Miranda's name would better suit her plan,
A simple maiden not afraid of man;
But used, 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 dusky sprite.
With fonder efforts or with worse success,
Than Pen. now labour'd, in this wayward dress,
To give the sprightly show of living truth
To the poor ghost of her departed youth.
As witches o'er their magic caldron 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 combined:
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.

ancy now paints the scene of pleasure near,
Yet fluttering gayety 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 flambeaux flare,
And the coach rattles through the crowded square,
She fears some dire misch ance must yet befall,
Some demon snatch her from the promised ball;
And dreams no trial more severe than this,
So bright she figures the new scene of bliss;
Yet, horrid as it seems, her heart is bent
To bear e'en this, and bear it with content.

But, whirl'd at length within the porter's gate,
She thinks what perils at the ball may wait;
And, as she now alights, the fluttering fair
Invokes her guardian to protect her there,
Till thoughts of danger, thoughts of caution, fly
Before the magic blaze, that meets her eye,
Th' advancing nymph, at every step she takes,
Pants with amasement, doubtful if she wakes:
For as her eyes the glittering scene command,
'Tis all enchantment, all a fairy land;
No vestiges of modern pomp appear,
No modern melody salutes her ear:
With Moorish notes the echoing mansion rings,
And its transmuted form to fancy brings,
The rich Alhambra of the Moorish kings,
The peer, who keenly thirsts for fashion's praise,
To gild his revel with no common rays,
Summon'd his modish architect, whose skill
Can all the wishes of caprice fulfil.
His genius, equal to the wildest task,
Gave to the house itself a Gothic mask.

See the views of this palace in Swinburn's Travels.

The chaplain, that no guest might feel neglect,
As a magician of the Arab sect,

Waved a presiding wand throughout the ball,
And well provided for the wants of all.

The peer himself, his prowess to evince,
Shines in the semblance of a Moorish prince;
And round the brilliant mimic hero wait
All pomp and circumstance of Moorish state.
Through all his splendid dome no eye could find
Aught unembellish'd, save the master's mind,
There, though repress'd by courtesy's control,
Lurks the low mover of the little soul,
Mean vanity; whose slave can never prove
The heart refining flame of genuine love.
While her cold joys his abject mind amuse,
His thoughts are busied on connubial views.
His house complete, its decorations placed
By the sure hand of fashionable taste,
He only wants, to crown his modish life,
The last and finest moveable- a wife.
She too must prove, to fix his coy desire,
Such as the eyes of fashion will admire.
His ball is but a jury, to decide
Upon the merit of his fancied bride.
It'sweet Serena, on this signal night,
Shines the first idol of the public sight:
If gallantry's fix'd eyes pronounce her fair,
By the sure sign of an unceasing stare;
And if, prophetic of her nobler doom,
Each rival beauty shudders at her bloom:
The dye is cast-he weds-the point is clear;
She cannot slight the vows of such a peer.
Tnus argued in his mind the festive earl,
And, lest he lightly choose an awkward girl,
Wisely convened, on this important case,
Each fashionable judge of female grace,
Here beaux esprits in various figures lurk,
Of Jew and Gentile, Bramin, Tartar, Turk;
Wonder all shapes, in this assembly, finds,
Hermits and demons! emperors and hinds!
All that diversify life's crowded field,
And all prolific phantasy can yield:
But of the manly masks, a youthful bard
Seem'd most to challenge beauty's soft regard;
Adorn'd with native elegance, he wore,
In simplest form the minstrel dress of yore:
They call him Edwin, who around him throng,
Edwin, immortalized in Beattie's song;
And, sooth to say, within a comely frame
He bore a heart that answer'd to the name;
For this neat habit deck'd a generous youth;
Of gentlest manners and sincerest truth;
The noblest feelings nature could inspire
Shone in his eyes, and dignified his lyre.
Though on his birth propitious fortune smiled,
No proud parental folly spoil'd the child;
And genius, more beneficently kind,
Bless'd with superior wealth his manly mind.
Of years he barely counted twenty-one;
But like a brilliant morn his opening life begun.
Fain would the muse on this her votary dwell,
And fully paint the youth she loves so well;
His graceful form, the music of his tongue,
And all the magic of the lays he sung:
But higher cares her anxious heart control;
Serena's perils summon all her soul;
For Spleen, ambitious to exert her force
Conscious this trial is her last resource,
Most keenly bent on her pernicious task,
Has shifted round the ball from mask to mask,
Watching the moment, with infernal care,
To form with deepest art her final snare,
And manacle the mind of th' unguarded fair.

It comes, the moment that must fix her lot, By her, (ah, thoughtless maid!) by her forgot; Though the light hours, e'en in their frolic ring, Trembling perceive the fearful chance they bring, And, shuddering at the nymph's terrific state, Seem anxious to suspend her doubtful fate.

