THB SWITCH OP KENDAL. 13 



" How often do our hopes miscarry ; — 

 " From Fair to Fair the fancy ranges— 



"The Toast to-day, despis'd to-morrow, 



" Discovers, to her endless sorrow, 



*' A maid, too late, may wish to marry. 



" You, too, may for a husband sigh, 

 " And feel, too late, the tender passion, 



" When men, with scorn, will pass you by, 

 " And younger beauties rule the fashion." 



She ceas'd. — The Maid, with frowns, replied. 



The wise old Dame, soon after, died. 

 Dorinda, long the envi'd Fair, 



Fresh Lovers still her hand pursuing. 

 Saw years roll on devoid of care, 



'Till eas'd from all the plague of wooing. 



Ah 1 who is safe from Fortune's frown ? 



Alike, the Scholar and the Clown, 



The Brave, the Fair, the Rich and Great, 



Must, in their turn, submit to Fate. 



A law-suit par'd her income down. 



And clatter went the tongue of Scandal ; 



Her loss was magnified through town. 

 And few deplor'd her luck, in Kendal. 



But, though of half her lands bereft. 



She had enough for comfort left ; 



And, graver grown, when somewhat mellow. 



She vow'd to please some charming fellow. 



At forty, rather in a haste, 



Resolv'd no more her youth to waste : 



The tender frolic seiz'd her head, 



liike other blushing girls, to wed ; 



But strange, alas ! no lover offer'd. 



Where crowds, so oft, their vows had profFer*d. 



The years roll'd on. — The luckless Maid 

 Felt all the pangs of hope delay'd. 

 The Gossips whisper'd that she swore 

 (But surely 'twas upon her honour,) 

 To trust Lavater's rules no more. 



Which had drawn down such sorrow on her. 

 Paints, patches, powders, cosmetics. 

 She vainly tried her charms to fix ; 

 Call'd ev'ry fashion to her aid. 

 And every rage of mode display'd ; 

 But Art with Nature strove in vain ; 

 Through all disguise the wreck was plain. 

 Time stole her bloom, and in despair. 

 She saw him thin her changing hair. 

 Her cats and lapdogs multiplied. 

 Her Monkey chatter'd at her side. 

 But, fretful, pale and discontented. 

 She bitterly the past repented ; 

 At balls and routs appear'd no more ; 

 Neglected dress, and cards gave o'er ; 

 Dropp'd rouge and fard, and took to snuff. 

 Nay, Malice said to " stronger stuff;" 

 A private cure for spleen and vapours. 

 Though never yet made up in papers, 

 'Twas lock'd so closely in her closet 

 That none but Nelly knew what was it. 

 But Nelly, in right buxom health. 

 Had tri'd the elixir by stealth : 



