tress with delight;
When, in a cloud, she veil'd them from my sight.

The painted A----, who appear'd once more,
To do what she'd so often done before,
Approach'd the Altar, to deposite there
Each thought, each action of the finish'd year.
Alone the Lady came,--alone return'd;
None joy'd her presence,--none her absence mourn'd.

Next M---- came, whose pleasing looks disclose
Charms which must soften her severest foes.
Plac'd by her hand upon the Altar, lie
Each _single Item of Oeconomy_;
While her good, easy Lord the rite survey'd,
And ratified the sacrifice she made.
Tho' small the Offering seem'd, in truth, 'twas great;
It was the Fragment of his vast Estate.
E'en FOLLY saw their gay career must end,
But, for their duties past, now prov'd their friend;
And gave a Book that teaches the repair
Of ruin'd Fortunes _in a foreign Air_.

But now advanc'd a melancholy Train:--
In plaintive notes the breathing flutes complain.
And lo! the sorrowing D---- then succeeds,
In all the mournful pomp of Widows' weeds.
I heard her loud lament and bitter moan,
Not for a Husband, but a Title gone.
Close by her side I saw the _illustrious_ Dame
Whom Wits the _Modern Messalina_ name;
Who whisper'd comfort to the mourning Fair,
And told of joys which blooming Widows share;
Whose easy life no haughty ruler knows;
Who, when th' awaken'd passion wanton grows,
May, where her fancy leads, allay the flame,
Nor fear a husband's threats or ruin'd fame.
'Twas thus the BELDAME counsel'd; nor in vain
Did she pour forth th' admonitory strain.

The weeping Fair before the Altar stood,
In all the dignity of Widowhood.
First, from her eyes she wip'd away the tears;
And then the solemn offering prepares.
--Connubial love,--the Altar's sacred tie,-- }
Pure thoughts, chaste words, and many a tender sigh }
Which issued from the breast of virtuous A----ry; }
With golden prospects, and a future claim
To the fair glories of a titled name;
All these, in order plac'd, bedeck the shrine.
--Ill-fated D---- for they once were thine!
Of all this precious treasure nought remains,
But the sad remnant of a Mother's pains.

Then spoke the Queen.--"Fair Dame, dispel your fears,
And stop the fruitless current of your tears!
Tho' Friends may prov