With such a wish and such a power to please,
As you possess--Oh think not of the strife
And labours of the Politician's life!
Let _heavy Carlo_ feel the toilsome fate
That doth on fruitless Opposition wait!
Let _clumsy_ NORTH, unenvied, still preside
O'er Britain's welfare, and her Counsels guide!
Let _purblind_ GRANTHAM strive, in soothing strain,
To calm the fury of revengeful SPAIN!
Let _gentle_ STORMONT threat intriguing FRANCE!
You shine, my Lord, _unrival'd in the dance_.
'Tis yours, with nimble step and graceful air,
In measur'd mazes, to delight the Fair.
Of all the various arts, how few are known
To gain an excellence in more than one.
What real praises then become your due!
For who can DRESS and DANCE so well as you!"
She ceas'd:--In minuet step my Lord retired;
To higher _Entre-Chats_ he now aspir'd:
Then, capering as he went, he hasten'd home,
To plan with St----r Triumphs yet to come.

Now hoary S---- near the Throne appears,
Bent with the follies of full three-score years.
These, heap on heap, the solid Altar grace:
When FOLLY, sighing, mourn'd his wrinkled face;
And thus in words of consolation spoke:--
"Fear not, my aged Child, the impending stroke
Of loit'ring Fate, which soon may cut in twain }
Thy cable's dwindled strength, and feeble chain, }
And set thy bark afloat upon th' Eternal Main! }
Fear not; but still indulge thy wanton hours,
And strew thy wint'ry path with vernal flowers.
How long thine hours may last, I cannot say;
FOLLY ne'er sees beyond _the present day_.
And should Old Time, with subtle art, delude
Thy feebled Age into decrepitude;
Still on thy crutches sing, and dance, and play,
And gild the close of Life's short Holiday!
No _second Childhood_ can my S---- wear;
The _first_ yet boasts an incomplete career.
Amid the duties of maturer age,
The playful Child was blended with the Sage;
And e'en th' important labours of the State,
The secret Councils, and the deep Debate,
Have oft been left unfinished, to enjoy
Some childish pastime, or some fangled toy,
Then fear not,--tho' thy years are almost past,
_My friendly Ray_ shall chear you to the last."

Now on the Altar, reeling, W---- lays
The expectations of his early days;
And talents which, improv'd by GRANVILLE'S ca