Family Portraits - Anna Maria Lenngren

Upon an old estate, her father's heritage, 
A shrivelled countess dowager 
Had vegetated half an age; 
She drank her tea mingled with elderflowers. 
By aching bones foretold the weather. 
Scolded at times, but not for long together. 
And mostly yawned away her hours. 
One day, (God knows how such things should occur!) 
Sitting beside her chambermaid 
In her saloon, whose walls displayed 
Gilt leather hangings, and the pictured face 
Of many a member of her noble race. 
She pondered thus: "I almost doubt 
Whether, if I could condescend 
Some talk on this dull wench to spend. 
It might not call my thoughts off from my gout; 
And, though the malkin cannot comprehend 
The charms of polished conversation, 
'T will give my lungs some exercise; 
And then the goosecap's admiration 
Of my descent to ecstasy must rise." — 
 

"Susan," she said, "you sweep this drawing-room. 
And sweep it almost every day; 
You see these pictures, yet your looks betray 
You're absolutely ignorant whom 
You clear from cobwebs with your broom. 
Now, mind! That's my great grandsire to the right, 
The learned and travelled president, 
Who knew the Greek and Latin names of flies. 
And to the Academy, in form polite. 
Was pleased an earthworm to present 
That he from India brought; a prize 
Well worth its weight in gold. — 

That next him, in the corner hung by chance. 
The ensign is, my dear, lost, only son, 
A pattern in the graces of the dance, 
My pride and hope, and all the family's. 
Seven sorts of riding-whips did he invent; 
But sitting by the window caught a cold. 
And so his honorable race was run. 
He soon shall have a marble monument. — 
 

Now, my good girl, observe that other, 
The countess grandam of my lady mother. 
A beauty in her time famed far and near; 
On Queen Christina's coronation-day, 
She helped her majesty, they say, — 
And truly, no false tale you hear, — 
To tie her under-petticoat. — 
The lady whose manteau you note 
Was my great aunt. Beside her see 
That ancient noble in the long simar; 
An uncle of the family, 
Who once played chess with Russia's mighty czar. — 

That portrait further to the left 
Is the late colonel, my dear wedded lord; 
His equal shall the earth, of him bereft. 
In partridge-shooting never more afford! — 
 

But now observe the lovely dame 
In yonder splendid oval frame. 
Whose swelling bosom bears a rose; — 
Not that one, ninny; — look this way; — 
What haughtiness those eyes display! 
How nobly aquiline that nose! 
King Frederick once was by her beauty caught; 
But she was virtue's self, fired as she ought, 
And scolded, reverently, the royal youth. 
Till, utterly confused, he cried, 'My charmer, 
Your virtue 's positively cased in armor!' 
Many can yet attest this story's truth. 
Well, Susan, do you know the lady now? 
What! don't you recognize my lofty brow?" 
But, "Lord have mercy on me!" Susan cries. 
And scissors, needle, thread, lets slip; 
"Could that be ever like your ladyship.' " — 
"What I what!" the countess screams, with flashing eyes; 
"Could that be like me.' Idiot! Nincompoop! 
Out of my doors, with all thy trumpery! 
Intolerable! But so must it be. 
If with such creatures to converse we stoop." 
A gouty twinge then seized the countess' toe, 
And of her history that 's all I know.

---

Anna Maria Lenngren (1754 - 1817) Sweden

Translator not stated

Source: The poets and poetry of Europe. With introductions and biograpical notices, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Carey and Hart, 1845