And, if to proverbs we resort,
"The days of sorrow ne'er are short."
And here it is but truth to tell,
That our Quæ Genus acted well.
For never, as his duty call'd,
When home affairs were so enthrall'd,
That ere the Winter months would end
There would be no more coin to spend,
Nor credit found to give the swing
To gay manœuvres through the Spring,
He did not from his master's ears
Conceal the state of his affairs;
And though, too oft receiv'd with scorn,
Gave hints, but still they fail'd to warn.
—At length, howe'er, the period came
From fashion's list to blot their name;
When it was vain for pride to look
In the card-rack or porter's book,
While the old guard might sit and snore,
But rarely summon'd to the door;
That door, of late, so seldom quiet
From lounging call or pleasure's riot,
Unless it, with less noisy stir,
Announc'd some threat'ning visiter.
—Encreasing wants began to press,
And all things threaten'd that distress |
Which vanity knows not to bear,
That pride contemplates with despair,
Yet spurns regenerating care; | } |
And a pale demon seems to see
In form of sage œconomy. |
| |
The scene thus drawing to a close,
Friends, aye, and faithful ones arose,
With their best aid to interpose, | } |
And Valcour found, when least expected,
That falling he was not neglected.
For he was lov'd by all who knew
The virtues whence his follies grew;
And some of these so active were
As to preserve him from the snare
Of Us'rer's gripe and Lawyer's strife,
That seem'd to threat his future life.
They did with counsel sage persuade
And brought the ready, golden aid,
Which check'd the powers that did enslave him,
Before it was too late to save him. |
The well-weigh'd scheme which prudence chose
Was rather an unsav'ry dose:
Madam, at first, declar'd it treason;
But humbled pride was taught to reason.
Enough was spar'd to share the dance
And gay festivities of France;
With promise, when five years were o'er,