rber's Temple of Fashion.

CCLXXX.

To tell, indeed, the true extent
Of his rural bias, so far it went
As to covet estates in ring fences--
And for rural lore he had learn'd in town
That the country was green, turn'd up with brown,
And garnish'd with trees that a man might cut down
Instead of his own expenses.

CCLXXXI.

And yet had that fault been his only one,
The Pair might have had few quarrels or none,
For their tastes thus far were in common;
But faults he had that a haughty bride
With a Golden Leg could hardly abide--
Faults that would even have roused the pride
Of a far less metalsome woman!

CCLXXXII.

It was early days indeed for a wife,
In the very spring of her married life,
To be chill'd by its wintry weather--
But instead of sitting as Love-Birds do,
On Hymen's turtles that bill and coo--
Enjoying their "moon and honey for two,"
They were scarcely seen together!

CCLXXXIII.

In vain she sat with her Precious Leg
A little exposed, _a la_ Kilmansegg,
And roll'd her eyes in their sockets!
He left her in spite of her tender regards,
And those loving murmurs described by bards,
For the rattling of dice and the shuffling of cards,
And the poking of balls into pockets!

CCLXXXIV.

Moreover he loved the deepest stake
And the heaviest bets the players would make;
And he drank--the reverse of sparely,--
And he used strange curses that made her fret;
And when he play'd with herself at piquet,
She found, to her cost,
For she always lost,
That the Count did not count quite fairly.

CCLXXXV.

And then came dark mistrust and doubt,
Gather'd by worming his secrets out,
And slips in his conversations--
Fears, which all her peace destroy'd,
That his title was null--his coffers were void--
And his French Chateau was in Spain, or enjoy'd
The most airy of situations.

CCLXXXVI.

But still his heart--if he had such a part--
She--only she--might possess his heart,
And hold his affections in fetters--
Alas! that hope, like a crazy ship,
Was forced its anchor and cable to slip
When, seduced by her fears, she took a dip
In his private papers and letters.

CCLXXXVII.

Letters that told of dangerous leagues;
And notes that hinted as many intrigues
As the Count's in the "Barber of Seville"--
In short such mysteries came to light,
That the Countess-Bride, on the thirtieth night,
Woke and started up in affright,
And kick'd and scream'd with