Alive, thee foe thy dreadful vigor fled, And saw thee fall with joy-pronouncing eyes; STANZAS.* Weeping, murmuring, complaining, Fears th' approaching bridal night. Yet why impair thy bright perfection? THE GIFT. TO IRIS, IN BOW-STREET, COVENT-GARDEN. Imitated from the French.t Say, cruel Iris, pretty rake, Dear mercenary beauty, [First printed in " The Bee," 1759.] [First printed in "The Bee," 1759. The original is in Ménagiana, tom. iv. p. 200: ÉTRENNE À IRIS. "Pour témoignage de ma flamme, Iris, du meilleur de mon âme, Je vous donne à ce nouvel an, What annual offering shall I make My heart, a victim to thine eyes, Say, would the angry fair one prize A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy, I'll give but not the full-blown rose, I'll give thee something yet unpaid, Non pas essence, non pas pommade, Quoi donc attendez, je vou donne, Le point si souvent proposé, Je vous donne.-Ah! le puis-je dire? Patience va m'échapper, Fussiez-vous cent fois plus aimable, Belle Iris, je vous donne-au diable."] 131 AN ELEGY ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX, MRS. MARY BLAIZE. Good people all, with one accord, The needy seldom pass'd her door, She strove the neighborhood to please, Unless when she was sinning. [These lines were first printed in "The Bee," 1759. Mr. Croker observes, in a communication to the editor:-" The elegy on Madam Blaize, and the better part of that on the Death of a Mad Dog, are closely imitated from a well-known French string of absurdities called 'La Chanson du fameux la Galisse; one of many versions of which you will find in the Ménagiana, vol. iii. p. 29. I shall select two or three stanzas as examples: "Messieurs, vous plait-il d'ouir L'air du fameux la Galisse, Il pourra vous rejouir, Pourvu qu'il vous divertisse. On dit que dans ses amours, Il fut caressé des belles, Qui le suivirent toujours, Tant qu'il marche devant elles. Il fut par un triste sort, Blessé d'une main cruelle; At church, in silks and satins new, Her love was sought, I do aver But now her wealth and finery fled, The doctors found, when she was dead, Her last disorder mortal. Let us lament, in sorrow sore, For Kent-street well may say, That had she liv'd a twelvemonth more, She had not died to-day. DESCRIPTION OF AN AUTHOR'S BED-CHAMBER.* Where the Red Lion staring o'er the way, Invites each passing stranger that can pay; Where Calvert's butt, and Parson's black champagne, [First printed, in 1760, in "The Citizen of the World." See vol. ii. p. 127. On this subject Goldsmith had projected an heroi-comic poem, as appears by one of his letters to his brother (see Life, ch. viii.); and with a few variations it forms the description of the alehouse in the "Deserted Village." See p. 73 of the present volume.] There, in a lonely room, from bailiffs snug, The rusty grate unconscious of a fire: With beer and milk arrears the frieze was scor'd,† A cap by night-a stocking all the day! * [Viz. 1. "Urge no healths; 2. Profane no divine ordinances; 3. Touch no state matters; 4. Reveal no secrets; 5. Pick no quarrels; 6. Make no comparisons; 7. Maintain no i opinions; 8. Keep no bad company; 9. Encourage no vice; 10. Make no long meals; 11. Repeat no grievances; 12. Lay no wagers."] ["And now imagine, after his soliloquy, the landlord to make his appearance, in order to dun him for the reckoning: "Not with that face, so servile and so gay, With sulky eye he smoaked the patient man, Then pulled his breeches tight, and thus began," &c. All this is taken, you see, from nature. It is a good remark of Montaigne's, that the wisest men often have friends, with whom they do not care how much they play the fool. Take my present follies as instances of regard. Poetry is a much easier, and more agreeable species of composition than prose, and could a man live by it, it were not unpleasant employment to be a poet." -Letter to his Brother. See Life, ch. viii.] |