ODE BY DR. SAMUEL JOHNSON TO MRS. THRALE
UPON THEIR SUPPOSED APPROACHING NUPTIALS
WRITTEN BY JAMES BOSWELL
Boswell wrote this shortly after Henry Thrale's death and circulated it among his and Johnson's friends. He was jealous of Mrs. Thrale and concerned about the rumors that she and Johnson might marry. Apparently Johnson never heard of the Ode (one shudders to think of his reaction if he had) and Mrs. Thrale was not aware of it until she read excerpts that were printed in the Life of Johnson. She never suspected that Boswell was the author. Boswell's antipathy to Lord Auchinleck's second marriage may have been one of the underlying reasons for his decision to publish this.
If e’er my fingers touched the lyre
In satire fierce or pleasure gay,
Shall not my Thralia’s smiles inspire?
Shall Sam refuse the sportive lay?
My dearest darling, view your slave,
Behold him as your very Scrub,
Ready to write as author grave,
Or govern well the brewing tub.
To rich felicity thus raised,
My bosom glows with amorous fire;
Porter no longer shall be praised;
Tis I myself am Thrale's entire…
[Piozzi once alarm’d my fears,
Till beauteous Mary’s tragic fate
And Rizzo’s tale dissolv’d in tears
My mistress, ere it was too late.
Indignant thought to English pride!
That any eye should ever see
Johnson one moment set aside
For Tweedledom and Tweedledee.]
Desmoulins now may go her ways,
And poor blind Williams sing alone;
Levett exhaust his lungs in praise;
And Frank his master’s fortunes own.
Congratulating crowds shall come
Our new-born happiness to hail,
Whether at ball, at rout, at drum;
Yet human spite we must bewail.
For though they come in pleasing guise,
And cry, “The wise deserve the fair!”
They look askance with envious eyes,
As the fiend looked at the first pair
[Ascetic now the lover lives,
Nor dares to touch, nor dares to kiss;
Yet prurient fancy sometimes gives
A prelibation of our bliss.]
From thee my mistress I obtain
A manumission from the power
Of lonely gloom, of fretful pain,
Transported to the Blissful Bower.
Charming cognation! With delight
In the keen aphrodisian spasm,
Shall we reciprocate all night,
While wit and learning leave no chasm?
Nor only are our limbs entwined,
And lip in rapture glued to lip,
Locked in embraces of the mind
Imagination’s sweets we sip.
Five daughters by your former spouse
Shall match with nobles of the land;
The fruit of our more fervant vows
A pillar of the state shall stand !
Greater than Atlas was of yore,
A higher power to me is given;
The earth he on his shoulders bore,
I with my arms encircle heaven!
James Boswell | Hester Lynch Piozzi | Samuel Johnson | Miscellany