Page:Poems Sigourney 1827.pdf/150

150 And as he shook his warlike head, His sanguine visage wax'd more red, Like blacksmith's anvil bright with beating, Or demagogue at freemen's meeting.— —The Asteroids were sadly flutter'd, And all in chorus groan'd and sputter'd,— For youngest daughters of the sphere, And from the nursery scarce set clear, They deem'd themselves exceeding wise In all the secrets of the skies. Sleek Madam Vesta, skill'd to peep When in her cradle, feigning sleep, Had heard by stealth, that she was fair,— So putting on her prettiest air, She thought the guest she would not miss, But win a sugar-plum or kiss. Her visage shone so sweetly mild, That shrewish Juno chid the child,— And Pallas bade her mind her book, And on the letters strictly look:— While thrifty Ceres, early taught To hoard the half-pence that she got, Lock'd up her tiny stores with grief, And in the stranger smelt a thief, Gave up her vast domains for lost, And like a roasting chesnut toss'd.— —Tellus, the news could scarcely brook, And with a strong rheumatic shook, A chronic weakness which had clung Close to her nerves, since she was young,— When a cold rain, and tedious flood Long in her upper stories stood.—