THE theme my verse unfolds, ye Bridgetown Fair,
Is one which late has claimed your constant care,
Tis one so dear to Woman’s wayward mind,
That even the Drama finds its joys resign’d;
The long loved cards must now neglected wait,
Till fashion gives once more the smile of fate,
The bright Assembly now is Beauty’s court,
To which all Ages , either sex resort;
Where social pleasure holds unrivall’d sway,
Where all is brilliant, airy, light and gay.
Ye Powers of Dance! who o’er the Ball preside,
Be present here, my Muse’s steps to guide!
And thou, Terpsichore! my lays inspire,
While with a trembling hand, I touch the lyre!
With anxious hope, and heart with joy elate,
The expecting fair one views the approaching fete;
The long anticipated night is come,
When, sick or well, the female flies from home.
If, in the morn , the head was rack’d with pain,
When evening smiles, the fair is well again.
With joyous eyes she views the Sun descend,
For then the empire of the day must end,
And happy nights auspicious reign commence,
To fill soft woman’s heart with joy intense.
Before the powers of Dress , she first must bend,
Invoking Venus every charm to lend,
Then, robed at length, in fashion’s bright costume,
She hails the splendours of the Assembly room.
There, while the lights in bright profusion shine,
Obsequious Beaux attend on Beauty’s shrine;
And, while they pay their homage to the Fair,
In conscious glory, own their winning air.
How mix’d and varied is the motley scene!
The old and wise, the gay and young between,
Fops, Beauties, Coxcombs, Men of worth and sense,
Some to receive , and some to give offence.
Some, who say nothing , in a laboured speech,
And vainly strive some stroke of wit to reach;
Some, with a long parade of tedious stuff,
Who never think that they have said enough;
Some, with the gallant’s flatt’ring address,
Extolling charms the object may possess;
Alike to him , if she be fair or not,
He speaks his praise, believing she is caught;
While list’ning woman laughs within, to see
The flattering Youth in self conceited glee.
But here! Clarissa comes, in native grace,
With charms unborrow’d, and attractive face;
Bright on her Cheek the rose of Nature strays,
A gay good humour on her features plays;
While, in the dance with airy step she moves,
All must admire , for Envy e’en approves.
Tho’ flattery’s darts assail her youthful ear,
Th’ insipid stuff she hardly deigns to hear;
Smiles at the nonsence of the cringing Youth,
Nor vainly thinks that all he says is Truth.
And, while attendant Beaux around her throng,
In unaffected grace she glides along.
There Julia smiles in beauty’s favorite train,
Doomed like Clarissa to a flattering strain.
From the clear mirror of her hazel eye,
A thousand magic loves and graces fly;
A thousand winning charms in radiance move,
Like those we fancy in the Queen of Love.
And there are hearts which own their potent sway,
Who court her smiles, and bask in Beauty’s ray.
Look round the gay Assembly’s sportive sphere,
And ask of some , if Julia’s smile be dear.
And they will say, if Beauty ever warm’d
The soul of Man, then Julia sure has charm’d.
In glittering hues, amid the festive scene,
The officer’s gay military vest is seen,
With eager eyes he seeks his favorite maid,
Whispers his praise, and by her hand is paid.
And, when the gay repast at midnight hour
Bids the light muse of Dancing cease her power,
The Youths and Maidens tir’d and faint repair;
To seek another joy, another care.
In full attendance round a sparkling throng,
Of bowing Beaux, the favorite Belles among.
And when some pretty nothings , borrowed wit,
Show that they hold poor women Babies yet,
When all their stock of compliment is o’er,
To the bright Ball-room they repair once more.
But, when the morning dawns with feeble streak,
And fainter far , than Woman’s heated cheek,
When bright Aurora bids them quit the Dome,
And slowly they prepare for quiet Home,
How many murmurs fill the dusky air,
How many sighs to quit a place so dear !
The half-extinguished lights in paleness burn,
And the soft music dying, says “return.”
Then with regret, at friends and Parent’s call.
They bid a Month’s adieu to Mason’s Hall.
(Mary Abel Clinckett)
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Based on Topics: Love Poems, Man Poems, Night Poems, Light Poems, Mind Poems, Death & Dying Poems, Soul Poems, Nature Poems, Faces Poems, Joy & Excitement Poems, Youth PoemsBased on Keywords: ball-room, anticipated, coxcombs, unborrow, terpsichore, half-extinguished, clarissa, extolling, bridgetown