Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 19
General
Wilson's Tales of the Borders and of Scotland, Volume 19
Scottish Borders (Scotland) -- Fiction
This was just as good a beginning as ever a sly man-catcher
essayed in the world of love, since the days of Helen; and the
arch kidnapper knew very well how to follow up her wile; for,
after displaying, by a proper caper, as much of her ancle as
would do the business, she skipped away, as nimbly as Nymphidia
in the service of Oberon’s queen, and was not again seen till she
opened the window of her mother’s house, and displayed herself,
capless and coifless, to her staring admirer. The capture was now
completed. Jove himself was never more completely entoiled by the
chains of the little baggage Iynge; and, during the whole of that
day, Gustavus strode along the pavement, opposite the window of
his charmer, as if he had been on duty before a besieged city. He
had just as little power to walk away as he had to circumscribe
his step to the ordinary measure of God’s creatures; every stride
occupying, at least, four feet of pavement, and being executed
so regularly and methodically, that one step did not differ from
another by a single inch. But it is a mere bagatelle to describe
these pendulous movements, produced, for the first time, by the
spirit of love; while, to execute with truth a faithful picture
of the painful contortions of a countenance originally formed a
wood-cut of extraordinary dimensions, and now under the soft,
melting influence of the tenderest of passions, would require a
goose-quill, owning no less an influence than the spirit of an
immortal genius. As the loves of some of the inferior animals are
expressed by sounds and signs that seem to indicate nothing but
fierce war, so might the demonstrations of this extraordinary
affair of the heart, exhibited through the grotesque motions of
muscles that had been as rigid as dried leather for twenty years,
be looked upon as anything rather than signs of the languishing
passion which, as Augustin says, will make a musician out of
an ass. Yet, doubtless, there was, both in his goggle-eyes and
lengthened face, an expression that was intended for softness and
languishment; and it is not impossible, that, if one had been
apprized _a priori_ of the intention, he might have discovered
in the ludicrous gesticulations some resemblance to at least a
burlesque of what is only a very ridiculous exhibition at the very
best.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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