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O Breathe not, etc. — Moore’s
Melodies
THE MOST notorious ill-fortune must in the end yield
to the untiring courage of philosophy —
as the most stubborn city to the ceaseless vigilance
of an enemy. Shalmanezer, as we have it in holy
writings, lay three years before Samaria; yet it fell.
Sardanapalus — see Diodorus —
maintained himself seven in Nineveh; but to no purpose.
Troy expired at the close of the second lustrum; and
Azoth, as Aristaeus declares upon his honour as a
gentleman, opened at last her gates to Psammetichus,
after having barred them for the fifth part of a century....
“Thou wretch! — thou vixen! —
thou shrew!” said I to my wife on the morning
after our wedding; “thou witch! —
thou hag! — thou whippersnapper —
thou sink of iniquity! — thou fiery-faced
quintessence of all that is abominable! —
thou — thou-” here standing upon
tiptoe, seizing her by the throat, and placing my mouth
close to her ear, I was preparing to launch forth a
new and more decided epithet of opprobrium, which
should not fail, if ejaculated, to convince her of
her insignificance, when to my extreme horror and
astonishment I discovered that I had lost my breath.
The phrases “I am out of breath,” “I
have lost my breath,” etc., are often enough
repeated in common conversation; but it had never
occurred to me that the terrible accident of which
I speak could bona fide and actually happen!
Imagine — that is if you have a fanciful
turn — imagine, I say, my wonder —
my consternation — my despair!
There is a good genius, however, which has never entirely
deserted me. In my most ungovernable moods I
still retain a sense of propriety, et le chemin des
passions me conduit — as Lord Edouard in
the “Julie” says it did him —
a la philosophie veritable.
Although I could not at first precisely ascertain
to what degree the occurence had affected me, I determined
at all events to conceal the matter from my wife,
until further experience should discover to me the
extent of this my unheard of calamity. Altering
my countenance, therefore, in a moment, from its bepuffed
and distorted appearance, to an expression of arch
and coquettish benignity, I gave my lady a pat on
the one cheek, and a kiss on the other, and without
saying one syllable (Furies! I could not), left
her astonished at my drollery, as I pirouetted out
of the room in a Pas de Zephyr.
Behold me then safely ensconced in my private boudoir,
a fearful instance of the ill consequences attending
upon irascibility — alive, with the qualifications
of the dead — dead, with the propensities
of the living — an anomaly on the face of
the earth — being very calm, yet breathless.
