On the first marching of the troops, So Rumour says: (Who will believe,) Short was his joy. He little knew The words too eager to unriddle, The Poet felt a strange disorder; Transparent bird-lime form'd the middle, And chains invisible the border. So cunning was the Apparatus, The powerful pot-hooks did so move him, That, will he, nill he, to the Great House He went, as if the Devil drove him. Yet on his way (no sign of grace, And begg'd his aid that dreadful day. The Godhead wou'd have back'd his quarrel; But with a blush on recollection, Own'd, that his quiver and his laurel 'Gainst four such eyes were no protection. The Court was sate, the Culprit there, Forth from their gloomy mansions creeping The Lady Janes and Joans repair, And from the gallery stand peeping: Such as in silence of the night Come (sweep) along some winding entry, (Styack (n) has often seen the sight) Or at the chapel-door stand centry: In peaked hoods and mantles tarnish'd, (n) The Housekeeper. The Peeress comes. The audience stare, And doff their hats with due submission: She curtsies, as she takes the chair, To all the people of condition. The Bard, with many an artful fib, And all that Groom (p) could urge against him.. But soon his rhetoric forsook him, When he the solemn hall had seen; A sudden fit of ague shook him, He stood as mute as poor Macleane (q). Yet something he was heard to mutter, (0) Groom of the Chamber. (P) The Steward. (q) A famous highwayman hanged the week before. He once or twice had penn'd a sonnet; "Yet hop'd, that he might save his bacon: "Numbers would give their oaths upon it, "He ne'er was for a conj'rer taken." The ghostly prudes with hagged face My Lady rose, and with a grace— "Jesu-Maria! Madam Bridget, 66 Why, what can the Viscountess mean? (Cried the square-hoods in woeful fidget) "The times are alter'd quite and clean! "Decorum's turn'd to mere civility; "Her air and all her manners show it. " Commend me to her affability! Speak to a Commoner and Poet!" [Here 500 Stanzas are lost.] |