The Works of Lord Byron Volume VI Part 110

Lx.x.xVII.

There was d.i.c.k Dubious,[690] the metaphysician, Who loved philosophy and a good dinner; Angle, the _soi-disant_ mathematician; Sir Henry Silvercup, the great race-winner.

There was the Reverend Rodomont Precisian, Who did not hate so much the sin as sinner: And Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet, Good at all things, but better at a bet.

Lx.x.xVIII.

There was Jack Jargon, the gigantic guardsman;[691]

And General Fireface,[692] famous in the field, A great tactician, and no less a swordsman, Who ate, last war, more Yankees than he killed.

There was the waggish Welsh Judge, Jefferies Hardsman, In his grave office so completely skilled, That when a culprit came for condemnation, He had his Judge's joke for consolation.[693]

Lx.x.xIX.

Good company's a chess-board--there are kings, Queens, bishops, knights, rooks, p.a.w.ns; the World's a game; Save that the puppets pull at their own strings, Methinks gay Punch hath something of the same.

My Muse, the b.u.t.terfly hath but her wings, Not stings, and flits through ether without aim, Alighting rarely:--were she but a hornet, Perhaps there might be vices which would mourn it.

XC.

I had forgotten--but must not forget-- An orator, the latest of the session, Who had delivered well a very set Smooth speech, his first and maidenly transgression Upon debate: the papers echoed yet With his _debut_, which made a strong impression, And ranked with what is every day displayed-- "The best first speech that ever yet was made."

XCI.

Proud of his "Hear hims!" proud, too, of his vote, And lost virginity of oratory, Proud of his learning (just enough to quote), He revelled in his Ciceronian glory: With memory excellent to get by rote, With wit to hatch a pun or tell a story, Graced with some merit, and with more effrontery,[mq]

"His country's pride," he came down to the country.

XCII.

There also were two wits by acclamation, Longbow from Ireland,[694] Strongbow from the Tweed[695]--Both lawyers and both men of education-- But Strongbow's wit was of more polished breed; Longbow was rich in an imagination As beautiful and bounding as a steed, But sometimes stumbling over a potato,-- While Strongbow's best things might have come from Cato.

XCIII.

Strongbow was like a new-tuned harpsichord; But Longbow wild as an aeolian harp, With which the Winds of heaven can claim accord, And make a music, whether flat or sharp.

Of Strongbow's talk you would not change a word: At Longbow's phrases you might sometimes carp: Both wits--one born so, and the other bred-- This by his heart--his rival by his head.

XCIV.

If all these seem an heterogeneous ma.s.s To be a.s.sembled at a country seat, Yet think, a specimen of every cla.s.s Is better than a humdrum tete-a-tete.

The days of Comedy are gone, alas!

When Congreve's fool could vie with Moliere's _bete_: Society is smoothed to that excess, That manners hardly differ more than dress.

XCV.

Our ridicules are kept in the back-ground-- Ridiculous enough, but also dull; Professions, too, are no more to be found Professional; and there is nought to cull[mr]

Of Folly's fruit; for though your fools abound, They're barren, and not worth the pains to pull.

Society is now one polished horde, Formed of two mighty tribes, the _Bores_ and _Bored_.

XCVI.

But from being farmers, we turn gleaners, gleaning The scanty but right-well threshed ears of Truth; And, gentle reader! when you gather meaning, You may be Boaz, and I--modest Ruth.

Further I'd quote, but Scripture intervening Forbids. A great impression in my youth Was made by Mrs. Adams, where she cries, "That Scriptures out of church are blasphemies."[696]

XCVII.

But what we can we glean in this vile age[ms]

Of chaff, although our gleanings be not grist.

I must not quite omit the talking sage, Kit-Cat, the famous Conversationist,[697]

Who, in his common-place book, had a page Prepared each morn for evenings. "List, oh list!"

"Alas, poor ghost!"[698]--What unexpected woes Await those who have studied their _bons-mots!_

XCVIII.

Firstly, they must allure the conversation, By many windings to their clever clinch; And secondly, must let slip no occasion, Nor _bate_ (abate) their hearers of an _inch_,[mt]

But take an ell--and make a great sensation, If possible; and thirdly, never flinch When some smart talker puts them to the test, But seize the last word, which no doubt's the best.

XCIX.

Lord Henry and his lady were the hosts; The party we have touched on were the guests.

Their table was a board to tempt even ghosts To pa.s.s the Styx for more substantial feasts.

I will not dwell upon _ragouts_ or roasts, Albeit all human history attests That happiness for Man--the hungry sinner!-- Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner.

C.

Witness the lands which "flowed with milk and honey,"

Held out unto the hungry Israelites: To this we have added since, the love of money, The only sort of pleasure which requites.

Youth fades, and leaves our days no longer sunny; We tire of mistresses and parasites; But oh, ambrosial cash! Ah! who would lose thee?

When we no more can use, or even abuse thee!

CI.

The gentlemen got up betimes to shoot, Or hunt: the young, because they liked the sport-- The first thing boys like after play and fruit; The middle-aged, to make the day more short; For _ennui_[699] is a growth of English root, Though nameless in our language:--we retort The fact for words, and let the French translate That awful yawn which sleep can not abate.

CII.

The elderly walked through the library, And tumbled books, or criticised the pictures, Or sauntered through the gardens piteously, And made upon the hot-house several strictures, Or rode a nag which trotted not too high, Or on the morning papers read their lectures, Or on the watch their longing eyes would fix, Longing at sixty for the hour of six.

CIII.

But none were _gene_: the great hour of union Was rung by dinner's knell; till then all were Masters of their own time--or in communion, Or solitary, as they chose to bear The hours, which how to pa.s.s is but to few known.

Each rose up at his own, and had to spare What time he chose for dress, and broke his fast When, where, and how he chose for that repast.

CIV.

The ladies--some rouged, some a little pale-- Met the morn as they might. If fine, they rode, Or walked; if foul, they read, or told a tale, Sung, or rehea.r.s.ed the last dance from abroad; Discussed the fashion which might next prevail, And settled bonnets by the newest code, Or crammed twelve sheets into one little letter, To make each correspondent a new debtor.

CV.

For some had absent lovers, all had friends; The earth has nothing like a she epistle, And hardly Heaven--because it never ends-- I love the mystery of a female missal, Which, like a creed, ne'er says all it intends, But full of cunning as Ulysses' whistle,[mu]

When he allured poor Dolon:[700]--you had better Take care what you reply to such a letter.

CVI.