On a Lady mistaking a Dying Trader for a Dying Lover. On Mrs. Lowther, Lord Lonsdale's Sister

On Mrs. Lowther, Lord Lonsdale's Sister

As Chloris on her downy Pillow lay,
'Twixt sleep and wake the morning slid away,
Soft at her Chamber door a tap she heard,
She listen'd, and again; no one appear'd.
Who's there? the sprightly Nymph with courage cries.
Ma'am, 'tis one who for your La'ship dies .
Sure 'Tis delusion! what, a dying Lover?
Yet speak once more, what is't you say however.
A second time, these Accents pierc'd the air;
Sweet was the sound, transported was the Fair.
At length mankind are just, her La'ship said,
Threw on her Gown, and steping out of Bed
Look'd in her Glass, confess'd him in the right.
Who thinks me not a Beauty, 'tis meer spight.
" Assemble you Coquets! with envy burn
" To see the wonders that my eyes have done.
" In vain your pert and forward airs you try,
" Mankind the more you Court the farther fly,
" And 'tis for me and only me they dye.
But how shall I receive him? cry'd the dame,
Prudence allows not pitty, I must blame.
Perhaps poor Soul! has sigh'd in Secret long
E'er the presumptuous thought fell from his tongue.
I am the cause, yet Innocent by Heav'n,
Why were these Eyes for such destruction giv'n?
'Tis not my fault, I did not make one feature."
Then turn'd the look to view the dying Creature.
But ah! who should the enamour'd Swain now prove?
A wretch who dyes by Trade and not by Love.
No mortal pen can figure her surprize,
Willing to trust her Ears but not her Eyes,
The approaching Storm her swelling bosom show'd,
A while now pale, then Red with anger glow'd.
She wept, she rav'd, invok'd the powers above
Who give no Ear when old Maids talk of Love,
Fruitless her prayers and impotent her rage
Yet fierce as when two Females do engage.
At length the fire was spent, all was serene,
A calm succeeded this tempestuous Scene,
And thus She spoke.
" Ye blooming Maids! let my example prove
" How oft your Sex mistaken are in Love.
" When young we're cruel and with beauty play
" Which while we vainly Parly fades away,
" When old, to'increase the rigour of our fate,
" We wish and talk of Lovers when too late.
" As idle travellers who've lost the day
" And hope in Night thro shades to find the way,
" Forlorn they tread the thorny paths in vain,
" Not of themselves but their hard fate complain,
" So peevish Maids when past their youthful bloom
" On sad remains and fancy'd charms presume,
" Lonely they wander, no companion find,
" Then rail and quarrel with all humankind.
" But let us to our selves for once be just
" And see our own decays and wrinkles first,
" When e'er to melting sighs we lend an ear
" Think youth and beauty make the Man sincere,
" No other powers their stubborn hearts can move,
" Did ever Vertue light the torch of Love?
" From sad experience I this truth declare,
" I'm now abandon'd, tho I once was Fair."
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