TO THE COUNTRESS OF EGREMONT .

Virtue and Fame the other day
Happen'd to cross each other's way;
Said Virtue, " Hark ye, Madam Fame!
" Your Ladyship is much to blame;
" Jove bids you always wait on me,
" And yet your face I seldom see:
" The Paphian queen employs your trumpet,
" And bids it praise some handsome strumpet,
" Or thund'ring thro' the ranks of war
" Ambition ties you to her car. "
Saith Fame, " Dear Madam! I protest
" I never find myself so blest
" As when I humbly wait behind you;
" But it is so mighty hard to find you,
" In such obscure retreats you lurk,
" To seek you is an endless work. "
" Well, " answer'd Virtue, " I allow
" Your plea; but hear, and mark me now.
" I know, (without offence to others)
" I know the best of wives and mothers,
" Who never pass'd an useless day
" In scandal, gossiping, or play,
" Whose modest wit chastis'd by sense
" In lively cheerful innocence,
" Whose heart nor envy knows nor spite,
" Whose duty is her sole delight,
" Nor rul'd by whim nor slave to fashion,
" Her parents' joy, her husband's passion. "
Fame smil'd, and answer'd; " On my life
" This is some country parson's wife
" Who never saw the Court nor Town,
" Whose face is homely as her gown,
" Who banquets upon eggs and bacon — "
" No, Madam, no — you 're much mistaken —
" I beg you'll let me set you right —
" 'Tis one with ev'ry beauty bright,
" Adorn'd with ev'ry polish'd art
" That rank or fortune can impart;
" 'Tis the most celebrated toast
" That Britain's spacious isle can boast;
" 'Tis princely Petworth's noble dame,
" 'Tis Egremont — Go tell it Fame. "