To you, ye matrons, ever on the watch
To mar a son's, or make a daughter's match;
To you, ye children of whom chance accords-
Always the ladies, and sometimes their lords;
To you, ye single gentlemen, who seek
Torments for life, or pleasures for a week;
As Love or Hymen your endeavours guide,
To gain your own, or snatch another's bride;—
To one and all the lovely stranger came,
And every ball-room echoes with her name.
Endearing Waltz! to thy more melting tune
Bow Irish jig and ancient rigadoon.
Scotch reels, avaunt! and country dance forego
Your future claims to each fantastic toe!
Waltz, Waltz alone, both legs and arms demands,
Liberal of feet, and lavish of her hands;
Hands which may freely range in public sight
Where ne'er before-but-pray "put out the light".
Methinks the glare of yonder chandelier
Shines much too far, or I am much too near;
And true, though strange, Waltz whispers this remark,
"My slippery steps are safest in the dark!"
But here the Muse with due decorum halts,
And lends her longest petticoat to Waltz.
Observant travellers of every time!
Ye quartos publish'd upon every clime!
Oh, say, shall dull Romaika's heavy round,
Fandango's wriggle, or Bolero's bound;
Can Egypt's Almas-tantalizing group-
Columbia's caperers to the warlike whoop-
Can aught from cold Kamschatka to Cape Horn
With Waltz compare, or after Waltz be borne?
Ah, no! from Morier's pages down to Galt's,
Each tourist pens a paragraph for "Waltz".
Shades of those belles whose reign began of yore,
With George the Third's-and ended long before!—
Though in your daughters' daughters yet you thrive,
Burst from your lead, and be yourselves alive!
Back to the ball-room speed your spectred host;
Fools' Paradise is dull to that you lost.
No treacherous powder bids conjecture quake;
No stiff-starch'd stays make meddling fingers ache
(Transferr'd to those ambiguous things that ape
Goats in their visage, women in their shape):
No damsel faints when rather closely press'd,
But more caressing seems when most caress'd;
Superfluous hartshorn and reviving salts;
Both banished, by the sovereign cordial, "Waltz".
Seductive Waltz!-though on thy native shore
Even Werter's self proclaim'd thee half a whore:
Werter to decent vice though much inclined,
Yet warm, not wanton; dazzled, but not blind-
Though gentle Genlis, in her strife with Staël,
Would even proscribe thee from a Paris ball;
The fashion hails-from countesses to queens,
And maids and valets waltz behind the scenes;
Wide and more wide thy witching circle spreads,
And turns-if nothing else—at least our heads;
With thee even clumsy cits attempt to bounce,
And cockneys practise what they can't pronounce.
Gods! how the glorious theme my strain exalts,
And rhyme finds partner rhyme in praise of "Waltz !"
Blest was the time Waltz chose for her début:
The court, the Regent, like herself, were new,
New face for friends, for foes some new rewards;
New ornaments for black and royal guards;
New laws to hang the rogues that roar'd for bread;
New coins (most new) to follow those that fled;
New victories-nor can we prize them less,
Though Jenky wonders at his own success;
New wars, because the old succeed so well,
That most survivors envy those who fell;
New mistresses-no, old-and yet 't is true,
Though they be old, the thing is something new;
Each new, quite new-(except some ancient tricks),
New white-sticks, gold-sticks, broom-sticks, all new sticks!
With vests or ribbons, deck'd alike in hue,
New troopers strut, new turncoats blush in blue;
what say you?
Such was the time when Waltz might best maintain
Her new preferments in this novel reign;
Such was the time, nor ever yet was such:
Hoops are no more, and petticoats not much:
Morals and minuets, virtue and her stays,
And tell-tale powder-all have had their days.
The ball begins-the honours of the house
First duly done by daughter or by spouse,
Some potentate-or royal or serene—
With Kent's gay grace, or sapient Glo'ster's mien,
Leads forth the ready dame, whose rising flush
Might once have been mistaken for a blush,
From where the garb just leaves the bosom free,
That spot where hearts were once supposed to be;
Round all the confines of the yielded waist,
The stranger's hand may wander undisplaced;
The lady's in return may grasp as much
As princely paunches offer to her touch.
Pleased round the chalky floor how well they trip,
One hand reposing on the royal hip:
The other to the shoulder no less royal
Ascending with affection truly loyal!
Thus front to front the partners move or stand,
The foot may rest, but none withdraw the hand;
And all in turn may follow in their rank,
The Earl of Asterisk-and Lady-Blank;
Sir-Such-a-one-with those of fashion's host,
For whose blest surnames-vide Morning Post
(Or if for that impartial print too late,
Search Doctors' Commons six months from my date)-
Thus all and each, in movement swift or slow,
The genial contact gently undergo;
Till some might marvel, with the modest Turk,
If "nothing follows all this palming work".
True, honest Mirza!-you may trust my rhyme-
Something does follow at a fitter time;
The breast thus publicly resign'd to man
In private may resist him-if it can.
O ye who loved our grandmothers of yore,
Fitzpatrick, Sheridan, and many more!
And thou, my prince! whose sovereign taste and will
It is to love the lovely beldames still!
Thou ghost of Queensbury! whose judging sprite
Satan may spare to peep a single night,
Pronounce if ever in your days of bliss
Asmodeus struck so bright a stroke as this;
To teach the young ideas how to rise,
Flush in the cheek, and languish in the eyes;
Rush to the heart, and lighten through the frame,
With half-told wish and ill-dissembled flame;
For prurient nature still will storm the breast-
Who, tempted thus, can answer for the rest?
But ye, who never felt a single thought,
For what our morals are to be, or ought;
Who wisely wish the charms you view to reap,
Say-would you make those beauties quite so cheap?
Hot from the hands promiscuously applied,
Round the slight waist, or down the glowing side,
Where were the rapture then to clasp the form
From this lewd grasp and lawless contact warm?
At once love's most endearing thought resign,
To press the hand so press'd by none but thine;
To gaze upon that eye which never met
Another's ardent look without regret;
Approach the lip which all, without restraint,
Come near enough-if not to touch-to taint;
If such thou lovest-love her then no more,
Or give-like her-caresses to a score;
Her mind with these is gone, and with it go
The little left behind it to bestow.
Voluptuous Waltz! and dare I thus blaspheme? The bard forgot thy praises were his theme. Terpsichore, forgive!-at every ball
My wife now waltzes-and my daughters shall;
My son (or stop-'t is needless to inquire-
These little accidents should ne'er transpire;
Some ages hence our genealogic tree
Will wear as green a bough for him as me)—
Waltzing shall rear, to make our name amends,
Grandsons for me-in heirs to all his friends.
LX. "THE DEDICATION" IN DON JUAN.
Southey as Poet Laureate was a favourite target for satirical quips and cranks on the part of Byron. This "Dedication was not published
until after the author's death.
BOB SOUTHEY! You're a poet-Poet-laureate,
And representative of all the race;
Although 't is true that you turn'd out a Tory
Last-yours has lately been a common case—
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