Classic Poem

Come exert yourself, Clio , I pray;
Such a theme sure was never before;
But acquit yourself well of the lay,
And I never will pester you more.

Tho' no verse can with justice describe
The sweet Beauties which Bath now may boast,
Yet I wish — must I speak it aside —
You'd descant on each favourite toast.

I'd not have you to beauty of face,
To manners or form be confin'd;
But display ev'ry charm, ev'ry grace,
And each excellence too of the mind.

Tho' the beauty that's maiden, 'tis true,
Stands most commonly foremost in fame;
Yet give that to each wife which is due,
— Wou'd their husbands but practise the same!

Now my fair ones, you've nothing to fear,
No ill-natur'd satirical style;
When the Graces with beauty appear,
Envy can't but look pleasant the while.

When the elegant Jennings appears,
What a buz through the room do they raise,
Tho' her beauty's the subject she hears,
Not one scrap of conceit she betrays.

What eyes! and what lips! and what hair!
Such a mouth too! what pleasure to kiss!
When I look, I can scarcely forbear
Rushing on to such heavenly bliss.

I'd pronounce him a snarling poor wight,
Void of taste too in ev'ry degree,
Who would dare, my sweet girl, for to write
Or e'en speak with detraction of thee.

Mark the graceful fine figure of Moore ,
Who with ease and gentility moves;
Her eyes are delightful, that's sure —
They must rapture whomever she loves.

When Calder too trips down the dance,
All croud the sweet maid to observe;
She's distinguish'd by great complaisance,
Good sense, and a prudent reserve.

For your life don't the Seymours forget,
Who so rival each other all day,
That you'd not decide, should you bet,
The most lively, good-humour'd, and gay.

Remark too the dimpling sweet smile,
Lady Marg'ret's fair countenance wears;
And Lady Ann , whom so beauteous we style,
As quite free of affected fine airs.

Gentle Nappier deserves to be nam'd:
She's cautious — yet pleasing withal:
And Drax too must ever be fam'd —
As a wife she's a pattern to all.

Pretty Cheshire you must not pass o'er,
Who's so joyous and arch in her look:
You might mention at least fifty more,
But your ballad would swell to a book.

How my Clio you now will rejoice!
For I'm come to your favourite name;
And our Waller 's as sweet in her voice,
As your bard of poetical fame.

We can boast of one other beside,
Who's a mistress of harmony too;
She's well-temper'd, and void of all pride;
The whole family's equally so.

'Twould be wrong, and one could not excuse,
If your song was not happily grac'd
With Matthews 's name; whom my Muse
Deserves with the first to be plac'd:

She's agreeable, courteous, and kind;
Loves good-humour I'm sure to her heart;
And so blest with an amiable mind,
She can't fail every bliss to impart.

Both the sisters for sense too we prize;
With the Sharps , their conversable friends;
Milly , faith, has most excellent eyes,
Which speaks more than, perhaps, she intends.

Give smart-looking fair Hankle a verse;
She's always neat dress'd, and well bred;
And remember soft-speaking Miss Nourse ,
Who must look quite delicious in bed.

The last I shall name to you now,
Is a beauty that all must admire;
She's just to a tittle, I vow,
The thing one would wish and desire.

Her comedy-looking sweet face
Spreads a joy round wherever she goes;
And vivacity chose it her place
For to dwell with good-natur'd repose:

Affability marks her address,
She with cheerfulness ever appears;
And Pauncefort — we all must confess,
Wou'd rouse passion, tho' bury'd in years.