The ART of DANCING . A POEM . Inscribed to the Rt. Hon. the Lady FANNY FIELDING . Written in the Year 1730. By the Same . Incessu patuit Dea . VIRG. Virgil, 1.405.

CANTO I. IN the smooth dance to move with graceful mien , Easy with care , and sprightly tho' serene , To mark th' instructions echoing strains convey , And with just steps each tuneful note obey , I teach ; be present , all ye sacred Choir , Blow the soft flute , and strike the sounding lyre ; When FIELDING bids your kind assistance bring , And at her feet the lowly tribute fling ; Oh may her eyes ( to her this verse is due ) What first themselves inspir'd , vouchsafe to view ! Hail loftiest art ! thou can'st all hearts insnare , And make the fairest still appear more fair . Beauty can little execution do , Unless she borrows half her arms from you ! Few , like PYGMALION , doat on lifeless charms , Or care to clasp a statue in their arms ; But breasts of flint must melt with fierce desire , When art and motion wake the sleeping fire : A Venus , drawn by great Apelles' hand , May for awhile our wond'ring eyes command , But still , tho' form'd with all the pow'rs of art , The lifeless piece can never warm the heart ; So fair a nymph , perhaps , may please the eye , Whilst all her beauteous limbs unactive lie , But when her charms are in the dance display'd , Then ev'ry heart adores the lovely maid : This sets her beauty in the fairest light , And shews each grace in full perfection bright ; Then , as she turns around , from every part , Like porcupines she sends a piercing dart ; In vain , alas ! the fond spectator tries To shun the pleasing dangers of her eyes , For Parthian-like , she wounds as sure behind , With flowing curls , and ivory neck reclin'd : Whether her steps the Minuet's mazes trace , Or the slow Louvre's more majestick pace , Whether the Rigadoon employs her care , Or sprightly Jigg displays the nimble fair , At every stop new beauties we explore , And worship now , what we admir'd before : So when Aeneas , in the Tyrian grove , Fair Venus met , the charming queen of Love , The beauteous goddess , whilst unmov'd she stood , Seem'd some fair nymph , the guardian of the wood ; But when she mov'd , at once her heav'nly mien And graceful step confess'd bright Beauty's queen , New glories o'er her form each moment rise , And all the Goddess opens to his eyes . Now haste , my Muse , pursue thy destin'd way , What dresses best become the dancer , say ; The rules of dress forget not to impart , A lesson previous to the dancing art . The soldiers scarlet glowing from afar , Shews that his bloody occupation's war ; Whilst the lawn band , beneath a double chin , As plainly speaks divinity within ; The milk-maid safe thro' driving rains and snows , Wrapt in her cloak , and prop'd on pattens goes ; Whilst the soft Belle , immur'd in velvet chair , Needs but the silken shoe , and trusts her bosom bare : The woolly drab , and English broad-cloth warm , Guard well the horseman from the beating storm , But load the dancer with too great a weight , And call from ev'ry pore the dewy sweat ; Rather let him his active limbs display In camblet thin , or glossy paduasoy . Let no unwieldy pride his shoulders press ; But airy , light , and easy be his dress ; Thin be his yielding soal , and low his heel , So shall he nimbly bound , and safely wheel . But let not precepts known my verse prolong , Precepts which use will better teach , than song ; For why should I the gallant spark command , With clean white gloves to fit his ready hand ? Or in his fob enlivening spirits wear , And pungent salts to raise the fainting fair ? Or hint , the sword that dangles at his side , Should from its silken bandage be unty'd ? Why should my lays the youthful tribe advise , Lest snowy clouds from out their wigs arise ; So shall their partners mourn their laces spoil'd , And shining silks with greasy powder soil'd ? Nor need I , sure , bid prudent youths beware , Lest with erected tongues their buckles stare , The pointed steel shall oft' their stocking rend , And oft' th' approaching petticoat offend . And now , ye youthful fair , I sing to you , With pleasing smiles my useful labours view : For you the silkworms fine-wrought webs display , And lab'ring spin their little lives away , For you bright