XLIV. The circle smiled, then whisper'd, and then sneer'd; The Misses bridled, and the matrons frown'd; Some hoped things might not turn out as they fear'd; Some would not deem such women could be found; Some ne'er believed one half of what they heard; Some look'd perplex'd, and others look'd profound; And several pitied with sincere regret Poor Lord Augustus Fitz-Plantagenet. XLV. But what is odd, none ever named the duke, Her gaieties, none had a right to stare: XLVI. But, oh! that I should ever pen so sad a line! Look'd grave and pale to see her friend's fragility, XLVII. There's nought in this bad world like sympathy And robes sweet friendship in a Brussels lace. To hunt our errors up with a good grace? Consoling us with-" Would you had thought twice! Ah! if you had but follow'd my advice!" XLVIII. O Job! you had two friends: one's quite enough, Especially when we are ill at ease; They are but bad pilots when the weather's rough, Doctors less famous for their cures than fees. Let no man grumble when his friends fall off, As they will do like leaves at the first breeze: When your affairs come round, one way or t'other, Go to the coffee-house, and take another. (1) XLIX. But this is not my maxim: had it been, [not Some heart-aches had been spared me: yet I care I would not be a tortoise in his screen [not. Of stubborn shell, which waves and weather wear (1) In Swift's or Horace Walpole's letters I think it is mentioned that somebody, regretting the loss of a friend, was answered by an universal Pylades: "When I lose one, I go to the Saint James's Coffee-house, and take another." I recollect having heard an anecdote of the same kind. Sir W. D. was a great gamester. Coming in one day to the club of which he was a member, he was observed to look melancholy. "What is the matter, Sir William ?" cried Hare, of facetious memory. "Ah!" replied Sir W., "I have just lost poor Lady D."-" Lost! What at? Quinze ar Hazard?" was the consolatory rejoinder of the querist. 'Tis better on the whole to have fel. and seen That which humanity may bear, or bear not: "Twill teach discernment to the sensitive, And not to pour their ocean in a sieve. L. Of all the horrid, hideous notes of woe, Own they foresaw that you would fall at last, And solace your slight lapse 'gainst " bonos mores,” With a long memorandum of old stories. LI. The Lady Adeline's serene severity Was not confined to feeling for her friend, But mix'd with pity, pure as e'er was penn'd: His inexperience moved her gentle ruth, LII. These forty days' advantage of her years And hers were those which can face calculation, Boldly referring to the list of peers And noble births, nor dread the enumeration Gave her a right to have maternal fears This LIII. may be fix'd at somewhere before thirtySay seven-and-twenty; for I never knew The strictest in chronology and virtue Advance beyond, while they could pass for new. O Time! why dost not pause? Thy scythe, so dirty With rust, should surely cease to hack and hew. Reset it; shave more smoothly, also slower, If but to keep thy credit as a mower. LIV. But Adeline was far from that ripe age, My Muse despises reference, as you have guess'd By this time ;-but strike six from seven-and-twenty, And you will find her sum of years in plenty. LV. At sixteen she came out; presented, vaunted, At eighteen, though below her feet still panted She had consented to create again That Adam, called "The happiest of men." LVJ. Since then she had sparkled through three glowing LVII. Fondly the wheeling fire-flies flew around her, Those little glitterers of the London night; But none of these possess'd a sting to wound herShe was a pitch beyond a coxcomb's flight. Perhaps she wish'd an aspirant profounder ; But whatsoe'er she wish'd, she acted right; And whether coldness, pride, or virtue, dignify A woman, so she's good, what does it signify? LVIII. I hate a motive, like a lingering bottle Which with the landlord makes too long a stand, Leaving all-claretless the unmoisten'd throttle, Especially with politics on hand; |