Just hinting, by that gentle sign,

How little Nature holds it true,

That what is call'd an ancient line,
Must be the line of Beauty too.

From Dukes' they pass'd to regal phizzes,
Compar'd them proudly with their own,

And cried, "How could such monstrous quizzes "In Beauty's name usurp the throne!".

They then wrote essays, pamphlets, books,
Upon Cosmetical Economy,

Which made the King try various looks,
But none improv'd his physiognomy.

And satires at the Court were levell'd,
And small lampoons, so full of slynesses,
That soon, in short, they quite be-devil'd
Their Majesties and Royal Highnesses.

At length-but here I drop the veil,

To spare some loyal folks' sensations; Besides, what follow'd is the tale

Of all such late-enlighten'd nations;

Of all to whom old Time discloses

A truth they should have sooner known— That Kings have neither rights nor noses A whit diviner than their own.

FABLE III.

THE TORCH OF LIBERTY.

I SAW it all in Fancy's glass-
Herself, the fair, the wild magician,
Who bid this splendid day-dream pass,
And nam'd each gliding apparition.

'Twas like a torch-race—such as they
Of Greece perform'd, in ages gone,
When the fleet youths, in long array,
Pass'd the bright torch triumphant on.

I saw th' expectant nations stand,

To catch the coming flame in turn ;

I saw, from ready hand to hand,

The clear, though struggling, glory burn.

And, oh, their joy, as it came near,
'Twas, in itself, a joy to see;-
While Fancy whisper'd in my ear,
"That torch they pass is Liberty!"

And, each, as she receiv'd the flame,
Lighted her altar with its ray;
Then, smiling, to the next who came,
Speeded it on its sparkling way.

From ALBION first, whose ancient shrine
Was furnish'd with the fire already,
COLUMBIA caught the boon divine,
And lit a flame, like ALBION's, steady.

The splendid gift then GALLIA took,
And, like a wild Bacchante, raising

The brand aloft, its sparkles shook,

As she would set the world a-blazing !

Thus kindling wild, so fierce and high
Her altar blaz'd into the air,

That ALBION, to that fire too nigh,

Shrunk back, and shudder'd at its glare!

Next, SPAIN, so new was light to her,

Leap'd at the torch-but, ere the spark That fell upon her shrine could stir, 'Twas quench'd-and all again was dark.

Yet, no- — not quench'd—a treasure, worth
So much to mortals, rarely dies:
Again her living light look'd forth,
And shone, a beacon, in all eyes.

Who next receiv'd the flame? alas,
Unworthy NAPLES-shame of shames,
That ever through such hands should pass
That brightest of all earthly flames!

Scarce had her fingers touch'd the torch,
When, frighted by the sparks it shed,
Nor waiting ev'n to feel the scorch,

She dropp'd it to the earth-and fled.

And fall'n it might have long remain'd;

But GREECE, who saw her moment now, Caught up the prize, though prostrate, stain'd, And wav'd it round her beauteous brow.