And boldly, when his country is at stake,
Braves the deep gulph, like Curtius, for its fake.
Quickly again diftrefs'd for want of coin,
He digs no longer in th' exhausted mine;
But feeks preferment, as the last resort,
Cringes each morn at levees, bows at court,
And from the hand he hates implores fupport:
The minifter, well pleas'd at finall expence
To filence fo much rude impertinence,
With fqueeze and whisper yields to his demands,
And on the venal lift enroll'd he ftands;
A ribband and a pension by the flave,
This bribes the fool about him, that the knave.
And now arriv'd at his meridian glory,
He finks apace, defpis'd by Whig and Tory;
Of independence now he talks no more,
Nor shakes the fenate with his patriot roar,
But filent votes, and with court trappings hung,
Eyes his own glitt'ring ftar, and holds his tongue.
In craft political a bankrupt made,
He sticks to gaming, as the furer trade ;
Turns downright sharper, lives by fucking blood,
And grows, in fhort, the very thing he wou'd :
Hunts out young heirs, who have their fortunes fpent,
And lends them ready cash at cent. per cent.;
Lays wagers on his own and others lives,
Fights uncles, fathers, grandmothers and wives;
Till death at length, indignant to be made
The daily fubject of his sport and trade,
Veils with his fable hand the wretch's eyes,
And, groaning for the betts he loses by't, dies.
KILL'D in each art, that can adorn the fair,
The fprightly dance, the foft Italian air,
The tofs of quality, and high-bred fleer,
Now lady Harriot reach'd her fifteenth year.
Wing'd with diverfions all her moments flew,
Each, as it pafs'd, prefenting fomething new;
Breakfafts and auctions wear the morn away,
Each ev'ning, gives an opera, or a play;
Then Brag's eternal joys all night remain,
And kindly usher in the morn again.
For love no time has fhe, or inclination,
Yet must coquet it for the fake of fashion;
For this fhe liftens to each fop that's near,
Th' embroider'd col'nel flatters with a fneer,
And the cropt enfign nuzzles in her ear.
But with most warmth her dress and airs inspire
Th' ambitious bofom of the landed squire,
Who fain would quit plump Dolly's fofter charms
For wither'd lean right honourable arms;
He bows with rev'rence at her facred shrine,
And treats her as if sprung from race divine,
Which she returns with infolence and scorn,
Nor deigns to fmile on a plebeian born..
'Ere long by friends, by cards, and lovers crofs'd,
Her fortune, health, and reputation loft:
Her money gone, yet not a tradesman paid ;
Her fame, yet she still damn'd to be a maid;
Her fpirits fink, her nerves are fo unftrung,
She weeps, if but a handsome thief is hung:
By mercers, lacemen, mantua-makers prefs'd,.
But most for ready cash for play diftrefs'd,
Where can fhe turn the fquire must all repair,
She condescends to liften to his pray'r,
And marries him at length in mere despair.
But foon th' endearments of a husband cloy,
Her foul, her frame incapable of joy :
She feels no transports in the bridal bed,
Of which fo oft fh' has heard, fo much has read;
Then vex'd, that she should be condemn'd alone
To feek in vain this philofophic ftone,.
To abler tutors fhe refolves t' apply,,
A prostitute from curiofity:
Hence men of ev'ry fort, and ev'ry fize,
Impatient for heav'n's cordial drop, fhe tries;
The fribbling beau, the rough unweildy clown,
The ruddy templar newly on the town,
Th' Hibernian captain of gigantic make,
The brimful parfon, and th' exhausted rake.
But ftill malignant fate her with denics, Cards yield fuperior joys, to cards she flies; All night from rout to rout her chairmen run, Again the plays, and is again undone.
Behold her now in Ruin's frightful jaws !
Bonds, judgments, executions, ope their paws,
Seize jewels, furniture, and plate, nor spare
The gilded chariot, or the taffel'd chair,
For lonely feat fhe's forc'd to quit the town,
And Tubbs conveys the wretched exile down.
Now rumbling o'er the ftones of Tyburn-road,
Ne'er prefs'd with a more griev'd or guilty load,
She bids adieu to all the well-known ftreets,
And envies ev'ry cinder-wench fhe meets:
And now the dreaded country firft appears,
With fighs unfeign'd the dying noise the hears
Of diftant coaches fainter by degrees,
Then starts, and trembles at the fight of trees.
Silent and fullen, like fome captive queen,
She's drawn along, unwilling to be feen,
Until at length appears the ruin'd hall
Within the grafs-green moat, and ivy'd wall,
The doleful prifon where for ever fhe,
But not, alas! her griefs, must bury'd be.
Her coach the curate and the tradefmen meet,
Great-coated tenants her arrival greet,
And boys with ftubble bonfires light the street,
While bells her ears with tongues difcordant grate,
Types of the nuptial ties they celebrate :
But no rejoicings can unbend her brow,
Nor deigns fhe to return one awkward bow,
But bounces in disdaining once to speak,
And wipes the trickling tear from off her cheek.
Now fee her in the fad decline of life,
A peevish mistress, and a fulky wife;
Her nerves unbrac'd, her faded cheek grown pale
With many a real, many a fancy'd ail;
Of cards, admirers, equipage bereft,
Her infolence and title only left;
Severely humbled to her one-horfe chair,
And the low paftimes of a country-fair :
Too wretched to endure one lonely day,
Too proud one friendly vifit to repay,
Too indolent to read, too criminal to pray.
At length half-dead, half mad, and quite confin'd,
Shunning, and shunn'd by all of human kind,
Ev'n robb'd of the laft comfort of her life,
Infulting the poor curate's callous wife,
Pride, disappointed pride, now stops her breath,
And with true fcorpion rage fhe ftings herself to death.
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