Agreed. A rich old uncle dies, And added wealth the means supplies. With eager haste to town they flew, Where all must please, for all was new.
But here, by strict poetic laws, Description claims its proper pause.
The rosy morn had raised her head From old Tithonus' saffron bed; And embryo sunbeams from the east, Half-choked, were struggling through the mist, When forth advanced the gilded chaise; The village crowded round to gaze. The pert postilion, now promoted From driving plough, and neatly booted, His jacket, cap, and baldric on, (As greater folks than he have done,) Looked round; and, with a coxcomb air, Smacked loud his lash. The happy pair Bowed graceful, from a separate door, And Jenny, from the stool before.
Roll swift, ye wheels! to willing eyes New objects every moment rise. Each carriage passing on the road, From the broad waggon's ponderous load To the light car, where mounted high The giddy driver seems to fly, Were themes for harmless satire fit, And gave fresh force to Jenny's wit. Whate'er occurred, 'twas all delightful, No noise was harsh, no danger frightful. The dash and splash through thick and thin, The hairbreadth 'scapes, the bustling inn, (Where well-bred landlords were so ready To welcome in the 'squire and lady,) Dirt, dust, and sun, they bore with ease, Determined to be pleased, and please.
Now nearer town, and all agog, They know dear London by its fog. Bridges they cross, through lanes they wind, Leave Hounslow's dangerous heath behind, Through Brentford win a passage free By roaring, 'Wilkes and Liberty!' At Knightsbridge bless the shortening way, Where Bays's troops in ambush lay, O'er Piccadilly's pavement glide, With palaces to grace its side, Till Bond Street with its lamps a-blaze Concludes the journey of three days.
Why should we paint, in tedious song, How every day, and all day long, They drove at first with curious haste Through Lud's vast town; or, as they passed 'Midst risings, fallings, and repairs Of streets on streets, and squares on squares, Describe how strong their wonder grew At buildings--and at builders too?
Scarce less astonishment arose At architects more fair than those-- Who built as high, as widely spread The enormous loads that clothed their head. For British dames new follies love, And, if they can't invent, improve. Some with erect pagodas vie, Some nod, like Pisa's tower, awry, Medusa's snakes, with Pallas' crest, Convolved, contorted, and compressed; With intermingling trees, and flowers, And corn, and grass, and shepherd's bowers, Stage above stage the turrets run, Like pendent groves of Babylon, Till nodding from the topmost wall Otranto's plumes envelop all! Whilst the black ewes, who owned the hair, Feed harmless on, in pastures fair, Unconscious that their tails perfume, In scented curls, the drawing-room.