PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

VOLUME 98


FEBRUARY 15, 1890.


[Pg 73]

UNTILED; OR, THE MODERN ASMODEUS.

"Très volontiers," repartit le démon. "Vous aimez les tableauxchangeans: je veux vous contenter."

Le Diable Boiteux.

Cartoon




XX.

Sweet odours, radiant colours, glittering light!

How swift a change from the dusk sodden night

Of London in mid-winter!

Titania here might revel as at home;

Fair forms are floating soft as Paphian foam,

Bright as an iceberg-splinter.

Dianas doubtless, yet their frost holds fire;

The snowiest bosom covers soft desire,

And these are snowy, verily.

As blanched—and bare—as Himalaya's peaks,

Light-vestured as a troop of dancing Greeks.

Waltz-measures ripple merrily.

Merrily? Yes; the music throbs with mirth,

Feet trip in time to it; yet what strange dearth

Of glee midst all these graces!

The quickening fire of spirit, passion, will,

Seems scarce to move these dancing forms or thrill

These irresponsive faces.

The Shadow smiled. "True, yet not true," he said.

"Good Form demands that men should look half dead,

And women semi-frozen.

Yet Nature lives beneath these modish masks

Somewhere, sometimes, with energy that tasks

Caste's rigid rule to cozen.

"Pygmalion's prayer breathed life into the stone,

But see yon graceful girl, with straitened zone

And statuesque still bearing.

You'd say in her the marble must invade

The flesh, in so much loveliness arrayed,

Such radiant raiment wearing.

"Whirled in the waltz's formal maze by one

Who might be a broad-cloth'd automaton,

For any show of pleasure,

She moves with drooping lids, and lips apart,

And scarce a flush to show that a young heart

Throbs to the pulsing measure."

"Men meet to moon, and women whirl to wed,

The cynic says. Is joy in life quite dead,

Gladness in concourse banished

From the parades of fashionable youth?

Have maiden tenderness and manly truth

From Vanity Fair quite vanished?"

"Soft!" sneered the Shadow. "Questionings like these

Sound gauche and gushing. Better far to freeze

To the right social zero,

Than stoop to zeal and frank display of zest,

Notes of the vulgar glories that invest

The housemaid-novel's hero.

"Nothing more useful than the surface-ice

Of stiff

...

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