HER was also a Noune, a Prioresse,
That of hire smylyng was ful symple and coy;
Hire grettest ooth nas but by seynt Loy;
And sche was cleped Madame Eglentyne.
Ful wel sche sang the servisë divyne,
Entuned in hire nose ful semëly;
And Frensch she spak ful faire and fetysly,
After the scole of Stratford attë Bowe,
For Frensch of Parys was to hire unknowe.
At metë wel i-taught was sche withalle,
Sche leet no morsel from her lippës falle,
Ne wette hire fyngres in hire saucë deepe.
Wel cowde sche carie a morsel and wel keepe,
That no dropë ne fille upon hire breste.
In curteisie was set ful moche hire leste.
Hire over lippe wypede sche so clene,
That in hire cuppë was no ferthing sene
Of grecë, whan sche dronken hadde hire draughte.
Ful semëly after hir mete sche raughte,
And sikerly sche was of gret disport,
And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port,
And peynede hir to countrefetë cheere
Of Court, and ben estatlich of manere,
And to ben holden digne of reverance.
But for to speken of hir conscience,
Sche was so charitable and so pitous,
Sche wolde weepe if that sche saw a mous
Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.
Of smalë houndës hadde sche, that sche fedde
With rosted flessh and mylk and wastel breed.
But sore weep sche if oon of hem were deed,
Or if men smot it, with a yerdë smerte ;
And al was conscience and tendre herte.
Ful semely hire wympel i-pynched was ;
Hir nosë streight, her eyën greye as glas ;
Hir mouth ful smal, and thereto softe and reed,
But sikerly sche hadde a fair forheed.
It was almost a spannë brood, I trowe;
For hardily sche was not undergrowe.
Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war.
Of small coral aboute hir arm sche bar
A peire of bedës gauded al with grene;
And thereon heng a broch of gold ful schene,
On which was first i-writen a crowned A,
And after, Amor vincit omnia.
TELLA this day is thirty-four,
(We shan't dispute a year or more :)
However, Stella, be not troubled,
Although thy size and years are doubled
Since first I saw thee at sixteen,
The brightest virgin on the green;
So little is thy form declined;
Made up so largely in thy mind.
O, would it please the gods to split
Thy beauty, size, and years, and wit!
No age could furnish out a pair
Of nymphs so graceful, wise and fair;
With half the lustre of your eyes,
With half your wit, your years, and size.
And then, before it grew too late,
How should I beg of gentle fate,
(That either nymph might have her swain,)
To split my worship too in twain.
HIS day, dear Bec, is thy nativity;
Had Fate a luckier one, she'd give it ye.
She chose a thread of greatest length,
And doubly twisted it for strength :
Nor will be able with her shears
To cut it off these forty years.
Then who says care will kill a cat?
Rebecca shews they're out in that.
For she, though overrun with care,
Continues healthy, fat, and fair.
As, if the gout should seize the head,
Doctors pronounce the patient dead;
But, if they can, by all their arts,
Eject it to the extremest parts,
They give the sick man joy, and praise
The gout that will prolong his days.
Rebecca thus I gladly greet,
Who drives her cares to hands and feet:
For, though philosophers maintain
The limbs are guided by the brain,
Quite contrary Rebecca's led ;
Her hands and feet conduct her head;
By arbitrary power convey her,
She ne'er considers why or where :
Her hands may meddle, feet may wander,
Her head is but a mere by-stander :
And all her bustling but supplies
The part of wholesome exercise.
Thus nature has resolved to pay her
The cat's nine lives, and eke the care.
Long may she live, and help her friends
Whene'er it suits her private ends ;
Domestic business never mind
Till coffee has her stomach lined;
But, when her breakfast gives her courage
Then think on Stella's chicken porridge :
I mean when Tiger1 has been served,
Or else poor Stella may be starved.
May Bec have many an evening nap,
With Tiger slabbering in her lap ;
But always take a special care
She does not overset the chair;
1 Mrs. Dingley's favourite lap-dog,
Still be she curious, never hearken
To any speech but Tiger's barking!
And when she's in another scene,
Stella long dead, but first the Dean,
May fortune and her coffee get her
Companions that will please her better !
Whole afternoons will sit beside her,
Nor for neglects or blunders chide her.
A goodly set as can be found
Of hearty gossips prating round;
Fresh from a wedding or a christening,
To teach her ears the art of listening,
And please her more to hear them tattle,
Than the Dean storm, or Stella rattle.
Late be her death, one gentle nod,
When Hermes, waiting with his rod,
Shall to Elysian fields invite her,
Where there will be no cares to fright her!
NOT with more glories, in th' ethereal plain,
The sun first rises o'er the purpled main,
Than, issuing forth, the rival of his brains
Launch'd on the bosom of the silver Thames.
Fair nymphs, and well-dressed youths around her shone,
But every eye was fix'd on her alone.
On her white breast a sparkling cross she wore,
Which Jews might kiss, and infidels adore.
Her lively looks a sprightly mind disclose,
Quick as her eyes, and as unfix'd as those :
Favours to none, to all she smiles extends;
Oft she rejects, but never once offends.
|