Now social ease the place of sport supplied,
The hot oppressive mask was thrown aside,
And beauty shone reveal'd in all her blushing
Superior still in features as in form,
[pride,
With admiration flush'd, with pleasure warm,
The gay Serena every eye allured:

The hearts her figure won, her face secured:
A tender sweetness still the nymph maintain'd,
And modesty o'er all her graces reign'd.
Well might her soul to brilliant hopes incline,
A thousand youths had call'd her charms divine:
A thousand friends had whisper'd in her ear,
That fate had mark'd her for the festive peer,

Her youthful fancy, though by pomp amused,
Wish'd not those offers, which her heart refused;
That tender heart, by no vain pride possess'd,
With indecisive trembling shook her breast,
Like a young bird, that fluttering in the air,
Wishes to build her nest, yet knows not where.
The busy earl, his puny love to raise,
Hunted the circling whisper of her praise;
Heard envy own her lovely charms, though loath,
Heard taste attest them with a modish oath;
And, nuptial projects thickening in his mind,
Now his fair partner in the dance rejoin'd,
As now the sprightly music paused, my lord
Would touch with eagerness a softer chord;
Secure of all repulse, he vainly meant
Half to display, half hide his fond intent.
And, in dissembled passion's flowery tropes,
To sport at leisure with the virgin's hopes:
For this he framed a motley speech, replete
With amorous compliment and vain conceit.
The labour'd nothing with complacent pride
He spoke, but to his speech no nymph replied:
For in the moment, the lost fair devotes
Her willing ear to more attractive notes.
The minstrel happen'd near the nymph to walk,
Rapt with a bosom-friend in secret talk.
And, at the instant when the earl began
Half to unfold his matrimonial plan,
Edwin, in whispers, from the crowd retired,
Chanced to repeat the sonnet, she inspired.
The sound, though faint, her recollection caught,
Drew her quick eye, and fix'd her wondering
thought.

Lost in this sweet surprise, she could not hear
A single accent of the courtly peer.
Spleen saw the moment that she sought to gain,
And perch'd to lumphant on the noble's brain.
With jealous envy stung, and baffled pride,
"Contemptuous girl!" with sudden rage he cried,
"If here to happier youths thy views incline,
I want not fairer nymphs, who challenge mine,
Thy breast in vain with penitence may burn;
But once neglected, I no more return."

Thus loudly speaking, with distemper'd heat,
Rudely he turn'd, with rancorous scorn replete.
Serena, startled at th' injurious sound,
Survey'd th' insulting peer, who sternly frown'd;
Shame and resentment through her bosom rush,
Swell every vein, and raise the burning blush.
Love, new born love, but in its birth conceal'd,
Nor to the nymph herself as yet reveal'd,
And just disdain, and anger's honest flame;
With complicated power convulse her frame:
Contending passions every thought confound,
And in tumultuous doubt her soul is drown'd.
Now treacherous pride, who tempts her tongue to
trip,

Forms to a keen reply her quivering lip;
Insidious Spleen now hovers o'er the fair,
Deems her half lock'd within her hateful snare:
In her new slave preparing to rejoice,
To taint her spirit, and untune her voice.
Hapless Serena! what can save thee now?
The fiend's dark signet stamps thy clouded brow,
In thy swoln eye I see the starting drop:
This fatal shower, ethereal guardian! stop:
Haste to thy votary, haste, her soul sustain,
Nor let the trials she has pass'd be vain!

Ah me! while yet I speak, with shuddering dread
I hear the magic girdle's bursting thread,
This horrid omen, ye kind powers! avert:
Nor thou, bright zone! thy brighter charge desert.
Ah! fruitless prayer! her panting breast behold!
See the gauze shakes in many a ruffled fold!
Forced from their station by her heaving heart,
From the strain'd girdle thrice three spangles start;
Through her disorder'd dress a pass they found
And fallen, see, they glitter on the ground!-
O blessed chance! with life-recalling light
The glittering monitors attract her sight!
Like stars emerging from the darken'd pole,
They sparkle safety to her harass'd soul.
See! from her brow the clouds of trouble fly,
Vexation's tear is vanish'd from her eye!
Her rosy cheeks with joy's new radiance burn,
Like nature smiling at the sun's return;
The nymph, no more with mental darkness blind,
Shines the sweet ruler of her rescued mind.
Hence, hateful Spleen! thy fancied prize resign,
Renounce for ever what shall ne'er be thine:
For, conscious of her airy guardian's aid,
She feels new spirit through her heart convey'd,

And, inly blessing this victorious hour,
Her soul exults in its recovered power.
In such mild terms she hails the insulting peer,
As Spleen, if mortal, must expire to hear;
But, driven for ever from the lovely girl,
The foul fiend riots in the captive earl.
He answers not; but with a sullen air,
On happier Edwin, who approach'd the fair,
Darts such a glance of rage and envious hate,
As Satan cast on Eden's blissful state,
When on our parents first he fix'd his sight,
And undelighted gazed on all delight;

So doom'd to look, and doom'd such pangs to feel, Scornful he turn'd on his elastic heel.

