how vain ! No charm 
 
 appear'd, 
 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, 
 Sooth'd the quick pulse, that throbb'd thro' every 
 
 limb. 
 And lenient nurs'd, for renovated sway, 
 The charms and triumphs of the coming day.
 
 THE 
 
 PARADISE OF COQUETTES. 
 
 PART VIIL 
 
 THE PRAISE OF COQUETRY
 
 Address to tlie future inhabitants of the Paradise, not to dis- 
 dain the triumphs of mortal coquetry, in their contempla- 
 tion of the joys that await them. Transition to the praise 
 of the Power, whose empire they are to spread on earth. 
 His bounty in repairing the frugality of Nature, in her 
 dbtribulion of the sexes, influence in civilizing the 
 world, and in still continuing to soothe the angry pas- 
 sions of the civilized. The desire of pleasing considered 
 in its important relations to labour and commercial inter- 
 course. Picture of tlie weakness and misery, which would 
 be produced in a State, by the extinction of this one pas- 
 sion. Hence the public glory of coquetry, as the source 
 of tlie wealth and power of nations, all the functions of 
 whose government, depending on that financial prosperi- 
 ty which flows from her infliit nc^^, may be considered as 
 indirectly exercised by Beauty herself. Conclusion. 
 Parting prayer to be remembered.
 
 THE 
 
 PRAISE OF COQUETRY. 
 
 C/LOs'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 ! 
 s
 
 214 THB PRAISE [part VIII. 
 
 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. 
 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.
 
 PART VIII.] OF COQUETRY. 215 
 
 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 alh 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, 
 Not heedless are her glances taught to stray ; 
 In march to reign, she conquers by the way: 
 Light steps, and choral triumphs, half-foreseen, 
 Play round her heart, and brighten all her mien.
 
 216 THE PRAISE [part VIII. 
 
 And ye, to happy 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 ! 
 Even now, in kindling 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 Coc[uetry ! 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 blaze, 
 Due hymns let Beauty's choral priesthood raise ! 
 Oft as another hecatomb shall fall, 
 A hundred loiterers, victims of the ball.
 
 PART VIII.] OF COQUETRY. 217 
 
 Then, duteous, let the dame or virgin bring 
 Her votive offering for the conquer'd ring, 
 With fragrant essences thy shrine bedew, 
 And love's warm tribute on the altar strew, 
 With hundred billets load the pile, and keep 
 A flaming niadrigal to fire the heap ! 
 
 Joy of thy busy world, who leav'st no woe, 
 No languor, but sweet languors meant for show ! 
 Without thee, what were man, condemn'd to prize 
 The scanty sunshine of a pair of eyes ! 
 Her number'd 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 !
 
 2J8 THE PRAISE [part VIII. 
 
 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 sadlier paced the wood. 
 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 rapture-spreading 
 wile, [smile ; 
 
 Glance laugh'd to glance, and smile was caught by
 
 PART VIII.] OP COQUETRY. 219 
 
 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 ! 
 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, broad-spreading to the sun 
 The wealth, which free and fearless hands have won ;
 
 220 THE PRAISE [part VIH. 
 
 Arts, sprung from wealth, that deck the fostering 
 
 power, 
 As, borne on stems and foliage, smiles the flower, 
 These gentle blessings if some kindred ray 
 DifFus'd, what influence gentle as thy sway ? 
 
 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, 
 Hordes, 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:
 
 PART Vtir.] OF COQUETRY. 221 
 
 Rude graces call each brightening power to aid ; 
 And wild coquetries civilize 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, 
 And spreads a sweet serenity of charms ; 
 Kind sunny beamings play, where shades had hung. 
 And laughs, and whispers, float around the tongue. 
 
 How oft has 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 !
 
 222 THE PRAISE [part VIII. 
 
 Her nymphs, presageful, view : each trembling eat 
 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 i 
 Thine is the suasive whisper, thine to balm 
 The inward sting, the outward tempest calm.
 
 PART VIII.] OF COQUETRY. 223 
 
 In that worst tumult, when, all mingling high, 
 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 
 Of last 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 far 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,
 
 224 THE PRAISE [part VIII. 
 
 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 vanquish'd, but a gift to thee : 
 From elemental wars he gathers bright 
 The gentle armour of a kinder fight, 
 The spoil profuse around thy champions pours, 
 And gives the glittering toilet all its stores. 
 Do wandering curls a guardian pin demand. 
 Or the loose mantle ask a clasping band ? 
 He bids the far-cleft rocks their gems display 
 They know his mighty footstep, and obey.
 
 PART VIII.] OF COQUETRY. 225 
 
 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, 
 Pids melting colours mingle, and supplies 
 The robe and riband with their changeful dies. 
 With nature's varied splendor 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,
 
 226 THE PRAISE [PARTVlir. 
 
 Spreads the new pomp to Beauty's eager arms, 
 
 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, raid fogs that hide the day, 
 
 And warring ice-rocks, wandering for their prey, 
 
 On shores where shivering Summer treads with haste, 
 
 While Winter howling redemands his waste. 
 
 Even there he finds, tho' savage terrors lour, 
 
 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 snow. 
 
 Where the moor'd vessel waits the gatber'd bale,. 
 
 Or far at ocean struggles with the gale, 
 1
 
 I'ART VIII.] OF COQUETRY. 22? 
 
 The' 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, 
 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 deep the victor of the surge,
 
 228 THE PRAISE [part VIII* 
 
 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 slacken'd 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 it fir'd. 
 Tho' rude the desert clime, to hands that toil 
 Some bounty Nature deigns, on every soil ; 
 Not life alone, she deigns, that life to grace. 
 Some decorative gifts to every race :
 
 PART VIII.] OF COQUETRY. 229 
 
 The varied gifts to varied labours call ; 
 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 van ties what treasures swell ! 
 Unthinking patriots every fop and belle ; 
 And not a heart is won, or conquest plann'd, 
 But gleams a brighter splendor 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.
 
 230 THE PRAISE [part VIII. 
 
 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. 
 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 turn'd her wheel of other days, 
 Or, at her cottage door, when evening breath'd 
 Sweet fragrance, from the shrub her hands had 
 wreath'd,
 
 PART VIII. 3 OF COQUETRY. 231 
 
 And Summer, stpiling 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 caroU'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,
 
 232 THE PRAISE [part VIII, 
 
 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 lavish meed, to names of haughtiest sound ; 
 
 She pdurs the primal wealth: and charmswhich pay 
 
 The haughty ruler, well may boast 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, 
 1
 
 PART VIII.] OF COQUETRY. 2S3 
 
 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 lovers yield, 
 Makes navies fly, and armies (j[uit the field. 
 
 The theme is clos'd : yet, dreading to retire, 
 My hand, still lingering, wanders o'er 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 !
 
 234 THE PRAISE OF COQUETRY. [PART VIII. 
 
 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 ! 
 
 Printed by George Ramsay & Co. 
 Edinburgh, 1817.
 
 Recently Published, 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR, 
 
 THE BOWER OF SPRING, and other Poems. 
 Price 7s. boards. 
 
 Irately Published, 
 
 (SECOND EDITION,) 
 
 THE WANDERER IN NORWAY, 
 
 WITH OTHER POEMS. 
 
 By THOMAS BROWN, M. D. 
 
 PROFESSOR OF MORAL PHILOSOPHY IX THE 
 UNIVERSITY OF EDINBURGH. 
 
 AND 
 (SECOND EDITION,) 
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR, 
 
 THE WAR-FIEND, 
 
 WITH OrHh,R POEMS.
 
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