The First of April | Page 6

these, in order plac'd, bedeck the shrine.?--Ill-fated D---- for they once were thine!?Of all this precious treasure nought remains,?But the sad remnant of a Mother's pains.
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?Of loit'ring Fate, which soon may cut in twain }?Thy cable's dwindled strength, and feeble chain, }?And set thy bark afloat upon th' Eternal Main! }?Fear not; but still indulge thy wanton hours,?And strew thy wint'ry path with vernal flowers.?How long thine hours may last, I cannot say;?FOLLY ne'er sees beyond _the present day_.?And should Old Time, with subtle art, delude?Thy feebled Age into decrepitude;?Still on thy crutches sing, and dance, and play,?And gild the close of Life's short Holiday!?No _second Childhood_ can my S---- wear;?The _first_ yet boasts an incomplete career.?Amid the duties of maturer age,?The playful Child was blended with the Sage;?And e'en th' important labours of the State,?The secret Councils, and the deep Debate,?Have oft been left unfinished, to enjoy?Some childish pastime, or some fangled toy,?Then fear not,--tho' thy years are almost past,?_My friendly Ray_ shall chear you to the last."
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.
But, as I look'd, methought, beneath the gate,?Counting