Uploaded November 2018 | Updated September 2026, 2 hours ago
"German Spa" was published by Henry Livingston, Jr, author of "Night Before Christmas" in the New York Magazine of March, 1791 under the pseudonym "R". The set of poems also included one from his handwritten poetry manuscript. "German Spaw Minuet" is in his music manuscript, but we stopped transcribing the book at p132, and German Spa was at p138. Sigh. So I put this poem to "Cotillion Song."
The poem is read by Byron Nilsson, who played Henry in "The Trial Before Christmas." Vintage postcard illustrations.
Shrew'd remarkers often say
Men were formed to betray;
Form'd to fascinate the fair,
Then to plunge them in despair:
Tyrants of creation made,
Prone like tyrants to invade!
Wanting what they can't enjoy,
And to love unknowing.
Feigning rapture when we're by,
Willing at our feet to die:
Vow, the smiles or frowns of fate
On important females wait.
If, unversed in their arts,
We surrender up our hearts;
Cool, they view the sacrifice,
And the maid expiring.
While my heart is yet my own,
Nor my soft affections flown;
Ev'ry passion at command --
Free my heart as free my hand;
Cool, I'll hear the tale of love,
'Till convinc'd, I may approve:
Then I'll fly to meet my swain,
Nor disguise my rapture.
R
"German Spa" was published by Henry Livingston, Jr, author of "Night Before Christmas" in the New York Magazine of March, 1791 under the pseudonym "R". The set of poems also included one from his handwritten poetry manuscript. "German Spaw Minuet" is in his music manuscript, but we stopped transcribing the book at p132, and German Spa was at p138. Sigh. So I put this poem to "Cotillion Song."
The poem is read by Byron Nilsson, who played Henry in "The Trial Before Christmas." Vintage postcard illustrations.
Shrew'd remarkers often say
Men were formed to betray;
Form'd to fascinate the fair,
Then to plunge them in despair:
Tyrants of creation made,
Prone like tyrants to invade!
Wanting what they can't enjoy,
And to love unknowing.
Feigning rapture when we're by,
Willing at our feet to die:
Vow, the smiles or frowns of fate
On important females wait.
If, unversed in their arts,
We surrender up our hearts;
Cool, they view the sacrifice,
And the maid expiring.
While my heart is yet my own,
Nor my soft affections flown;
Ev'ry passion at command --
Free my heart as free my hand;
Cool, I'll hear the tale of love,
'Till convinc'd, I may approve:
Then I'll fly to meet my swain,
Nor disguise my rapture.
R










