Her forc'd civilities oppress,
Fatiguing through mere graciousness;
While many a gay, intrepid dame,
By bold assault essay'd the same.
Fill'd with disgust, he strove to fly
The artful glance and fearless eye;
Their jargon now no more he praises,
Nor echoes back their flimsy phrases.
He felt not CELIA's powers of face,
Till weighed against bon-ton grimace;
Nor half her genuine beauties tasted,
'Till with factitious charms contrasted.
Th' industrious harpies hover'd round,
Nor peace nor liberty he found;
By force and flattery circumvented,
To play, reluctant, he consented;
Each Dame her power of pleasing tried,
To fix the novice by her side;
Of Pigeons, he the very best,
Who wealth, with ignorance, possest:
But FLAVIA'S rhetoric best persuades,
That Sybil leads him to the shades;
The fatal leaves around the room,
Prophetic tell th' approaching doom;
Yet, different from the tale of old,
It was the fair one pluck'd the gold;
Her arts the pond'rous purse exhaust ;
A thousand borrow'd, stak'd, and lost,
Wakes him to sense and shame again,
Nor force, nor fraud, could more obtain.
He rose, indignant, to attend

The summons of a ruin'd friend,

Whom keen BELLARIO's arts betray
To all the depths of desperate play;
A thoughtless youth, who near him sat,
Was plunder'd of his whole estate;
Too late he call'd for FLORIO's aid,
A beggar in a moment made.

And now, with horror, FLORIO views
The wild confusion which ensues;
Marks how the Dames, of late so fair,
Assume a fierce demoniac air;

Marks where th' infernal furies hold
Their orgies foul o'er heaps of gold;
And spirits dire appear to rise,
Guarding the horrid mysteries;
Marks how deforming passions tear
The bosoms of the losing fair;

How looks convuls'd, and hagger'd faces,
Chase the scar'd Loves, and frighten❜d Graces;
Touch'd with disdain, with horror fir'd,
CELIA! he murmur'd, and retir❜d.

That night no sleep his eyelids prest:
He thought; and thought's a foe to rest:
Or if, by chance, he clos'd his eyes,
What hideous spectres round him rise!
Distemper'd Fancy wildly brings
The broken images of things;

His ruin'd friend, with eye-ball fixt,
Swallowing the draught Despair had mixt;
The frantic wife beside him stands,
With bursting heart, and wringing hands;
And every horror dreams bestow,
Of pining Want, or raving Woe.

Next morn, to check, or cherish thought,
His Library's retreat he sought;

He view'd each book, with cold regard,
Of serious sage, or lighter bard;
At length, among the motley band,
The IDLER fell into his hand;
Th' alluring title caught his eye,
It promis'd cold inanity :

He read with rapture and surprise,

And found 'twas pleasant, though 'twas wise;

His tea grew cold, whilst he, unheeding,

Pursu'd this reasonable reading.

He wonder'd at the change he found,
Th' elastic spirits nimbly bound;
Time slipt, without disgust, away,
While many a card unanswer'd lay;
Three papers, reeking from the press,
Three Phamplets thin, in azure dress,
Ephemeral literature well known,
The lie and scandal of the town:
Poison of letters, morals, time!
Assassin of our day's fresh prime !
These, on his table, half the day,
Unthought of, and neglected lay.

FLORIO had now full three hours read,
Hours which he us'd to waste in bed;
His pulse beat Virtue's vigorous tone,
The reason to himself unknown;
And if he stopp'd to seek the cause,
Fair CELIA's image fill'd the pause.

And now, announc'd, BELLARIO's name Had almost quench'd the new-born flame :

"Admit him," was the ready word
Which first escap'd him, not unheard;
When sudden, to his mental sight,

Up rose the horrors of last night;
His plunder'd friend before him stands,
And not at home," his firm commands.
He felt the conquest as a joy

The first temptation would destroy.

He knew next day that Hymen's hand,
Would tack the slight and slippery band,
Which, in loose bondage, would ensnare
BELLARIO bright and FLAVIA fair.
Oft had he promis'd to attend
The Nuptials of his happy friend :
To go-to stay — alike he fears;
At length a bolder flight he dares;
TO CELIA he resolves to fly,

And catch fresh virtue from her eye;

Though three full weeks did yet remain,
Ere he engag'd to come again.
This plan he tremblingly embrac’d,
With doubtful zeal and fluttering haste;
Nor ventur'd he one card to read,
Which might his virtuous scheme impede;
Each note, he dreaded, might betray him,
And shudder'd lest each rap should stay him.
Behold him seated in his chaise,

With face that self-distrust betrays;
He hazards not a single glance,

Nor through the glasses peeps by chance,
Lest some old friend, or haunt well known,

Should melt his resolution down.

Fast as his foaming coursers fly,
Hyde-Park attracts his half-rais'd eye;
He steals one fearful conscious look,
Then drops his eye upon his book.
Triumphant he persists to go;
But gives one sigh to Rotten Row.
Long as he view'd AUGUSTA's tow'rs,
The sight relax'd his thinking pow'rs;
In vain he better plans revolves,
While the soft scene his soul dissolves;
The tow'rs once lost, his view he bends,
Where the receding smoke ascends;
But when nor smoke, nor tow'rs arise,
To charm his heart or cheat his eyes;
When once he got entirely clear
From this enfeebling atmosphere;
His mind was brac'd, his spirits light,
His heart was gay, his humour bright;
Thus feeling, at his inmost soul,
The sweet reward of self-control.
Impatient now, and all alive,

He thought he never should arrive;
At last he spies Sir GILBERT's trees;
Now the near battlements he sees;
The gates he enter'd with delight,
And, self announc'd, embrac'd the knight:
The youth his joy unfeign'd exprest,
The knight with joy receiv'd his guest,
And own'd, with no unwilling tongue,
'Twas done like men when he was young.
Three weeks subducted, went to prove,
A feeling like old-fashion❜d love.