She ponders on what perils may befall,
And fondly deems her mind a match for all.
Ah, lovely nymph! this dangerous pride forego;
Pride may betray-security's thy foe.
While fancied prudence thus, a foreign guest,
Sits doubly cherish'd in Serena's breast,
Behold a billet her attention steal,
No common arms compose its ample seal;
Th' unfolding paper breathes a roseate scent,
Sweet harbinger of joy, its kind intent.
Of courteous Fillegree it bears the name,
Clear symptom of the peer's increasing flame!
The gracious earl, lamenting pleasure lost,
And fair Serena in her wishes cross'd,
Has plann'd, in honour of the lovely maid,
A fancied ball, a private masquerade,
And supplicates her sire, with warm esteem,
To smile indulgent on the festive scheme.
All arts he uses to ensure the grant,
Nor leaves unask'd the eager maiden aunt.
Quick at the sound Serena's glowing heart
Throbs with gay hopes; but soon those hopes de-
Reflection, in her soul a faithful guard,
The opening avenues of pleasure barr'd:
She deem'd the plan of this delightful show,
But the new ambush of her secret foe;
The bliss too bright to realize, she guess'd,
And chas'd th' idea from her guarded breast.
While these discreet resolves her thought employ,
Tranquil she triumphs o'er her smother'd joy.
Not so the knight-to his parental eyes,
In dazzling pomp delusive visions rise:
That coronet, the object of his vow,
He sees suspended o'er his daughter's brow;
Eager he burns to snap the pendent thread,
And fix the glory on his darling's head.
Far wiser aims the ancient maiden caught,
No empty gew-gaws flutter in her thought;
But while more keenly she applauds the plan,
Her hope is solid and substantial man;
Not for her infant niece, whose baby frame
She holds unfit for Hymen's holy flame;
But for her riper self, whose strength may bear
The heaviest burden of connubial care.
Though different phantoms dance before their sight,
Niece, aunt, and father, in one wish unite,
To join the banquet is their common choice,
The business pass'd with no dissenting voice;
And the warm sire, in whom ambition burn'd,
A note of grateful courtesy return'd:
His billet seal'd, the glad good-humour'd knight
Launch'd forth, like Nestor, on his youthful might:
"Oh could I now, in spite of age, retain
That active vigour, and that sprightly vein,
Which led me once the lively laugh to raise
Among the merrier wits of former days,
When rival beauties would around me throng,
And gay ridottos listen to my song!
Such were I now, as on the festive night,
When Ch-h's charms amaz'd the public sight;
When the kind fair one, in a veil so thin
That the clear gauze was but a lighter skin,
Mask'd like a virgin just prepar'd to die,
Gave her plump beauties to each greedy eye!
On that fam'd night (for then with frolic fire
Youth fill'd my heart, and humour strung my lyre),
Pleas'd in the sunshine of her smile to bask,
I danc'd around her in a devil's mask;
And idly chanted an infernal ode,
In praise of all this female tempter show'd,
The jocund crowd, who throng'd with me to gaze,
Extoll'd my unpremeditated lays,
And Sport, who still of this old revel brags,
Stil'd her the first of maids, and me of wags.
Then a light devil, now, reduc'd to limp,
I am but fit to play the hag-born imp;
Still, not to cross the frolic of this ball,
Still at the tortoise Caliban I'll crawl,
And if with gout my burning ankles flinch,
I'll call it Prospero's tormenting pinch;
Still in this shape I'll show them what I am :
And Pen. shall go as Sycorax, my dam.'
So spoke the knight; and spoke with so much
weight,
The listening females saw his word was fate;
For ne'er did Jove with so resolv'd a brow
To smiling Love his joyous scheme avow,
When he concerted, for his special mirth,
A masquerading on the stage of earth,
And of the swan's soft plume, or bull's rough hair,
'Order'd the fancy dress he chose to wear.
From whence let sapient antiquarians show
The ancient use of masquerades below.
Serena smil'd to see this joyous fire
Infuse new youth in her determin'd sire;
But mute Penelope, with half a sigh,
'With one auspicious and one dropping eye,'
* Θεων Διο Νεστορε τ' ανδραν.
See Nestor's speech in the 11th Iliad.
Heard the firm knight his fix'd resolve impart,
Tickling at once and torturing her heart.
The ball she relish'd, but abhorr'd the task
To hide her beauties in a beldam's mask:
Miranda's name would better suit her plan,
A simple maiden, not afraid of man;
But us'd, alas! her brother's law to feel,
She knows that law admits not of repeal,
Trusting her charms will any garb enrich,
She deigns to take the habit of a witch.
Never did sorceress in the shades of night
Try to illuminate a filthy sprite
With fonder efforts, or with worse success,
That Pen. now labour'd, in his wayward dress,
To give the sprightly show of living truth
To the poor ghost of her departed youth.
As witches o'er their magic cauldron bend,
Anxious to see their menial imps ascend;
So in her glass the ancient maiden pries,
And dreams new graces in her person rise.
No such delights, whose dear delusions please,
The mild Serena in her mirror sees;
She, at whose toilet beauty's latent queen
Attends, enchanted with her filial mien,
And o'er her favourite's unconscious face
Breathes her own roseate glow and vivid grace.
She hastes her glittering garments to adjust,
With all the modest charms of sweet distrust,
Doubting that beauty, which she doubts alone,
Which dazzles every eye except her own.
The native diffidence which sway'd her mind,
Now feels new terrors with its own combin'd ;
The robes of Ariel to the nymph recall
Those disappointments that may yet befall;
As her fair hands the gauze or tissue touch,
They fondly warn her not to hope too much.
She feels the friendly counsel they impart,
And caution reigns protector of her heart.
The fateful evening comes-the coach attends,
And first the gouty Caliban ascends;
Then, in deformity's well-suited pride,
Sour Sycorax is station'd by his side;
And last, with sportive smiles, divinely sweet,
Light Ariel perches on the vacant seat.
Fancy now paints the scene of pleasure near,
Yet fluttering gaiety is check'd by fear.
Her wish to view the festive sight runs high;
But the fond nymph remembers, with a sigh,
From Hope's keen hand the cup of joy may slip,
And fall untasted, though it reach the lip.
As the fine artist, whose nice toils aspire
To fame eternal by encaustic fire;
If he, with grief, has seen the faithless heat
Mar the rich labour it should make complete,
When next his hands, with trembling care, confide
To the fierce element his pencil's pride,
Watches unceasing the pernicious flame,
Terror and hope contending in his frame,
While his fair work the dangerous fire sustains,
Feels it in all his sympathetic veins,
And at each trivial sound that chance may cause,
Hears the gem crack, and sees its cruel flaws:
With such solicitude the panting maid
Pass'd the long street, of every noise afraid.
Now, while around her rival flambeaus flare,
And the coach rattles through the crowded square,
She fears some dire mischance must yet befall,
Some demon snatch her from the promis'd ball;
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