e unkind, all are not gone;
Still there remains the _virtuous H----ton_:
Nor shall the wedded H---- faithless prove,
Or quite forget the proofs of _former Love_.
Ne'er shall you more lament the name of Wife;
The Widow's joys will crown your future life."

Next filly _V----rs_, who once had by heart
Each _golden rule_ her _Mother_ could impart;
But since, escap'd from the Maternal School,
Soon learn'd to break through every _golden rule_,[c]
With her the weeping, whining D---- came,
And the _repentant_ L----'s tasteless Dame.
To these an idle, giggling Train succeed,
Of various figure and as various breed--
Whose mingled faces I had never seen--
Eager to pay their duties to the Queen.
And now before the Shrine, promiscuous, lie
The Morning Blame, the Evening Flattery;
Sonnets, and Sighs, and Garlands from the Grove,
With all the soft Artillery of Love;
Lampoons and Ballads, Jealousies, Alarms,
And all the shafts which blast a Rival's charms;
Volumes of false Reports the Altar load,
Brought up from squint-eyed _Scandal_'s dark abode:
And having yielded their accustom'd sport,
Are duly register'd in FOLLY'S COURT.

Now shoals of Damsels to the place repair,
To sacrifice their reputations there;
While others, careful of their own good name,
Give to the gaping crowd a neighbour's fame.
FOLLY, well-pleas'd, the varied heap survey'd
Of _Female Offerings_ before her laid,
And wav'd her wand:--The Altar disappears;
But strait, at her command, another rears
Its _silver_ base, whose firm, compacted mould
Beam'd with the splendor of contrasted gold;
And many a beauty shew'd, with strength to bear
The _weighty_ tributes to be offer'd there.

Before it stood a modest, blooming Peer,
Who bow'd with easy grace, and offer'd there
Some fine-spun Verses which he never wrote,
Some worthy Speeches which he spoke by rote:
For thus I heard surrounding tongues rehearse,
"H---- wrote the Speeches, H---- composed the Verse."
And soon amid the mingled heap there lay
The blasted wishes for _Hibernian_ sway.
And here he sigh'd, and, as I thought, a tear
Rose in his sullen eye, but linger'd there;
When FOLLY, pointing to the splendid show
Of _Star_ and _Ribbon_ that bedeck'd the Beau,
"For shame, my Lord, she cried, your doubtings cease!