in a common situation. But there is one instance,
which comes exactly up to my purpose. This is
the custom of sending on a basket-woman, who is to
precede the pomp at a coronation, and to strew the
stage with flowers, before the great personages begin
their procession. The antients would certainly
have invoked the goddess Flora for this purpose, and
it would have been no difficulty for their priests,
or politicians to have persuaded the people of the
real presence of the deity, though a plain mortal
had personated her and performed her office.
But we have no such design of imposing on our reader;
and therefore those who object to the heathen theology,
may, if they please, change our goddess into the above-mentioned
basket-woman. Our intention, in short, is to introduce
our heroine with the utmost solemnity in our power,
with an elevation of stile, and all other circumstances
proper to raise the veneration of our reader.—Indeed
we would, for certain causes, advise those of our male
readers who have any hearts, to read no farther, were
we not well assured, that how amiable soever the picture
of our heroine will appear, as it is really a copy
from nature, many of our fair countrywomen will be
found worthy to satisfy any passion, and to answer
any idea of female perfection which our pencil will
be able to raise.
And now, without any further preface, we proceed to
our next chapter.
A short hint of what we can do in the sublime, and
a description of Miss Sophia Western.
Hushed be every ruder breath. May the heathen
ruler of the winds confine in iron chains the boisterous
limbs of noisy Boreas, and the sharp-pointed nose
of bitter-biting Eurus. Do thou, sweet Zephyrus,
rising from thy fragrant bed, mount the western sky,
and lead on those delicious gales, the charms of which
call forth the lovely Flora from her chamber, perfumed
with pearly dews, when on the 1st of June, her birth-day,
the blooming maid, in loose attire, gently trips it
over the verdant mead, where every flower rises to
do her homage, till the whole field becomes enamelled,
and colours contend with sweets which shall ravish
her most.
So charming may she now appear! and you the feathered
choristers of nature, whose sweetest notes not even
Handel can excell, tune your melodious throats to
celebrate her appearance. From love proceeds your
music, and to love it returns. Awaken therefore
that gentle passion in every swain: for lo! adorned
with all the charms in which nature can array her;
bedecked with beauty, youth, sprightliness, innocence,
modesty, and tenderness, breathing sweetness from her
rosy lips, and darting brightness from her sparkling
eyes, the lovely Sophia comes!
Reader, perhaps thou hast seen the statue of the Venus
de Medicis. Perhaps, too, thou hast seen
the gallery of beauties at Hampton Court. Thou
may’st remember each bright Churchill of the
galaxy, and all the toasts of the Kit-cat. Or,
if their reign was before thy times, at least thou
hast seen their daughters, the no less dazzling beauties
of the present age; whose names, should we here insert,
we apprehend they would fill the whole volume.
