Classic Poem

BY MR. W ******

Two toasts at every public place are seen,
God-like Elizabeth, and gentle Jean:
Mild Jeany smiles at every word you say,
Seems pleas'd herself, and sends you pleas'd away.
Her face so wondrous fair, so soft her hands,
We're tempted oft to think — she understands:
Each fop with joy the kind endeavour sees,
And thinks for him the anxious care to please;
But the sly nymph has motives of her own,
Her lips are open'd, and — her teeth are shown,
Bess blunders out with every thing aloud,
And rattles unwithheld and unwithstood:
In vain the sighing swain implores a truce,
Nor can his wit one moment's pause produce;
She bounds o'er all, and conscious of her force,
Still pours along the torrent of discourse.
Sometimes, 'tis true, just as her breath she draws,
With watchful eye we catch one moment's pause:
But when that instantaneous moment's o'er,
She rattles on incessant as before.
To which of these two wonders of the town,
Say, shall I trust to spend an afternoon?
If Betty's drawing-room should be my choice,
Intoxicate with wit, struck down with noise,
Pleas'd, and displeas'd, I quit the Bedlam scene,
And joyful hail my peace of mind again:
But if to gentle Jeany's I repair,
Regal'd on syllabub, and fed on air,
With studied rapture yawning I commend,
Mov'd by no cause, directed to no end,
Till half asleep, though flatter'd, not content,
I come away as joyless as I went.