A DREAM OF FAIR WOMEN AND OTHERS.
I read, before such things had lost their spice,
Les Jolies Femmes de Paris—a sweet work,
Devoted to the furtherance of vice—
A sort of Devil's Burke.
A scroll of fame and frailty that includes
All Hamadryads that have ever shone,
And nymphs who sell the Satyrs, in the woods
Of Boulogne and St. John.
And for awhile the study of those plates,
Wherein the sylvan beauties were portrayed,
Lifted my soul across the Dover straits,
Without a Boyton's aid.
* * *
Then swiftly rose another Voice, and burst:
"Aye, let them troll your ditties and applaud;—
'Twas I, Madame, preceded you, I first
Called poetry a fraud.
"I was Thérésa, and I saw what 'took,'
Dropped art, dropped passion; knew you'd had enough;
The amorous Sapeur cozening a cook
Was all my lay of love.
"And court and street took up the strains in glee;
I sang to Cæsar, sang to prince and priest,
And in the palace of the Medici
Roared Le Petit Ebeniste."
Then clashed the cymbals, and the bugles blew,
Vague scents swarmed o'er the visionary stage;
A soft sweet shape arose. We looked and knew
The Darling of the age.
She spoke no word, she had no need to speak;
Who could withstand the sorceress—who compete?
We knew that matchless smile, and that unique
Allurement of the feet;
The way so womanly, and yet so bold;
Her eyes so frank, her gestures so profane;
Her step so light—Ah! no need to be told—
Voici La Belle Helene.
Evohe, la belle Hélène, fair and fat,
And forty, though they say you are, Time's touch
Lies soft upon your plumpness—and of that,
Say, can one have too much?
Oh no, my liege, my gracious Grande Duchesse,
However variously our ways incline,
You find us all before your sweet address,
Natives of Gérolstein.
This poem proceeds to describe, at considerable length, the leading actresses then appearing in the Paris theatres and music halls.
From Edward VII., 1876.
Another parody of the same poem appeared in The World, July 23, 1879, from which a few verses are quoted:—