A Letter from a Lady in London to a Lady at Lausanne
Dear Alice! you’ll laugh when you know it,--Last week, at the Duchess’s ball,I danced with the clever new poet,--You’ve heard of him,--Tully St. Paul.Miss Jonquil was perfectly frantic;I wish you had seen Lady Anne!It really was very romantic,He is such a talented man!
He came up from Brazenose College,Just caught, as they call it, this spring;And his head, love, is stuffed full of knowledgeOf every conceivable thing.Of science and logic he chatters,As fine and as fast as he can;Though I am no judge of such matters,I’m sure he’s a talented man.
His stories and jests are delightful;--Not stories or jests, dear, for you;The jests are exceedingly spiteful,The stories not always quite true.Perhaps to be kind and veraciousMay do pretty well at Lausanne;But it never would answer,--good gracious!Chez nous--in a talented man.
He sneers,--how my Alice would scold him!--At the bliss of a sigh or a tear;He laughed--only think!--when I told himHow we cried o’er Trevelyan last year;I vow I was quite in a passion;I broke all the sticks of my fan;But sentiment’s quite out of fashion,It seems, in a talented man.
Lady Bab, who is terribly moral,Has told me that Tully is vain,And apt--which is silly--to quarrel,And fond--which is sad--of champagne.I listened, and doubted, dear Alice,For I saw, when my Lady began,It was only the Dowager’s malice;--She does hate a talented man!
He’s hideous, I own it. But fame, love,Is all that these eyes can adore;He’s lame,--but Lord Byron was lame, love,And dumpy,--but so is Tom Moore.Then his voice,--such a voice! my sweet creature,It’s like your Aunt Lucy’s toucan:But oh! what’s a tone or a feature,When once one’s a talented man?
My mother, you know, all the season,Has talked of Sir Geoffrey’s estate;And truly, to do the fool reason,He has been less horrid of late.But to-day, when we drive in the carriage,I’ll tell her to lay down her plan;--If ever I venture on marriage,It must be a talented man!
P.S.--I have found on reflection,One fault in my friend,--entre nous;Without it, he’d just be perfection;--Poor fellow, he has not a sou!And so, when he comes in SeptemberTo shoot with my uncle, Sir Dan,I’ve promised mamma to rememberHe’s only a talented man!
Words in this poem
- duchess n.
- The wife or widow of a duke; also, a lady who has the sovereignty of a duchy in her own right. [F. duchesse, fr. duc duke.]
- talented a.
- Furnished with talents; possessing skill or talent; mentally gifted. Abp. Abbot (1663).
- nous n.
- Intellect; understanding; talent; -- used humorously.
- broke v. i.
- To transact business for another. Brome. [See Broker, and cf. Brook.]
- champagne n.
- A light wine, of several kinds, originally made in the province of Champagne, in France. [F. See Champaign.]
- adore v. t.
- To worship with profound reverence; to pay divine honors to; to honor as deity or as divine. [OE. aouren, anouren, adoren, OF. aorer, adorer, F. adorer, fr. L. adorare; ad + orare to speak, pray, os, oris, mouth. In OE. confused with honor, the French pr]
- dumpy a.
- From Dump a short ill-shapen piece.
- horrid a.
- Rough; rugged; bristling. [L. horridus. See Horror, and cf. Ordure.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
A Letter from a Lady in London to a Lady at Lausanne is in the public domain. This text is taken from The poems of Winthrop Mackworth Praed. [selected], Project Gutenberg ebook #71008; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Winthrop Mackworth Praed, A Letter from a Lady in London to a Lady at Lausanne, in Poems (1820–1839), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #71008, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/praed-poems/a-letter-from-a-lady-in-london-to-a-lady-at-lausanne.html, id L10248.
