Hence ere each new-born dance was fully try'd,

The lovely product ev'n in blooming dy'd;
Thro' various hands in wild confufion toft,
Its fteps were alter'd, and its beauties loft;
Till* FUILLET, the pride of GALLIA, rose,
And did the dance in characters compofe;
Each lovely grace by certain marks he taught,
And ev'ry step in lasting volumes wrote:
Hence o'er the world this pleafing art shall spread,
And ev'ry dance in ev'ry clime be read,
By diftant mafters fhall each step be seen,

Tho' mountains rife, and oceans roar between ;
Hence with her fifter arts, fhall dancing claim
An equal right to universal fame;

And ISAAC's rigadoon shall live as long,
AS RAPHAEL'S painting, or as VIRGIL's fong,
Wife Nature ever, with a prudent hand,
Dispenses various gifts to ev'ry land;
To ev'ry nation frugally imparts

A genius fit for fome peculiar arts;

* Fuillet wrote the Art of Dancing by Characters, in French, fince tranflated by Weaver.

VOL. I,

C

To

To trade the DUTCH incline, the Swiss to arms,

Mufic and verse are soft ITALIA'S charms;
BRITANNIA juftly glories to have found
Lands unexplor❜d, and fail'd the globe around;
But none will fure presume to rival FRANCE,
Whether fhe forms or executes the dance;
To her exalted genius 'tis we owe

The sprightly Rigadoon and Louvre flow,
The Borée, and Courant unpractis'd long,
Th' immortal Minuet, and smooth Bretagne,
With all those dances of illuftrious fame,
*Which from their native country take their name ;
With these let ev'ry ball be first begun,

Nor country dance intrude till these are done.

Each cautious bard, ere he attempts to fing,

Firft gently fluttʼring 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 foars in lofty odes,
And fings alone of heroes and of gods;

French Dances.

But

But if he trembling fears a flight so high,
He then descends to fofter elegy;

And if in elegy he can't fucceed,

In paft'ral he may tune the oaten reed:

So fhould the dancer, ere he tries to move,

With care his ftrength, 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 flow majestic dance;
If thefe 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,

Would you in dancing ev'ry fault avoid,
To keep true time be firft your thoughts employ'd;
All other errors they in vain fhall mend,
Who in this one important point offend;

For this, when now united hand in hand
Eager to ftart the youthful couple ftand,

Let them a while their nimble feet reftrain,
And with foft taps beat time to ev'ry strain :
So for the race prepar'd two courfers ftand,
And with impatient pawings spurn the fand.
In vain a master fhall employ his care,
Where nature has once fix'd a clumsy air;
Rather let fuch, to country fports confin'd,
Pursue the flying hare or tim'rous hind:
Nor yet, while I the rural 'fquire despise,
A mien effeminate would I advife:

With equal fcorn I would the fop deride,
Nor let him dance,- -but on the woman's fide.
And you, fair Nymphs, avoid with equal care
A ftupid dulnefs, and a coquet air;

Neither with eyes, that ever love the ground,
Afleep, like spinning tops, run round and round,
with giddy looks and wanton pride,
Stare all around, and skip from fide to fide.

Nor

yet

True dancing, like true wit, is best exprest By nature only to advantage dreft t; 'Tis not a nimble bound, or caper high,

That can pretend to please a curious eye,

1

Good

Good judges no fuch tumblers tricks regard Or think them beautiful, because they're hard. 'Tis not enough that ev'ry ftander-by

No glaring errors in your steps can spy,
The dance and mufic 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 eafy mien ;
'Tis fuch an air that makes her thousands fall,
When FIELDING dances at a birthnight ball;
Smooth as CAMILLA she skims o'er the plain,
And flies like her thro' crowds of heroes flain.
Now when the Minuet oft repeated o'er,
(Like all terreftrial 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 ftraggler in :
But ere they come, permit me to disclose,
How firft, as legends tell, this pastime rofe.