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Old powerless S—— still essay'd to charm
The Whore that dangled on the Dotard's arm.
Bold P—— made Appointments with the Fair,
Certain he should not meet his Countess there.
Pale G——, as he stroll'd about to chuse
Some unbroke Filly for his favourite Meuse,
Where faithful W——n for his —— ship's gain,
With pliant hand breaks in th' unruly Train,
Fix'd on his frisky Wife,—and, in her eye,
Saw the mild beams of artless Modesty.
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Thus as I gaz'd,—the Hautbois shrieking sound,
With swelling Clarions through the Dome resound;
And, in brisk, airy, measure, lightly play
A Prelude to the business of the day.
The Music ceas'd—and, in a treble tone,
Thus spake the Royal Puppet on the Throne:
"Ye High, ye Low,—ye Vulgar and ye Peers!
Ye youthful Dames, and you of riper Years!
Ye longing Maids, who heave the midnight sigh
Beneath the burthen of Virginity!
Or you, ye stray'd ones, who, unblushing, boast
Your Virtue sullied, and your Honour lost!
Ye Pidgeons, who hold forth the Golden Plume
For Knaves to pluck, and Harlots to consume!
Ye wedded Fair, who, splenetic at home,
Think it the duty of a Wife to roam!
Ye Husbands, from whose cold neglect proceeds
The Cuckold sproutings of your aching heads!
Ye City Wights, who feel it pride to trace
The faded manners of St. James's Place,
'Till with imperial deeds you blend your fame,
And Royal Gazettes propagate your Name!
Ye blazing Patriots who of Freedom boast,
'Till in a gaol your Liberties are lost!
Ye Noble Fair, who, satisfied with Show,
Court the light, frothy flatteries of a Beau!
Ye high-born Peers, whose ardor to excel,
Grows from the beauties of some modish Belle!
Ye jocund Crowd, of every degree,
Welcome, thrice welcome, to this place and me!
—Haste—on the Altar your best offerings leave;
And, in return, my favouring smiles receive!
First let the Peerage come:—'tis my decree
To pay all Honours to Precedency."
At her command, the pressing Crowds retreat:
When D——, uprising from her feat,
With careless gesture to the Altar moves.
Then Virtue shriek'd,—and all the Laughing Loves
That play'd around, droop'd instant with dismay,
And spread their wings, and, weeping, fled away!
The Noble Dame her offering now prepares.—
A Father's counsels, and a Mother's cares.
Upon the Altar's gilded surface lie,
With winning grace, and sweet simplicity;
The gay, yet decent, look; the modest air,
Which loves the brow of Youth, and triumphs there;
The power to give delight, devoid of art,
Which stole unconscious o'er the Lover's heart;
The wish to bless, with all those Virgin charms
Which heighten'd rapture in a Husband's arms;
Each infant friendship, each domestic care,
Each elevated thought was offer'd there.
Nor did the lavish Votary deny
One solid charm,—but chilling Chastity.
Enraptur'd Folly bless'd the lucky hour
That gave so fair a subject to her power.
Nor did the long delay, with circling hand,
To wave around the Fair her magic wand.
When, lo!—the sudden Plumes her temples grac'd;
The yielding Stays sink downwards to the waist;
And, strange to tell, her rosy lips dispense
Double-entendres and Impertinence.
Throughout the Hall a loud applause was heard,
Nor ceas'd till D——'s airy form appear'd.
No common offering she seem'd to bear;
Connubial tenderness,—the watchful care
Which tender Infants from their Mothers claim,
The sage demeanor, and the blameless name
In which High Life should ever be array'd,
Her steady hand upon the Altar laid.