Джон Каннингем (John Cunningham)

The Broken China

Soon as the sun began to peep
And gild the morning skies,
Young Chloe, from disorder'd sleep,
Unveil'd her radiant eyes.

A guardian Sylph, the wanton sprite
That waited on her still,
Had teiz'd her all the tedious night
With visionary ill.

"Some shock of fate is surely nigh,
Exclaim'd the timorous maid:
What do these horrid dreams imply
My Cupid can't be dead!"

She call'd her Cupid by his name,
In dread of some mishap;
Wagging his tail, her Cupid came,
And jump'd into her lap.

And now the best of brittle ware,
Her sumptuous table grac'd:
The gentle emblems of the fair,
In beauteous order plac'd.

The kettle boil'd, and all prepar'd
To give the morning treat,
When Dick, the country beau appear'd,
And bowing, took his seat.

Well — chatting on of that and this,
The maid revers'd her cup;
And, tempted by the forfeit kiss,
The bumpkin turn'd it up.

With transport he demands the prize,
Right fairly it was won:
With many a frown the fair denies;
Fond baits to draw him on.

A man must prove himself polite,
In such a case as this,
So Richard strives with all his might
To force the forfeit kiss.

But as he strove — O dire to tell!
(And yet with grief I must)
The table turn'd — the china fell,
A heap of painted dust!

"O fatal purport of my dream!"
The fair, afflicted, cry'd;
"Occasion'd (I confess my shame)
By childishness and pride:

For in a kiss, or two, or three,
No mischief could be found;
Then had I been more frank and free,
My china had been sound."

Поддержать сайт