Classic Poem

A tower there is, where six Maidens do dwell;
This Tow'r it belongs to the Dev'l of Hell;
And sure of all Devils this must be the best,
Who by six such fair Maidens at once is possest.

So bright are their beauties, so charming their eyes,
As in spite of his Fall, might make Lucifer rise;
But then they're so blithe and so buxome withall,
As, tho ten Devils rose, they could make them to fall.

Ah why, good Lord Grantham, were you so uncivil
To send at a dash all these Nymphs to the Devil?
And yet why, Madam Dives, at your lot should you stare?
'Tis known all the Dives's ever went there.

There, Mordaunt, Fitzwilliams, &c. remain;
(I promis'd I never would mention Miss Vane.)
Ev'n Cart'ret and Meadows, so pure of desires,
Are lump'd with the rest of these charming Hell fires.

O! sure to King George 'tis a dismal disaster,
To see his own Maids serve a new Lord and Master.
Yet this, like their old one, for nothing will spare,
And treateth them all, like a Prince of the Air.

Who climbs these High Seats oh his joy shall be great!
Tho strait be the passage, and narrow the Gate;
And who now of his Court, to this place would not go,
Prepard for the Devil and his Angells also?