22 So cunning was the apparatus,
The powerful
pothooks did so move him,
That will-he, nill-he,
to the great house
He went
as if the devil drove him.
23 Yet on his way (no sign of grace,
For folks
in fear are apt to pray)
To Phoebus he preferr’d
his case,
And begg’d
his aid that dreadful day.
24 The godhead would have back’d
his quarrel:
But with
a blush, on recollection,
Own’d that his
quiver and his laurel
’Gainst
four such eyes were no protection.
25 The court was set, the culprit there;
Forth from
their gloomy mansions creeping,
The Lady Janes and Joans
repair,
And from
the gallery stand peeping:
26 Such as in silence of the night
Come sweep
along some winding entry,
(Styack[3] has often
seen the sight)
Or at the
chapel-door stand sentry;
27 In peaked hoods and mantles tarnish’d,
Sour visages
enough to scare ye,
High dames of honour
once that garnish’d
The drawing-room
of fierce Queen Mary!
28 The peeress comes: the audience
stare,
And doff
their hats with due submission;
She curtsies, as she
takes her chair,
To all the
people of condition.
29 The Bard with many an artless fib
Had in imagination
fenced him,
Disproved the arguments
of Squib,[4]
And all
that Grooms[5] could urge against him.
30 But soon his rhetoric forsook him,
When he
the solemn hall had seen;
A sudden fit of ague
shook him;
He stood
as mute as poor Maclean.[6]
31 Yet something he was heard to mutter,
How in the
park, beneath an old tree,
(Without design to hurt
the butter,
Or any malice
to the poultry,)
32 He once or twice had penn’d a
sonnet,
Yet hoped
that he might save his bacon;
Numbers would give their
oaths upon it,
He ne’er
was for a conjuror taken.
33 The ghostly prudes, with hagged[7]
face,
Already
had condemn’d the sinner:
My Lady rose, and with
a grace—
She smiled,
and bid him come to dinner,
34 ’Jesu-Maria! Madam Bridget,
Why, what
can the Viscountess mean?’
Cried the square hoods,
in woeful fidget;
’The
times are alter’d quite and clean!
35 ’Decorum’s turn’d
to mere civility!
Her air
and all her manners show it:
Commend me to her affability!
Speak to
a commoner and poet!’
[Here 500 stanzas are lost.]
36 And so God save our noble king,
And guard
us from long-winded lubbers,
That to eternity would
sing,
And keep
my lady from her rubbers.
[Footnote 1: ‘Pile of building:’ the mansion-house at Stoke-Pogeis, then in the possession of Viscountess Cobham. The style of building which we now call Queen Elizabeth’s, is here admirably described, both with regard to its beauties and defects; and the third and fourth stanzas delineate the fantastic manners of her time with equal truth and humour. The house formerly belonged to the Earls of Huntingdon and the family of Hatton.]