To aid the treason other foes advance,
Who, disappointed of the expected dance,
Shout, "deadly vengeance" on the hapless wight,
For all the blasted pleasures of the night.
In vain the astonish'd monarch "Order" cries;
Entreats their pity; bids them spare his eyes;
Attempts the medal in his breast to hide,
In happier times his safety and his pride;
In vain; with louder shouts the walls resound;
The bold, rebellious crew, their KING surround;
And quickly lay him prostrate on the ground'.
Well sings the moral bard3 in pensive strain,
The many drawbacks on the brightest reign;
"The glories of our birth and state
Are shadows, not substantial things,
There is no armour against fate;"
Misfortune reaches e'en the best of KINGS;
7 Ριψε δε μιν θυμω αναχοντ' ες ταρταρον εύρον.
• See a fine moral poem of James Shirley's (Death's final Conquest). Percy's Relicks of Ancient English Poetry, vol. i. page 270.
And, pell-mell, helter-skelter, ran away,
That they might live to fight another day;
Leaving the foe to judge how dire a thing
It was t'
ť'oppose the offspring of a king.)
No sooner did the joyful news arrive,
That prince and army were come back alive,
Than Englishmen, their triumph to express,
Crowd round the throne, with many a long address;
And jingling bells, and wide illumination,
Proclaim the victory throughout the nation.
Then, Mr. PUFF, by common vote appointed,
Presents his parchment to the Lord's anointed;
First kisses hands; drops down upon his knee,
And rises up the great sir TIMOTHY.
E'er since, the lady of our paltry knight
The shop forgets: affects to be polite;
And, her low breed the better to conceal,
Intrudes herself 'mongst company genteel.
But, will you sanction such impertinence?—
Forbid it, all the laws of consequence!—
No! instantly avenge her bold intrusion,
By throwing RAMROD's ball into confusion."
So spake the fiend; and saying thus, inspires
The titled dame with her own hellish fires:
Then turning, mingles with the circle gay
To spit fresh venom, and promote a fray.
As a gay courser of the racing brood,
Noble in pedigree, and high with food,
If tortur'd by provoking gadflies' stings,
Madden'd with rage, o'er hedge and ditches springs,
And foams, and kicks, and neighs, and snorts the while, Indignant at th' assault of foe so vile:
So, the strange story of the fury dire
Sets lady LOFTY's bosom all on fire;
She bites her lips; with rage her pulse beats high;
Insulted dignity inflames her eye;
And scarce the lace restrains her swelling breast,
As thus the fair Rattana" she address'd;
"Gods! do we live the day to see, Of such disastrous prodigy,
When RAMROD thus forgets his duty
To blood, to pedigree, and beauty,
And places on the title-bench
A city-tradesman's ugly wench;
The wife of a tobacconist,
Dealer in pig-tail, shag, and twist;
Who long attended in the shop,
The dinner cook'd, and turn'd the mop;
But, late, by dirty knighthood fir'd,
Has to good company aspir'd;
And now asserts a dignity,
Confin'd to rank and family?
Say, shall we sanction such abuse?
'Tis true, our monarch has his use;
But this departure from all rule
Proclaims him either knave or fool;
And justifies each dame of spirit
The blockhead straight to disinherit:
To strip the medal from his breast;
And one, more worthy, to invest
With all the honours he assumes,
As monarch of the Upper-rooms."
"Your ladyship is right;" the fair returns, Whilst indignation in her bosom burns
"Not less than hurling RAMROD from his throne
For such atrocious conduct can atone.
My bosom lab'ring with insulted pride
Leaves vacancy within for nought beside";
And thoughts of vengeance rising in my soul,
All other wishes, hopes, and thoughts controul.
Shall I, who now for thirty years and more
Have (constant) honour'd, grac'd, and trode this floor;
Except the season when my lap-dog fell,
And fix'd me to my room to weep Fidel9;
I, who've so long been sooth'd with 'pretty things,' And claim'd the homage of two prior kings;
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