gems with radiant colours glow , Fair as the dies that paint the heav'nly bow , For you the sea resigns its pearly store , And earth unlocks her mines of treasur'd ore ; In vain yet Nature thus her gifts bestows , Unless yourselves with art those gifts dispose . Yet think not , Nymphs , that in the glitt'ring ball , One form of dress prescrib'd can suit with all ; One brightest shines when wealth and art combine To make the finish'd piece compleatly fine ; When least adorn'd , another steals our hearts , And rich in native beauties , wants no arts : In some are such resistless graces found , That in all dresses they are sure to wound ; Their perfect forms all foreign aids despise , And gems but borrow lustre from their eyes . Let the fair Nymph , in whose plump cheeks is seen A constant blush , be clad in chearful green ; In such a dress the sportive sea-nymphs go ; So in their grassy bed fresh roses blow : The lass whose skin is like the hazel brown , With brighter yellow should o'ercome her own : While maids grown pale with sickness or despair , The sable's mournful dye should choose to wear ; So the pale moon still shines with purest light , Cloath'd in the dusky mantle of the night . But far from you be all those treach'rous arts , That wound with painted charms unwary hearts , Dancing's a touchstone that true beauty tries , Nor suffers charms that Nature's hand denies : Tho' for awhile we may with wonder view The rosy blush , and skin of lovely hue , Yet soon the dance will cause the cheeks to glow , And melt the waxen lips , and neck of snow : So shine the fields in icy fetters bound , Whilst frozen gems bespangle all the ground , Thro' the clear crystal of the glitt'ring snow , With scarlet dye the blushing hawthorns glow ; O'er all the plains unnumber'd glories rise , And a new bright creation charms our eyes : Till Zephyr breathes , then all at once decay The splendid scenes , their glories fade away , The fields resign the beauties not their own , And all their snowy charms run trickling down . Dare I in such momentous points advise , I should condemn the hoop's enormous size , Of ills I speak by long experience found , Oft' have I trod th' immeasurable round , And mourn'd my shins bruis'd black with many a wound . Nor shou'd the tighten'd stays , too straitly lac'd , In whale-bone bondage gall the slender waist ; Nor waving lappets shou'd the dancing fair , Nor ruffles edg'd with dangling fringes wear ; Oft' will the cobweb ornaments catch hold On the approaching button rough with gold , Nor force , nor art can then the bonds divide , When once th' intangled Gordian knot is ty'd : So the unhappy pair , by Hymen's pow'r , Together join'd in some ill-fated hour , The more they strive their freedom to regain , The faster binds th' indissoluble chain . Let each fair maid , who fears to be disgrac'd , Ever be sure to tye her garter fast , Lest the loos'd string , amidst the public ball , A wish'd for prize to some proud fop should fall , Who the rich treasure shall triumphant shew , And with warm blushes cause her cheeks to glow . But yet , ( as Fortune by the self-same ways She humbles many , some delights to raise ) It happen'd once , a-fair illustrious dame By such neglect acquir'd immortal fame . And hence the radiant Star and Garter blue BRITANNIA'S nobles grace , if Fame says true : Hence still , PLANTAGENET , thy beauties bloom , Tho' long since moulder'd in the dusky tomb , Still thy lost Garter is thy sov'reign's care , And what each royal breast is proud to wear . But let me now my lovely charge remind , Lest they forgetful leave their fans behind ; Lay not , ye fear , the pretty toy aside , A toy at once display'd , for use and pride , A wond'rous engine , that by magick charms , Cools your own breast , and ev'ry other's warms . What daring bard shall e'er attempt to tell The pow'rs , that in this little weapon dwell ? What verse can e'er explain its various parts , Its numerous uses , motions , charms and arts ? Its painted folds , that oft extended wide , Th' afflicted fair one's blubber'd beauties hide , When secret sorrows her sad bosom fill , If STREPHON is unkind , or SHOCK is ill : Its sticks , on which her eyes dejected pore , And pointing fingers number o'er and o'er , When the kind virgin burns with secret shame , Dies to consent , yet fears to own her flame ; Its shake triumphant , its victorious clap , Its angry slutter , and its wanton tap ? Forbear , my Muse , th' extensive theme to sing , Nor trust in such a flight thy tender wing ; Rather do you in humble lines proclaim , From whence this engine took its form and name , Say from what cause it first deriv'd its birth , How form'd in heav'n , how thence deduc'd to earth . Once in Arcadia , that fam'd seat of love , There liv'd a nymph , the pride of all the grove , A lovely nymph , adorn'd with ev'ry grace , An easy shape , and sweetly blooming face , FANNY the damsel's name , as chaste as fair , Each virgin's envy , and each swain's despair ; To charm her ear the rival shepherds sing , Blow the soft flute , and wake the trembling string , For her they leave their wand'ring flocks to rove , Whilst FANNY'S name resounds thro' ev'ry grove , And spreads on every tree , inclos'd in knots of love ; As FIELDING'S now , her eyes all hearts inflame , Like her in beauty , as alike in name . 'Twas when the summer sun , now mounted high , With fiercer beams had scorch'd the glowing sky , Beneath the covert of a cooling shade , To shun the heat , this lovely nymph was lay'd ; The sultry weather o'er her cheeks had spread A blush , that added to their native red , And her fair breasts , as polish'd marble white , Were half conceal'd , and half expos'd to sight ; AEOLUS the mighty God , whom winds obey , Observ'd the beauteous maid , as thus she lay , O'er all her charms he gaz'd with fond delight , And suck'd in poison at the dangerous sight ; He sighs , he burns ; at last declares his pain , But still he sighs , and still he wooes in vain ; The cruel nymph , regardless of his moan , Minds not his flame , uneasy with her own ; But still complains , that he who rul'd the air Would not command one Zephyr to repair Around her face , nor gentle breeze to play Thro' the dark glade , to cool the sultry day ; By love incited , and the hopes of joy , Th' ingenious God contriv'd this pretty toy , With gales incessant to relieve her flame ; And call'd it FAN , from lovely FANNY'S name .

CANTO II . NOW see prepar'd to lead the sprightly dance , The lovely nymphs , and well-dress'd youths advance ; The spacious room receives each jovial guest , And the floor shakes with pleasing weight oppress'd : Thick rang'd on every side , with various dyes The fair in glossy silks our sight surprize : So , in a garden bath'd with genial show'rs , A thousand sorts of variegated flow'rs , Jonquils , carnations , pinks , and tulips rise , And in a gay confusion charm our eyes . High o'er their heads , with num'rous candles bright , Large sconces shed their sparkling beams of light , Their sparkling beams that still more brightly glow , Reflected back from gems , and eyes below : Unnumber'd fans to cool the crowded fair With breathing Zephyrs move the circling air , The sprightly fiddle , and the sounding lyre Each youthful breast with gen'rous warmth inspire ; Fraught with all joys the blissful moments fly , While music melts the ear , and beauty charms the eye . Now let the youth , to whose superior place It first belongs the splendid ball to grace , With humble bow , and ready hand prepare , Forth from the crowd to lead his chosen fair ; The fair shall not his kind request deny , But to the pleasing toil with equal ardour fly . But stay , rash pair , not yet untaught advance , First hear the Muse , ere you attempt to dance : Arte citae veloque rates remoque moventur , Arte leves currus . OVID . By art directed o'er the foaming tide Secure from rocks the painted vessels glide ; By art the chariot scours the dusty plain , Springs at the whip , and — Nec audit currus habenas . VIRG. hears the strait'ning rein : To art our bodies must obedient prove , If e'er we hope with graceful ease to move . Long was the dancing art unfix'd , and free , Hence lost in error and uncertainty , No precepts did in mind , or rules obey , But every master taught a diff'rent way ; Hence ere each new-born dance was fully try'd , The lovely product ev'n in blooming dy'd , Thro' various hands in wild confusion toss'd , Its steps were alter'd , and its beauties lost ; Till Fuillet wrote the Art of Dancing by characters in French , since translated by Weaver . FUILLET , the pride of GALLIA , rose , And did the dance in characters compose , Each lovely grace by certain marks he taught , And every step in lasting volumes wrote : Hence o'er the world this pleasing art shall spread , And every dance in ev'ry clime be read . By distant masters shall each step be seen , Tho' mountains rise , and oceans roar between ; Hence , with her sister arts , shall Dancing claim An equal right to universal fame , And ISAAC'S rigadoon shall live as long , As RAPHAEL'S painting , or as VIRGIL'S song . Wise Nature ever , with a prudent hand , Dispenses various gifts to every land , To every nation frugally imparts A genius fit for some peculiar arts ; To trade the DUTCH incline , the SWISS to arms , Music and verse are soft ITALIA'S charms ; BRITANNIA justly glories to have found Lands unexplor'd , and sail'd the globe around : But none will sure presume to rival FRANCE , Whether she forms , or executes the dance ; To her exalted genius 'tis we owe The sprightly Rigadoon and Louvre slow , The Borée , and Courant unpractis'd long , Th' immortal Minuet , and the smooth Bretagne , With all those dances of illustrious fame , French dances . That from their native country take their name , With these let every ball be first begun , Nor country dance intrude till these are done . Each cautious bard , ere he attempts to sing , First gently flutt'ring tries his tender wing , And if he finds that with uncommon fire The Muses all his raptur'd soul inspire , At once to heav'n he soars in lofty odes , And sings alone of heroes and of gods ; But if he trembling fears a flight so high , He then descends to softer elegy ; And if in elegy he can't succeed , In past'ral he may tune the oaten reed : So should the dancer , ere he tries to move , With care his strength , his weight , and genius prove ; Then , if he finds kind Nature's gifts impart Endowments proper for the dancing art , If in himself he feels together join'd , An active body and ambitious mind , In nimble Rigadoons he may advance , Or in the Louvre's slow majestic dance ; If these he fears to reach , with easy pace Let him the Minuet's circling mazes trace : Is this too hard ? this too let him forbear , And to the Country-dance confine his care . Wou'd you in dancing ev'ry fault avoid , To keep true time be your first thoughts employ'd ; All other errors they in vain shall mend , Who in this one important point offend ; For this , when now united hand in hand Eager to start the youthful couple stand ; Let them awhile their nimble feet restrain , And with soft taps beat time to ev'ry strain : So for the race prepar'd two coursers stand , And with impatient pawings spurn the sand . In vain a master shall employ his care , Where Nature once has fix'd a clumsy air ; Rather let such , to country sports confin'd , Pursue the flying hare , or tim'rous hind : Nor yet , while I the rural 'squire despise , A mien effeminate would I advise ; With equal scorn I would the fop deride , Nor let him dance — but on the woman's side . And you , fair nymphs , avoid with equal care , A stupid dulness , and a coquet air ; Neither with eyes , that ever love the ground , Asleep , like spinning-tops , run round and round ; Nor yet with giddy looks , and wanton pride , Stare all around , and skip from side to side . True dancing , like true wit , is best express'd By nature only to advantage dress'd ; 'Tis not a nimble bound , or caper high , That can pretend to please a curious eye , Good judges no such tumblers tricks regard , Or think them beautiful , because they're hard . 'Tis not enough , that every stander-by No glaring errors in your steps can spy , The dance and music must so nicely meet , Each note should seem an echo to your feet ; A nameless grace must in each movement dwell , Which words can ne'er express , or precepts tell , Not to be taught , but ever to be seen In FLAVIA'S air , and CHLOE'S easy mien : 'Tis such an air that makes her thousands fall , When FIELDING dances at a birth-night ball ; Smooth as CAMILLA she skims o'er the plain , And flies like her thro' crowds of heroes slain . Now when the Minuet oft repeated o'er , ( Like all terrestrial joys ) can please no more , And ev'ry nymph , refusing to expand Her charms , declines the circulating hand ; Then let the