Form and metre
A Letter from a Lady in London to a Lady at Lausanne is 64 lines in 8 stanzas of 8 lines each. The rhyme scheme is ABABCDCD, complete in 5 of its 8 stanzas. The metre is anapaestic trimeter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 85%). 85% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 8.6 syllables. 28 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 8% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in anapaestic trimeter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 ABABCDCD itA · ballB · poetA · paulB · franticC · anneD · romanticC · manD
- 2 ABABCDCD collegeA · springB · knowledgeA · thingB · chattersC · canD · mattersC · manD
- 3 ABABCDCD delightfulA · youB · spitefulA · trueB · veraciousC · lausanneD · graciousC · manD
- 4 ABABCDCD himA · tearB · himA · yearB · passionC · fanD · fashionC · manD
- 5 ABABCDCD moralA · vainB · quarrelA · champagneB · aliceC · beganD · maliceC · manD
- 6 ABABC-C- loveA · adoreB · loveA · mooreB · creatureC · toucan · featureC · man
- 7 ABAB-C-C seasonA · estateB · reasonA · lateB · carriage · planC · marriage · manC
- 8 A-A-BCBC reflectionA · nous · perfectionA · sou · septemberB · danC · rememberB · manC
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against anapaestic trimeter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| Dear Alice! you’ll laugh when you know it,-- | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| Last week, at the Duchess’s ball, | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| I danced with the clever new poet,-- | 9 | ····/˘·/˘ |
| You’ve heard of him,--Tully St. Paul. | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| Miss Jonquil was perfectly frantic; | 9 | ····/˘˘/˘ |
| I wish you had seen Lady Anne! | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| It really was very romantic, | 9 | ·/˘·/˘˘/˘ |
| He is such a talented man! | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| He came up from Brazenose College, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| Just caught, as they call it, this spring; | 8 | ········ |
| And his head, love, is stuffed full of knowledge | 10 | ········/˘ |
| Of every conceivable thing. | 8 | ·/˘˘/˘˘· |
| Of science and logic he chatters, | 9 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘ |
| As fine and as fast as he can; | 8 | ········ |
| Though I am no judge of such matters, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| I’m sure he’s a talented man. | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| His stories and jests are delightful;-- | 9 | ·/˘···˘/˘ |
| Not stories or jests, dear, for you; | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| The jests are exceedingly spiteful, | 9 | ···˘/˘˘/˘ |
| The stories not always quite true. | 8 | ·/˘·/··· |
| Perhaps to be kind and veracious | 9 | ˘/····˘/˘ |
| May do pretty well at Lausanne; | 8 | ··/˘···/ |
| But it never would answer,--good gracious! | 9 | ··/·/˘·/˘ |
| Chez nous--in a talented man. | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| He sneers,--how my Alice would scold him!-- | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| At the bliss of a sigh or a tear; | 9 | ········· |
| He laughed--only think!--when I told him | 9 | ··/˘····· |
| How we cried o’er Trevelyan last year; | 9 | ····˘/˘·· |
| I vow I was quite in a passion; | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| I broke all the sticks of my fan; | 8 | ········ |
| But sentiment’s quite out of fashion, | 9 | ·/˘˘···/˘ |
| It seems, in a talented man. | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| Lady Bab, who is terribly moral, | 9 | /˘···/˘/˘ |
| Has told me that Tully is vain, | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| And apt--which is silly--to quarrel, | 9 | ····/˘·/˘ |
| And fond--which is sad--of champagne. | 8 | ······˘/ |
| I listened, and doubted, dear Alice, | 9 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘ |
| For I saw, when my Lady began, | 9 | ·····/˘˘/ |
| It was only the Dowager’s malice;-- | 9 | ··/˘·/˘/˘ |
| She does hate a talented man! | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| He’s hideous, I own it. But fame, love, | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| Is all that these eyes can adore; | 8 | ······˘/ |
| He’s lame,--but Lord Byron was lame, love, | 9 | ····/˘··· |
| And dumpy,--but so is Tom Moore. | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| Then his voice,--such a voice! my sweet creature, | 10 | ········/˘ |
| It’s like your Aunt Lucy’s toucan: | 8 | ····/˘/˘ |
| But oh! what’s a tone or a feature, | 9 | ·······/˘ |
| When once one’s a talented man? | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| My mother, you know, all the season, | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| Has talked of Sir Geoffrey’s estate; | 8 | ····/˘˘/ |
| And truly, to do the fool reason, | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| He has been less horrid of late. | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| But to-day, when we drive in the carriage, | 10 | ········/˘ |
| I’ll tell her to lay down her plan;-- | 8 | ········ |
| If ever I venture on marriage, | 9 | ·/˘·/˘·/˘ |
| It must be a talented man! | 8 | ····/˘˘· |
| P.S.--I have found on reflection, | 9 | ······˘/˘ |
| One fault in my friend,--entre nous; | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| Without it, he’d just be perfection;-- | 9 | ······˘/˘ |
| Poor fellow, he has not a sou! | 8 | ·/˘····· |
| And so, when he comes in September | 9 | ······˘/˘ |
| To shoot with my uncle, Sir Dan, | 8 | ····/˘·· |
| I’ve promised mamma to remember | 9 | ·/˘/˘·˘/˘ |
| He’s only a talented man! | 8 | ·/˘·/˘˘· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.