Page:The Triumphs of Temper.djvu/179

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His figure's charms, the music of his tongue,
What nymphs his lays allur'd, what lays he sung;
But higher cares her rambling song control;
Serena's perils summon all her soul;
For Spleen, ambitious to exert her force,
Conscious this trial is her last resource,
Most keenly bent on her pernicious task,
Has shifted round the ball from mask to mask,
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$Watching the moment, with infernal care,
To form with deepest art her final snare,
And manacle the mind of the unguarded fair.
 It comes, the moment that must fix her lot,
By her, ah, thoughtless maid! by her forgot;
Tho' the light Hours, e'en in their frolic ring,
Trembling perceive the fearful chance they bring,
And, shuddering at the nymph's terrific state,
Seem anxious to suspend her doubtful fate.
$\scriptstyle {\left.{\begin{matrix}\ \\\\\ \ \end{matrix}}\right\}\,}$ Now social ease the place of sport supplied,
The hot oppressive mask was thrown aside,
And beauty shone reveal'd in all her blushing pride.