On peut trouver des femmes qui n'ont jamais eu de galanterie, mais il est rare d'en trouver qui n'en aient jamais eu qu'une. — [Reflexions du Duc de la Rochefoucauld, No. lxxiii.]

[First published in the Edition of 1901 from a manuscript in the possession of Mr. Murray.] LADY! in whose heroic port

And Beauty, Victor even of Time, And haughty lineaments, appear

night.

So shall Affection

To recollection

The dear connection

Bring back with joy: You had not waited Till, tired or hated, Your passions sated Began to cloy. Your last embraces Leave no cold traces The same fond faces

As through the past;

And eyes, the mirrors Of your sweet errors,

Wherever human hearts resort

60

To those who watch thee will disclose More than ten thousand tomes of woes Wrung from the vain Romancer's art.

last.

His full Divinity was felt,

IC

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40

Where should the happy Lover be! For him could Time unfold a brighter doom,

Or offer aught like thee?

He in the thickest battle died,
Where Death is Pride;

And Thou his widow - not his bride,
Were 't not more free

Here where all love, till Love is made
A bondage or a trade,

Here- thou so redolent of Beauty,
In whom Caprice had seem'd a duty,
Thou, who couldst trample and despise
The holiest chain of human ties
For him, the dear One in thine eyes,

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60

'And Ireland, like a bastinadoed elephant, kneeling to receive the paltry rider.'-CURRAN.

[This satire was sent in a letter to Moore (September 17, 1821), then in Paris, with the comment: The enclosed lines, as you will directly perceive, are written by the Rev. W. L. Bowles. Of course, it is for him to deny them, if they are not.' Mr. E. H. Coleridge explains that the word "Avatar" is not only applied ironically to George IV. as the "Messiah of Royalty," but metaphorically to the poem, which would descend in the "Capacity of Preserver." The occasion of the satire was an attack on Moore in John Bull, and the servility of the Irish when George IV. entered Dublin in triumph within ten days of the death of Queen Caroline.']

ERE the daughter of Brunswick is cold in her grave,

And her ashes still float to their home

in doubt If she ever gave birth to a being so base.