The first and last from Greece transplanted,

Us'd here because the rhyme I wanted:
How pheasant's heads, with cost collected,
And Phenicopters' stood neglected,
To laugh at SCIPIO's lucky hit,

POMPEY'S bon-mot, or CÆSAR's wit!
Intemperance, list'ning to the tale,
Forgot the Mullet growing stale;
And Admiration, balanc'd, hung

"Twixt PEACOCKS' brains, and TULLY's tongue.

I shall not stop to dwell on these,

But be as epic as I please,

And plunge at once in medias res.

To prove the privilege I plead,

I'll quote some Greek I cannot read ;
Stunn'd by Authority you yield,

And I, not reason, keep the field.
Long was Society o'er-run

By Whist, that desolating Hun;
Long did Quadrille despotic sit,
That Vandal of colloquial wit;
And Conversation's setting light
Lay half-obscur'd in Gothic night.
At length the mental shades decline,
Colloquial wit begins to shine;
Genius prevails, and Conversation
Emerges into Reformation.

The vanquish'd triple crown to you,
BOSCAWEN sage, bright MONTAGU,

* Seneca says, that in his time the Romans were arrived at such a pitch of luxury, that the Mullet was reckoned stale which did not die in the hands of the guest.

Divided, fell;

-

your cares in haste
Rescued the ravag'd realms of Taste;
And LYTTELTON's accomplish'd name,
And witty PULTENEY shar'd the fame;
The Men not bound by pedant rules,
Nor Ladies* Précieuses ridicules;
For polish'd WALPOLE show'd the way,
How wits may be both learn'd and gay;
And CARTER taught the female train,
The deeply wise are never vain ;

And she who SHAKSPEARE'S wrongs redrest,
Prov'd that the brightest are the best.
This just deduction still they drew,
And well they practis'd what they knew ;
Nor taste, nor wit, deserves applause,
Unless still true to Critic laws;
Good sense, of faculties the best,
Inspire and regulate the rest.

Oh! how unlike the wit that fell,
RAMBOUILLET! + at thy quaint Hotel;

* See MOLIERE's Comedy.

The Society at the Hôtel de RAMBOUILLET, though composed of the most polite and ingenious persons in France, was much tainted with affectation and false taste. See VOITURE, MÉNAGE, &c.

The late Earl of MANSFIELD told the Author, that when he was Ambassador at Paris, he was assured that it had not been unusual for those persons of a purer taste, who frequented these Assemblies, to come out from their Society so weary of wit and laboured ingenuity, that they used to express the comfort they felt in their emancipation, by saying, Allons! faisons des solécismes!"

Where point, and turn, and équivoque,
Distorted every word they spoke!
All so intolerably bright,

Plain Common Sense was put to flight;
Each speaker, so ingenious ever,

"Twas tiresome to be quite so clever;
There twisted Wit forgot to please,
And Mood and Figure banish'd ease:
No votive altar smok'd to thee,
Chaste Queen, divine Simplicity!
But forc'd Conceit, which ever fails,
And stiff Antithesis prevails;
Uneasy rivalry destroys

Society's unlabour'd joys:

NATURE, of stilts and fetters tir'd,
Impatient from the Wits retir'd;
Long time the Exile houseless stray'd,
Till SÉVIGNÉ receiv'd the maid.

Though here she comes to bless our isle,

Not universal is her smile.

Muse! snatch the lyre which CAMBRIDGE strung,

When he the empty ball-room sung;

'Tis tun'd above thy pitch, I doubt,

And thou no music wouldst draw out:
Yet, in a lower note, presume

To sing the full dull Drawing-room.

Where the dire Circle keeps its station,

Each common phrase is an oration;
And cracking fans, and whisp'ring Misses,
Compose their Conversation blisses.

These dull and formal parties now scarcely exist, having been swallowed up in the reigning multitudinous Assemblies.

The matron marks the goodly show,
While the tall daughter eyes the Beau-
The frigid Beau! Ah! luckless fair,
'Tis not for you that studied air;
Ah! not for you that sidelong glance,
And all that charming nonchalance;
Ah! not for you the three long hours
He worshipp'd the Cosmetic powers;
That finish'd head which breathes perfume,
And kills the nerves of half the room;
And all the murders meant to lie
In that large, languishing, grey eye;
Desist less wild th' attempt would be,
To warm the snows of Rhodope:
Too cold to feel, too proud to feign,
For him you're wise and fair in vain;
In vain to charm him you intend,
Self is his object, aim, and end.

Chill shade of that affected Peer,
Who dreaded Mirth, come safely here!
For here no vulgar joy effaces

Thy rage for polish, ton, and graces.
Cold Ceremony's leaden hand

Waves o'er the room her poppy wand;
Arrives the stranger; every guest
Conspires to torture the distrest;
At once they rise—so have I seen
You guess the simile I mean,
Take what comparison you please,
The crowded streets, the swarming bees,
The pebbles on the shores that lie,

The stars which form the galaxy;

These serve t' embellish what is said,
And show, besides, that one has read;-
At once they rise — th' astonish'd guest
Back in a corner slinks, distrest;
Scar'd at the many bowing round,
And shock'd at her own voice's sound,
Forgot the thing she meant to say,
Her words, half-utter'd, die away;
In sweet oblivion down she sinks,
And of her next appointment thinks.
While her loud neighbour on the right,
Boasts what she has to do to-night;
So very much, you'd swear her pride is
To match the labours of ALCIDES;
'Tis true, in hyperbolic measure,
She nobly calls her labours Pleasure;
In this unlike ALCMENA's son,

She never means they should be done;
Her fancy of no limits dreams,

No ne plus ultra stops her schemes;

Twelve! she'd have scorn'd the paltry round,

No Pillars would have mark'd her bound;
CALPE and ABYLA, in vain

Had nodded cross th' opposing main;

A circumnavigator she

On Ton's illimitable sea.

We pass the pleasures vast and various,
Of Routs, not social, but gregarious;
Where high heroic self-denial
Sustains her self-inflicted trial.
Day lab'rors! what an easy life,
To feed ten children and a wife!