"O lovely mildness! O angelic maid!
Deserving homage, though to scorn betray'd:
Rise still, sweet spirit, rise these wrongs above,
Turn from injurious pride to faithful love:
Though on my brow no coronet may shine,
Wealth I can offer at thy beauty's shrine,
And, worthier thee, a heart that worships thine."
Thus, with new-kindled love's aspiring flame,
Spoke the fond youth conceal'd by Edwin's name,
The gallant Falkland, rich in native worth,
By fortune blest, and not of abject birth.
Warmly he spoke, with that indignant heat
With which the generous heart ne'er fails to beat,
When worth insulted wakens virtuous ire,
And injured beauty sets the soul on fire.
Quick to his voice the startled fair one turn'd,
With wonder, hope, and joy, her bosom burn'd;
With sweet confusion, flurried and amazed,
On his attractive form she wildly gazed.
Full on her thought the friendly vision rush'd;
Blushing she view'd him, view'd him still, and
blush'd;

And, soft affection quickening at the sight,
Perchance had swoon'd with fulness of delight;
But that her father's voice, with quick control,
Recall'd the functions of her fainting soul.
When on the distant seat, where fondly fix'd,
He view'd the nymph, as in the dance she mix'd,
He indistinctly heard, with wounded ear,
The spleenful outrage of the angry peer;
Swift at th' imperfect sound, with choler wild,
He sprung to succour his insulted child;
But ere his fury into language broke,
Love calm'd the storm, that arrogance awoke.
The sudden burst of Falkland's tender flame,
His winning manners, his distinguish'd name,
His liberal soul, by fortune's smile carest,
All join'd to harmonize the father's breast.
His fiery thoughts subside in glad surprise,
And to the generous youth he warmly cries:
"Ingenuous Falkland! by thy frankness won,
My willing heart would own thee for my son;
But on thy hopes Serena must decide:-
Haste we together from this house of pride

So spoke the sire; for, to her votary kind,
Sophrosyne inspired his soften'd mind.
Speaking, he smiled, to see that on his word
The lover hung, and bless'd the sounds he heard!
That his embarrass'd child his sentence caught
With each tumultuous sign of tender thought:
Whose blushes, springing from the heart, declare
The dawn of fondness in the modest fair.
Th' enchanted youth with ecstacy convey'd
Forth from the troubled feast the trembling maid.
As the keen sailor, whom his daring soul
Has drawn, too vent'rous, near the freezing pole;
Who having slighted caution's tame advice,
Seems wedged within impervious worlds of ice:
If, from each chilling form of peril free,
At length he reach the unincumber'd sea,
With joy superior to his transient pain,
Rushes, exulting, o'er th' expansive main:
Such strong delight Serena's bosom shared,
When sweet reflection to her heart declared,
That all the trials of her fate were pass'd,
And love's decisive plaudit seal'd the last.
Her airy guard prepares the softest down,
From peace's wing, to line the nuptial crown:
Her smiles accelerate the bridal morn,
And clears her votary's path from every thorn.
On the quick match the prude's keen censures fall,
Blind to the heavenly power, who guided all :
But mild Serena scorn'd the prudish play.
To wound warm love with frivolous delay;
Nature's chaste child, not affectation's slave,
The heart she meant to give, she frankly gave.
"Beloved to love again" her wish was this;
She felt it virtue; and she own'd it bliss.

Her features gay from a triumphant heart,
A new existence to her sire impart;
His joyous frame no gouty humours tease;
Mental delight creates corporeal ease:

His quick affection crowns what chance begun,
And daily glories in his destined son.
Penelope herself, no longer seen

In the sour semblance of tormenting Spleen,
Buys for her niece the robes of nuptial state,
Nor scolds the mercer once thro' all the long debate.
For quick despatch, the honest man of law
Toils half the night the legal ties to draw;

At length th' enraptured youth, all forms complete,
Bears his sweet bride to his paternal seat.
On a fair lawn the cheerful mansion stood,
And high behind it rose a circling wood.
As the bless'd lord of this extensive reign
Led his dear partner through her new domain,
With fond surprise, Serena soon descried,
A temple raised to her ethereal guide.
Its ornaments she view'd with tender awe,
Their fashion such as she in vision saw;
For the kind youth her grateful smile to gain,
Had from her clear description, deck'd the fane.

Joyfu! he cried to his angelic wife,

"Be this kind power the worship of our life!"
He spoke and led her to the inmost shrine;
Here, link'd in rosy bands, two votaries shine;
The pencil had imparted life to each,
With energy that seem'd beyond its reach.
First stood Connubial Love, a manly youth,

Whose bright eye spoke the fervent vows of truth;
Friendship, sweet smiling, fill'd the second place,
In all the softer charms of Virgin grace,
Their meeting arms a mystic tablet raise,
Deck'd with these lines, the moral of my lays:
"Virtue's an ingot of Peruvian gold,

Sense the bright ore Potosi's mines unfold;
But Temper's image must their use create,
And give these precious metals sterling weight."

VARIATION.

"Homage to Virtue as our Queen we pay,
And Wisdom, uttering her commands, obey;
Yet fondly own a more attractive power,
And hail thee, Temper! friend of every hour."