LADY BETTY GERMAINE’S BEDROOM AT KNOLE
DUCK HUNTING
Hard by where Knole’s exalted towers rise
Upon a green smooth plain a pond there lies,
With verdant grass encircled round, a place
Seated commodiously the duck to chase.
Here in the heat of day the youths for sport
With well-taught spaniels to the pond resort.
The youths on ev’ry side the pond surround,
With fav’ring cries the hollow woods resound.
The eager dogs with barking rend the skies
Until encouraged by their masters’ cries
They plunge into the stream: the stream before ’em flies.
Rover, the first that plung’d, the first in fame
And one from Charles’s noble breed that came.
The next came Trip, tho’ of a bastard race,
And smaller size, he swam the next in place.
The last came Ranger, with his spotted back,
That swam but slow: the gravest of the pack.
His deep rough voice was of a hoarser sound
With long red ears that swept along the ground....
And thus the sport goes on, till weary grown,
And ev’ryone is willing to go home.
The weary duck at last swims close to land;
They take her up with a kind, pitying hand.
Of every spannel they extoll the praise
And all their virtues to the skies they raise.
And then they, weary, homewards take their way,
And drown in sprightly bowls the labours of the day.
The duke’s poems are worthless, of course, but among the Knole papers of this date is one which I cannot forbear from reproducing:
AN EPISTLE from DAME I ... L ... to the REVD. MR. B ...
Sweet youth, ’tis hard thy innocence should be
A source of scandal and reproach to me.
Nay, blush not—with reluctance I prevail
O’er innate modesty to own the tale.
That fatal day when first I saw thy face
And marked each angel-look and smiling grace,
Thy fair idea struck my tender heart,
And, oh! remained, though thou didst soon depart;
Maternal love, methought, thou didst inspire,
Around my heart still played the lambent fire.
Thoughtless of harm, why should I aught conceal?
A friend I meet, and thus the truth reveal:
“Say, didst thou mark that dove-like form to-day,
Those eyes that languished with so mild a ray?
Can fleecy lambs such innocence disclose,
E’er glowed such blushes on the opening rose?
Safe could I take the youngster to my bed
And on my bosom fondly rest his head,
Harmless the tedious night were so beguiled;
So watch fond mothers o’er the sucking child.”
That seeming friend betrayed me, and began
To whisper through the house, “I loved the man.”
Then memory spread and worse suspicions rose,
And searching spies broke in on my repose;
Nor chamber, closet, bed, were sacred then:
They sought to find thee, ah! they sought in vain!
Thou wrapped in innocence might sleeping be,
Unconscious of the woes I bore for thee.
The uproar now withdrawn, I strive to rest,
And throw my arms across my pensive breast.
Soon as my eyelids close I see thy form,
Pure as the snow-drop, yet in blushes warm.
But oh! what followed?—strange effect of fright,
I dreamed that in my bed thou pass’t the night ...
Come, with thy innocence, thy smiles impart
Fresh joy to me, and mend each wicked heart,
Talk much of charity, and Love, too, teach:
’Tis mine to suffer, but ’tis thine to preach.