Then spoke the Queen.—"Fair Dame, dispel your fears,
And stop the fruitless current of your tears!
Tho' Friends may prove unkind, all are not gone;
Still there remains the virtuous H——ton:
Nor shall the wedded H—— faithless prove,
Or quite forget the proofs of former Love.
Ne'er shall you more lament the name of Wife;
The Widow's joys will crown your future life."

Next filly V——rs, who once had by heart
Each golden rule her Mother could impart;
But since, escap'd from the Maternal School,
Soon learn'd to break through every golden rule,[c]
With her the weeping, whining D—— came,
And the repentant L——'s tasteless Dame.
To these an idle, giggling Train succeed,
Of various figure and as various breed—
Whose mingled faces I had never seen—
Eager to pay their duties to the Queen.
And now before the Shrine, promiscuous, lie
The Morning Blame, the Evening Flattery;
Sonnets, and Sighs, and Garlands from the Grove,
With all the soft Artillery of Love;
Lampoons and Ballads, Jealousies, Alarms,
And all the shafts which blast a Rival's charms;
Volumes of false Reports the Altar load,
Brought up from squint-eyed Scandal's dark abode:
And having yielded their accustom'd sport,
Are duly register'd in Folly's Court.

Now shoals of Damsels to the place repair,
To sacrifice their reputations there;
While others, careful of their own good name,
Give to the gaping crowd a neighbour's fame.
Folly, well-pleas'd, the varied heap survey'd
Of Female Offerings before her laid,
And wav'd her wand:—The Altar disappears;
But strait, at her command, another rears
Its silver base, whose firm, compacted mould
Beam'd with the splendor of contrasted gold;
And many a beauty shew'd, with strength to bear
The weighty tributes to be offer'd there.

Before it stood a modest, blooming Peer,
Who bow'd with easy grace, and offer'd there
Some fine-spun Verses which he never wrote,
Some worthy Speeches which he spoke by rote:
For thus I heard surrounding tongues rehearse,
"H—— wrote the Speeches, H—— composed the Verse."
And soon amid the mingled heap there lay
The blasted wishes for Hibernian sway.
And here he sigh'd, and, as I thought, a tear
Rose in his sullen eye, but linger'd there;
When Folly, pointing to the splendid show
Of Star and Ribbon that bedeck'd the Beau,
"For shame, my Lord, she cried, your doubtings cease!
With such a wish and such a power to please,
As you possess—Oh think not of the strife
And labours of the Politician's life!
Let heavy Carlo feel the toilsome fate
That doth on fruitless Opposition wait!
Let clumsy North, unenvied, still preside
O'er Britain's welfare, and her Counsels guide!
Let purblind Grantham strive, in soothing strain,
To calm the fury of revengeful Spain!
Let gentle Stormont threat intriguing France!
You shine, my Lord, unrival'd in the dance.
'Tis yours, with nimble step and graceful air,
In measur'd mazes, to delight the Fair.
Of all the various arts, how few are known
To gain an excellence in more than one.
What real praises then become your due!
For who can dress and dance so well as you!"
She ceas'd:—In minuet step my Lord retired;
To higher Entre-Chats he now aspir'd:
Then, capering as he went, he hasten'd home,
To plan with St——r Triumphs yet to come.

Now hoary S—— near the Throne appears,
Bent with the follies of full three-score years.
These, heap on heap, the solid Altar grace:
When Folly, sighing, mourn'd his wrinkled face;
And thus in words of consolation spoke:—
"Fear not, my aged Child, the impending stroke

⎧

⎨

⎩

Now on the Altar, reeling, W—— lays
The expectations of his early days;
And talents which, improv'd by Granville's care,
Promis'd a ripe and plenteous crop to bear
Of golden Virtues. But his care was vain:
With these were mingled the accursed bane
Of noble deeds, fell instruments of Vice,
The treacherous Cards and desolating Dice,
Which forc'd the noble Gamester, for support,
To claim the mercies of a pitying Court.

The flatter'd Queen beheld, with laughing eye,
The Offerings of her faithful Votary;
And, in return, she gave a Scroll, which bore
On its smooth face the trusty name of H——,
And other monied Wights, who boast to reign
O'er L——'s flow'ry lawns and proud domain:
Which when he saw, for Wine he call'd aloud,
And stagger'd onward through the yielding Croud.