Classic Poem

A POEM .

Let Fulvia's wisdom be a slave to will,
Her darling passions Scandal and Quadrille;
On friends and foes her tongue a satire known,
Her deeds a satire on herself alone.
On her poor kindred deigns she word or look?
'Tis cold respect, or 'tis unjust rebuke;
Worse when good-natur'd than when most severe;
The jest impure then pains the modest ear.
How just the sceptic! the divine how odd!
What turns of wit play smartly on her God!
The Fates my nearest kindred foes decree;
Fulvia, when piqu'd at them, straight pities me.
She, like Benevolence, a smile bestows;
Favours to me indulge her spleen to those.
The banquet serv'd, with peeresses I sit;
She tells my story, and repeats my wit.
With mouth distorted, thro' a sounding nose
It comes; now homeliness more homely grows.
With see-saw sounds, and nonsense not my own,
She screws her features, and she cracks her tone.
" How fine your Bastard! why so soft a strain
" What, such a Mother? satirize again! "
Oft I object — but fix'd in Fulvia's will —
Ah! tho' unkind, she is my mother still.
The verse now flows, the manuscript she claims;
'Tis fam'd — the fame each curious fair inflames:
The wildfire runs: from copy copy grows;
The Bretts, alarm'd, a sep'rate peace propose.
'Tis ratify'd — how alter'd Fulvia's look!
My wit's degraded, and my cause forsook.
Thus she: " What's poetry but to amuse?
" Might I advise — there are more solid views. "
With a cool air she adds, " This tale is old;
" Were it my case it should no more be told.
" Complaints — had I been worthy to advise —
" You know — but when are wits, like women, wise?
" True it may take; but, think whate'er you list,
" All love the satire, none the satirist. "
I start, I stare, stand fix'd, then pause a while,
Then hesitate, then ponder well, then smile,
" Madam — a pension lost — and where's amends? "
" Sir, " she replies, " indeed you'll lose your friends. "
Why did I start? 'twas but a change of wind —
Or, the same thing — the lady chang'd her mind.
I bow, depart, despise, discern her all;
Nanny revisits, and disgrac'd I fall,
Let Fulvia's friendship whirl with ev'ry whim,
A reed, a weathercock, a shade, a dream;
No more the friendship shall be now display'd
By weather-cock, or reed, or dream, or shade;
By weather-cock, or reed, or dream, or shade;
To Nanny fix'd unvarying shall it tend,
For souls, so form'd alike, were form'd to blend.