A TALE.
109 lines✦
ecluded from domestic strife,Jack Bookworm led a college life;A fellowship at twenty-fiveMade him the happiest man alive:He drank his glass and crack'd his joke,And freshmen wonder'd as he spoke.Such pleasures, unalloy'd with care,Could any accident impair?Could Cupid's shaft at length transfixOur swain, arrived at thirty-six?Oh, had the Archer ne'er come downTo ravage in a country town!Or Flavia been content to stopAt triumphs in a Fleet-street shop!Oh, had her eyes forgot to blaze!Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze!Oh!——But let exclamations cease:Her presence banish'd all his peace.So with decorum all things carried,Miss frown'd, and blush'd, and then—wasmarried.Need we expose to vulgar sightThe raptures of the bridal night?Need we intrude on hallow'd ground,Or draw the curtains closed around?Let it suffice that each had charms;He clasp'd a goddess in his arms;And though she felt his usage rough,Yet in a man 'twas well enough.The honey-moon like lightning flew;The second brought its transports too;A third, a fourth, were not amiss;The fifth was friendship mix'd with bliss:But, when a twelvemonth pass'd away,Jack found his goddess made of clay;Found half the charms that deck'd her faceArose from powder, shreds, or lace;But still the worst remain'd behind,—That very face had robb'd her mind.Skill'd in no other arts was sheBut dressing, patching, repartee;And, just as humour rose or fell,By turns a slattern or a belle.'Tis true she dress'd with modern grace,—Half-naked at a ball or race;But when at home, at board or bed,Five greasy nightcaps wrapp'd her head.Could so much beauty condescendTo be a dull domestic friend?Could any curtain lectures bringTo decency so fine a thing?In short, by night, 'twas fits or fretting;By day, 'twas gadding or coquetting.Fond to be seen, she kept a bevyOf powder'd coxcombs at her levy;The squire and captain took their stations,And twenty other near relations:Jack suck'd his pipe, and often brokeA sigh in suffocating smoke;While all their hours were pass'd betweenInsulting repartee and spleen.Thus, as her faults each day were known,He thinks her features coarser grown;He fancies every vice she showsOr thins her lip, or points her nose:Whenever rage or envy rise,How wide her mouth, how wild her eyes!He knows not how, but so it is,Her face is grown a knowing phiz;And, though her fops are wondrous civil,He thinks her ugly as the devil.Now, to perplex the ravell'd noose,As each a different way pursues,While sullen or loquacious strifePromised to hold them on for life,That dire disease, whose ruthless powerWithers the beauty's transient flower,—Lo! the small-pox, with horrid glare,Levell'd its terrors at the fair;And, rifling every youthful grace,Left but the remnant of a face.The glass, grown hateful to her sight,Reflected now a perfect fright;Each former art she vainly triesTo bring back lustre to her eyes;In vain she tries her paste and creamsTo smooth her skin, or hide its seams;Her country beaux and city cousins,Lovers no more, flew off by dozens;The squire himself was seen to yield,And ev'n the captain quit the field. [Illustration: "_By turns a slattern or a belle._"—_p._ 232.] Poor madam, now condemn'd to hackThe rest of life with anxious Jack,Perceiving others fairly flown,Attempted pleasing him alone.Jack soon was dazzled to beholdHer present face surpass the old:With modesty her cheeks are dyed;Humility displaces pride;For tawdry finery is seenA person ever neatly clean;No more presuming on her sway,She learns good-nature every day;Serenely gay, and strict in duty,Jack finds his wife a perfect beauty. * * * * *
✦