jovial country-dance begin , And the loud fiddles call each straggler in : But ere they come , permit me to disclose , How first , as legends tell , this pastime rose . In ancient times ( such times are now no more ) When Albion's crown illustrious ARTHUR wore , In some fair op'ning glade , each summer's night , Where the pule moon diffus'd her silver light , On the soft carpet of a grassy field , The sporting fairies their assemblies held : Some lightly tripping with their pigmy queen , In circling ringlets mark'd the level green , Some with soft notes bade mellow pipes resound , And music warble thro' the groves around ; Oft' lonely shepherds by the forest side , Belated peasants oft' their revels spy'd , And home returning , o'er the nut-brown ale , Their guests diverted with the wond'rous tale . Instructed hence , throughout the British isle , And fond to imitate the pleasing toil , Round where the trembling may pole's fix'd on high , And bears its flow'ry honours to the sky , The ruddy maids , and sun-burnt swains resort , And practise every night the lovely sport ; On every side Aeolian artists stand , Whose active elbows swelling winds command , The swelling winds harmonious pipes inspire , And blow in ev'ry breast a generous fire . Thus taught at first the country-dance began , And hence to cities and to courts it ran , Succeeding ages did in time impart Various improvements to the lovely art : From fields and groves to palaces remov'd ; Great ones the pleasing exercise approv'd ; Hence the loud fiddle , and shrill trumpet's sounds , Are made companions of the dancer's bounds ; Hence gems , and silks , brocades , and ribbons join , To make the ball with perfect lustre shine . So rude at first the tragic Muse appear'd , Her voice alone by rustic rabble heard , Where twisting trees a cooling arbour made The pleas'd spectators sat beneath the shade , The homely stage with rushes green was strew'd , And in a cart the strolling actors rode : Till time at length improv'd the great design , And bade the scenes with painted landskips shine ; Then art did all the bright machines dispose , And theatres of Parian marble rose , Then mimic thunder shook the canvas sky , And Gods descended from their tow'rs on high . With caution now let every youth prepare To choose a partner from the mingled fair ; Vain would he hear th' instructed Muse's voice , If she pretended to direct his choice : Beauty alone by fancy is express'd , And charms in different forms each different breast ; A snowy skin this am'rous youth admires , Whilst nut-brown cheeks another's bosom fires . Small waists and slender limbs some hearts ensnare , While others love the more substantial fair . But let not outward charms your judgments sway , Your reason rather than your eyes obey , And in the dance , as in the marriage noose , Rather for merit , than for beauty , choose : Be her your choice , who knows with perfect skill When she should move , and when she should be still , Who uninstructed can perform her share , And kindly half the pleasing burthen bear . Unhappy is that hopeless wretch's fate , Who fetter'd in the matrimonial state With a poor , simple , unexperienc'd wife , Is forc'd to lead the tedious dance of life ; And such is his , with such a partner join'd , A moving puppet , but without a mind : Still must his hand be pointing out the way , Yet ne'er can teach so fast , as she can stray , Beneath her follies he must ever groan , And ever blush for errors not his own . But now behold united hand in hand , Rang'd on each side , the well-pair'd couples stand ! Each youthful bosom beating with delight , Waits the brisk signal for the pleasing fight : While lovely eyes , that flash unusual rays , And snowy bubbies pull'd above the stays , Quick busy hands , and bridling heads declare , The fond impatience of the starting fair . And see the sprightly dance is now begun ! Now here , now there the giddy maze they run , Now with slow steps they pace the circling ring , Now all confus'd , too swift for sight they spring : So , in a wheel with rapid fury toss'd , The undistinguish'd spokes are in the motion lost . The dancer here no more requires a guide , To no strict steps his nimble feet are ty'd , The Muse's precepts here wou'd useless be , Where all is fancy'd , unconfin'd , and free ; Let him but to the musick's voice attend , By this instructed , he can ne'er offend ; If to his share it falls the dance to lead , In well-known paths he may be sure to tread ; If others lead , let him their motions view , And in their steps the winding maze pursue . In every Country-dance a serious mind , Turn'd for reflection , can a moral find ; In Hunt-the-Squirrel thus the nymph we view , Seeks when we fly , but flies when we pursue : Thus in Round-dances , where our partners change , And unconfin'd from fair to fair we range , As soon as one from his own consort flies , Another seizes on the lovely prize : Awhile the fav'rite youth enjoys her charms , Till the next comer steals her from his arms , New ones succeed , the last is still her care ; How true an emblem of th' inconstant fair ! Where can philosophers , and sages wise , Who read the curious volumes of the skies , A model more exact than dancing name , Of the creation's universal frame ? Where worlds unnumber'd o'er th' aetherial way , In a bright regular confusion stray ; Now here , now there they whirl along the sky , Now near approach , and now far distant fly , Now meet in the same order they began , And then the great celestial dance is done . Where can the mor'list find a juster plan Of the vain labours , and the life of man ? Awhile thro' justling crowds we toil , and sweat , And eagerly pursue we know not what , Then when our trifling short-liv'd race is run , Quite tir'd sit down , just where we first begun . Tho' to your arms kind fate's indulgent care Has giv'n a partner exquisitely fair , Let not her charms so much engage your heart , That you neglect the skilful dancer's part ; Be not , when you the tuneful notes should hear , Still whisp'ring idle prattle in her ear ; When you should be employ'd , be not at play , Nor for your joys all others steps delay : But when the finish'd dance you once have done , And with applause thro' ev'ry couple run , There rest awhile : there snatch the fleeting bliss , The tender whisper , and the balmy kiss ; Each secret wish , each softer hope confess , And her moist palm with eager fingers press ; With smiles the fair shall hear your warm desires , When musick melts her soul , and dancing sires . Thus mix'd with love , the pleasing toil pursue , Till the unwelcome morn appears in view ; Then , when approaching day its beams displays , And the dull candles shine with fainter rays , Then when the sun just rises o'er the deep , And each bright eye is almost set in sleep , With ready hands , obsequious youths , prepare Safe to her coach to lead each chosen fair , And guard her from the morn's inclement air : Let a warm hood enwrap her lovely head , And o'er her neck a handkerchief be spread , Around her shoulders let this arm be cast , Whilst that from cold defends her slender waist ; With kisses warm her balmy lips shall glow , Unchill'd by nightly damps , or wintry snow ; While gen'rous white-wine , mull'd with ginger warm , Safely protects her inward frame from harm . But ever let my lovely pupils fear To chill their mantling blood with cold small beer ; Ah , thoughtless fair ! the tempting draught refuse , When thus forewarn'd by my experienc'd Muse ; Let the sad consequence your thoughts employ , Nor hazard future pains , for present joy , Destruction lurks within the pois'nous dose , A fatal fever , or a pimpled nose . Thus thro' each precept of the dancing art The Muse has play'd the kind instructors part , Thro' every maze her pupils she has led , And pointed out the surest paths to tread ; No more remains ; no more the goddess sings , But drops her pinions , and unfurls her wings ; On downy beds the weary dancers lie , And sleep's silk cords tie down each drowsy eye ; Delightful dreams their pleasing sports restore , And ev'n in sleep they seem to dance once more . And now the work completely finish'd lies , Which the devouring teeth of time defies ; Whilst birds in air , or fish in streams we find , Or damsels fret with aged partners join'd ; As long as nymphs shall with attentive ear A fiddle rather than a sermon hear ; So long the brighest eye shall oft peruse The useful lines of my instructive Muse ; Each belle shall wear them wrote upon her fan , And each bright beau shall read them — if he can .