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Poem
April 8, 1785
Fowle's New Hampshire Gazette And General Advertiser
Portsmouth, Rockingham County, New Hampshire
What is this article about?
A satirical poem where Chloe laments being overlooked for sweethearts despite her elaborate dressing efforts, while widows succeed. The answer advises her to adorn her mind instead of her body to find a husband.
Clipping
OCR Quality
95%
Excellent
Full Text
POET'S CORNER.
The regretted Maid's Lamentation.
Poor Chloe lives pensive, cast down & dejected,
Because she's slighted, & so much neglected.
O tell me the reason! O pray tell me why
The Widows get sweet-hearts and I am pass'd by!
They leave me at home, & they treat me with scorn;
And I am unpitied! forsaken! forlorn!
The Widows all welcomed, respected, caressed,
They're sweetly saluted—their bosoms are press'd!
Each heart is transported, with joy how it jumps!
Whilst here I sit moping alone in the dumps,
I've made use of all methods! I've tried every thing,
On purpose myself into favour to bring;
But all prove abortive, for when I have done,
Of sweet-hearts, I never—O never! get one:
Myself with fine clothing on Sunday I rig:
And trim up my carcass so neat and so trigg:
I put on my fine shoes, and fine yellow gown,
And equally dress'd from my toe to my crown.
With meal-dust and tallow I trim up my hair,
And dangle with ribbands so neat and so rare:
The green and the yellow, the white and the red,
Are fix'd in due order, and pinn'd on my head.
With jewels my ears do I likewise adorn,
The finest and dearest that ever were worn.
I go to my glass and there fix on my tucker:
And cock up my mouth in its Sabbath-day's pucker:
And then having fix'd up my person so neat,
I walk as genteelly to church thro' the street.
My mother she always does give me this charge,
To be careful and see that I step not too large;
I keep her directions and constantly mind,
That my heels do not kick up my gown-tail behind.
When at church, my fine rings to advantage to show,
My fingers I hold by the side of my face;
I try to my utmost, I do all I can,
To dazzle the eyes of some silly young man.
I torture my body with whalebone and wood,
To make me look slender, in misery I've stood;
So tight I go girded that oftentimes I swoon,
And am always glad when the parson has done.
And then I trip home as genteel as before.
But am still unsuccessful, and still must deplore!
'Tis the want of a husband that makes me complain,
Can you tell Chloe how one she may gain?
ANSWER.
Poor Chloe! you own it has been your whole study
To dress, to trim up, to embellish your body.
When once you've as nimbly adorned your mind,
I doubt not but quickly a husband you'll find.
The regretted Maid's Lamentation.
Poor Chloe lives pensive, cast down & dejected,
Because she's slighted, & so much neglected.
O tell me the reason! O pray tell me why
The Widows get sweet-hearts and I am pass'd by!
They leave me at home, & they treat me with scorn;
And I am unpitied! forsaken! forlorn!
The Widows all welcomed, respected, caressed,
They're sweetly saluted—their bosoms are press'd!
Each heart is transported, with joy how it jumps!
Whilst here I sit moping alone in the dumps,
I've made use of all methods! I've tried every thing,
On purpose myself into favour to bring;
But all prove abortive, for when I have done,
Of sweet-hearts, I never—O never! get one:
Myself with fine clothing on Sunday I rig:
And trim up my carcass so neat and so trigg:
I put on my fine shoes, and fine yellow gown,
And equally dress'd from my toe to my crown.
With meal-dust and tallow I trim up my hair,
And dangle with ribbands so neat and so rare:
The green and the yellow, the white and the red,
Are fix'd in due order, and pinn'd on my head.
With jewels my ears do I likewise adorn,
The finest and dearest that ever were worn.
I go to my glass and there fix on my tucker:
And cock up my mouth in its Sabbath-day's pucker:
And then having fix'd up my person so neat,
I walk as genteelly to church thro' the street.
My mother she always does give me this charge,
To be careful and see that I step not too large;
I keep her directions and constantly mind,
That my heels do not kick up my gown-tail behind.
When at church, my fine rings to advantage to show,
My fingers I hold by the side of my face;
I try to my utmost, I do all I can,
To dazzle the eyes of some silly young man.
I torture my body with whalebone and wood,
To make me look slender, in misery I've stood;
So tight I go girded that oftentimes I swoon,
And am always glad when the parson has done.
And then I trip home as genteel as before.
But am still unsuccessful, and still must deplore!
'Tis the want of a husband that makes me complain,
Can you tell Chloe how one she may gain?
ANSWER.
Poor Chloe! you own it has been your whole study
To dress, to trim up, to embellish your body.
When once you've as nimbly adorned your mind,
I doubt not but quickly a husband you'll find.
What sub-type of article is it?
Satire
What themes does it cover?
Satire Society
Moral Virtue
Love Courtship
What keywords are associated?
Chloe Lament
Widows Sweethearts
Vanity Dressing
Adorn Mind
Husband Hunt
Satire Courtship
Poem Details
Title
The Regretted Maid's Lamentation.
Subject
A Maid's Complaint On Failing To Attract A Husband Despite Dressing Up
Form / Style
Rhymed Couplets
Key Lines
Poor Chloe Lives Pensive, Cast Down & Dejected,
Because She's Slighted, & So Much Neglected.
O Tell Me The Reason! O Pray Tell Me Why
The Widows Get Sweet Hearts And I Am Pass'd By!
Poor Chloe! You Own It Has Been Your Whole Study
To Dress, To Trim Up, To Embellish Your Body.
When Once You've As Nimbly Adorned Your Mind,
I Doubt Not But Quickly A Husband You'll Find.