OF TEMPER.
161
That all the trials of her fate were past,
And Love's decisive plaudits seal'd the last.
Her airy guard prepares the softest down,
From Peace's wing, to line the nuptial crown:
Her smiles accelerate the bridal morn,
And clear her votary's path from every thorn.
On the quick match the Prude's keen censures fall,
Blind to the heavenly power who guided all:
But mild Serena scorn'd the prudish play,
To wound warm love with frivolous delay;
Nature's chaste child, not Affectation's slave,
The heart she meant to give, she frankly gave.
Thro' her glad sire no gouty humours run,
Jocund he glories in his destin'd son.
Penelope herself, no longer seen
In the sour semblance of tormenting Spleen,
Buys for her niece the robes of nuptial state,
Nor scolds the mercer once thro' all the long debate.
For quick dispatch, the honest man of law
Toils half the night the legal ties to draw.
And Love's decisive plaudits seal'd the last.
Her airy guard prepares the softest down,
From Peace's wing, to line the nuptial crown:
Her smiles accelerate the bridal morn,
And clear her votary's path from every thorn.
On the quick match the Prude's keen censures fall,
Blind to the heavenly power who guided all:
But mild Serena scorn'd the prudish play,
To wound warm love with frivolous delay;
Nature's chaste child, not Affectation's slave,
The heart she meant to give, she frankly gave.
Thro' her glad sire no gouty humours run,
Jocund he glories in his destin'd son.
Penelope herself, no longer seen
In the sour semblance of tormenting Spleen,
Buys for her niece the robes of nuptial state,
Nor scolds the mercer once thro' all the long debate.
For quick dispatch, the honest man of law
Toils half the night the legal ties to draw.
