Him I obey, whom Heaven itself obeys, Hopeless of pleasing, yet inclin'd to please. Here then at once I welcome every shame, And cancel at threescore a life of fame; No more my titles shall my children tell, The old buffoon will fit my name as well; This day beyond its term my fate extends, For life is ended when our honour ends: THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION. A TALE. * SECLUDED from domestic strife, Made him the happiest man alive; Such pleasures, unallay'd with care, Could Cupid's shaft at length transfix Or Flavia been content to stop At triumphs in a Fleet-street shop. * This and the following Poem were published by DR. GOLDSMITH in his Volume of Essays, which appeared in 1765. O had O had her eyes forgot to blaze! Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze. 0! But let exclamation cease, Her presence banish'd all his peace. So with decorum all things carry'd; Miss frown'd, and blush'd, and then was-married. Need we expose to vulgar sight The raptures of the bridal night? The honey-moon like light'ning flew, Skill'd in no other arts was she, But dressing, patching, repartee; And, And, just as humour rose or fell, 'Tis true she dress'd with modern grace, But when at home, at board or bed, In short, by night, 'twas fits or fretting; The 'squire and captain took their stations, And twenty other near relations; Jack suck'd his pipe, and often broke While all their hours were pass'd between Thus as her faults each day were known, How wide her mouth, how wild her eyes; And, And, though her fops are wond'rous civil, He thinks her ugly as the devil. Now to perplex the ravell'd nooze, As each a different way pursues, While sullen or loquacious strife Promised to hold them on for life, That dire disease, whose ruthless power Withers the beauty's transient flower: Lo! the small pox, whose horrid glare Levell❜d its terrors at the fair; And, rifling every youthful grace, Left but the remnant of a face. The glass, grown hateful to her sight, Reflected now a perfect fright: Each former art she vainly tries To bring back lustre to her eyes. In vain she tries her paste and creams, To smooth her skin, or hide its seams; Her country beaux and city cousins, Lovers no more, flew off by dozens: The 'squire himself was seen to yield, And ev'n the captain quit the field. Poor madam now condemn'd to hack The rest of life with anxious Jack, Perceiving others fairly flown, Attempted pleasing him alone, Jack soon was dazzled to behold Her present face surpass the old; |