The Basset-Table : An Eclogue
Smilinda.
But ah! what aggravates the killing smart,
The cruel thought, that stabs me to the heart;
This curs'd Ombrelia, this undoing Fair,
By whose vile arts this heavy grief I bear;
She, at whose name I shed these spiteful tears,
She owes to me the very charms she wears.
An awkward Thing, when first she came to Town;
Her Shape unfashion'd, and her Face unknown:
She was my friend; I taught her first to spread
Upon her sallow cheeks enliv'ning red:
I introduc'd her to the Park and Plays;
And, by my int'rest, Cozens made her Stays.
Ungrateful wretch, with mimic airs grown pert,
She dares to steal my Fav'rite Lover's heart. Cardelia.
But of what marble must that breast be form'd,
To gaze on Basset, and remain unwarm'd?
When Kings, Queens, Knaves, are set in decent rank;
Expos'd in glorious heaps the tempting Bank,
Guineas, Half-Guineas, all the shining train;
The Winner's pleasure, and the Loser's pain:
In bright Confusion open Rouleaux lie,
They strike the Soul, and glitter in the Eye.
Fir'd by the sight, all Reason I disdain;
My Passions rise, and will not bear the rein.
Look upon Basset, you who Reason boast;
And see if Reason must not there be lost.