LXVIII. The Sabbath comes, a day of blessed rest : Hark! heard you not the forest-monarch's roar? LXIX. The seventh day this; the jubilee of man. London! right well thou know'st the day of prayer Then thy spruce citizen, wash'd artisan, And smug apprentice gulp their weekly air: Thy coach of Hackney, whiskey, one-horse chair, And humblest gig through sundry suburbs whirl; To Hampstead, Brentford, Harrow make repair; Till the tired jade the wheel forgets to hurl, Provoking envious gibe from each pedestrian churl. LXX. Some o'er thy Thamis row the ribbon'd fair, Some Richmond-hill ascend, some scud to Ware, And many to the steep of Highgate hie. Ask ye, Boeotian shades! the reason why ?56 "Tis to the worship of the solemn Horn, Grasp'd in the holy hand of Mystery, In whose dread name both men and maids are sworn, And consecrate the oath with draught, and dance till morn.57 LXXI. All have their fooleries-not alike are thine, Much is the VIRGIN teased to shrive them free From crimes as numerous as her beadsmen be; Then to the crowded circus forth they fare: Young, old, high, low, at once the same diversion share. LXXII. The lists are oped, the spacious area clear'd, Yet ever well inclined to heal the wound; None through their cold disdain are doom'd to die, As moon-struck bards complain, by Love's sad archery. LXXIII. Hush'd is the din of tongues-on gallant steeds, With milk-white crest, gold spur, and light-poised lance, Four cavaliers prepare for venturous deeds, And lowly bending to the lists advance; Rich are their scarfs, their chargers featly prance : And all that kings or chiefs e'er gain their toils repay. LXXIV. In costly sheen and gaudy cloak array'd, The lord of lowing herds; but not before The ground, with cautious tread, is traversed o'er, Lest aught unseen should lurk to thwart his speed: His arms a dart, he fights aloof, nor more Can man achieve without the friendly steedAlas! too oft condemn'd for him to bear and bleed. LXXV. Thrice sounds the clarion; lo! the signal falls, The den expands, and Expectation mute Gapes round the silent circle's peopled walls. Bounds with one lashing spring the mighty brute, And, wildly staring, spurns, with sounding foot, The sand, nor blindly rushes on his foe: Here, there, he points his threatening front, to suit His first attack, wide waving to and fro His angry tail; red rolls his eye's dilated glow. LXXVI. Sudden he stops; his eye is fix'd: away, 58 The skill that yet may check his mad career. With well-timed croupe the nimble coursers veer; On foams the bull, but not unscathed he goes; Streams from his flank the crimson torrent clear: He flies, he wheels, distracted with his throes ; Dart follows dart; lance, lance; loud bellowings speak his woes. LXXVII. Again he comes; nor dart nor lance avail, Nor the wild plunging of the tortured horse; Though man and man's avenging arms assail, Vain are his weapons, vainer is his force. One gallant steed is stretch'd a mangled corse ; Another, hideous sight! unseam'd appears, His gory chest unveils life's panting source; Though death-struck, still his feeble frame he rears ; Staggering, but stemming all, his lord unharm'd he bears. LXXVIII. Foil'd, bleeding, breathless, furious to the last, And now the Matadores around him play, Shake the red cloak, and poise the ready brand : Once more through all he bursts his thundering way— Vain rage! the mantle quits the conynge hand, Wraps his fierce eye-'tis past—he sinks upon the sand!59 LXXIX. Where his vast neck just mingles with the spine, The corse is piled-sweet sight for vulgar eyes-60 Four steeds that spurn the rein, as swift as shy, Hurl the dark bulk along, scarce seen in dashing by. |