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Rh “Until by some confusion led, “Which almost look’d like want of head, “He thought their merits were his own. “His wife was not of his opinion— “His junior she by thirty years— “Grew daily tired of his dominion; “And, after wishes, hopes, and fears, “To virtue a few farewell tears, “A restless dream or two, some glances “At Warsaw’s youth, some songs, and dances, “Awaited but the usual chances, “Those happy accidents which render “The coldest dames so very tender, “To deck her Count with titles given, “’Tis said, as passports into heaven; “But, strange to say, they rarely boast “Of these who have deserved them most.

“I was a goodly stripling then; “At seventy years I so may say, “That there were few, or boys or men, “Who, in my dawning time of day,