Classic Poem

Reduc'd by fate and air-built schemes,
From prospects fine and golden dreams,
With native confidence tho' poor,
Young Merit knock'd at Fortune 's door.
 'Twas after dinner, and my lady
Was at her toilet getting ready,
To go old Niggles's rout,
By nine or ten or thereabout.
For a night' pleasures, it is said
Begin when half the town' in bed;
And as to work the vulgar rise
But few of these have clos'd their eyes;
Day is their night, and night their day,
So order'd by the laws of play;
And quality would sooner break,
The laws of honor, than forsake
Those laws which for themselves they made,
Tho' virtue lose and beauty fade.

 Now from the window or the area,
Peep'd forth a servant, Tom, or Mary;
and seeing Merit poor and thin.
“Cry'd, damn him let him knock again;
“He looks like some low polititian,
“And grings to Fortune a petition;
“But what's that to you or me,
“Unless he could advance the fee?”

  Merit as standing at the gate
By accident o'er heard their prate
To see the lady being willing,
Held out his last, his only shilling;
This sign prevail'd, when entre nous ,
The folding doors wide open flew;
Where Fortune sat in all her pride,
With lady Fashion at her side;
Merit began—“illustrious dame,
“No doubt you've heard of Merit 's name,
“In ancient times my fame was great,
“But by ill chance reduced of late;
“From you I beg a trifling bounty,
“From you the richest in the county;
“And ever with a grateful spirit,
“I'll bless the hand that helped Merit .

 Mr. a——what's your name? I'm sorry
At present I am in a hurry,
And cash now is not in the way,
I had bad luck last night at play;
Beside, my finer Fashion here,
Wants more than I just now can spare;
When she is serv'd—I'll think—and then—
Another day——you'll call again;
Here Tom! —your servant— Bring the chair in ,
These French silks are the pretiest wearing;
To lady Niggle's haste away,
Excuse me Sir—I cannot stay.

  Folly and Fashion must be serv'd,
While Merit is too often stary'd.