Page:Poetical Works of the Right Hon. Geo. Granville.djvu/100

88 Of rich brocade a ſhining robe ſhe wears, And gems ſurround her lovely neck like ſtars. Drawn by ſix grays of the proud Belgian kind, With a long train of livery beaus behind, She charms the Park, and ſets all hearts on fire, The ladies’ envy and the men’s deſire. Beholding thus, “O happy as a queen!” We cry. But ſhift the gaudy flatt’ring ſcene; View her at home in her domeſtic light, For thither ſhe muſt come, at leaſt at night, What has ſhe there? a ſurly ill-bred lord, Who chides, and ſnaps her up at ev’ry word; A brutal ſot, who, while ſhe holds his head, With drunken filth bedaubs the nuptial bed: Sick to the heart, ſhe breathes the nauſeous fume Of odious ſteams that poiſon all the room: Weeping all night the trembling creature lies, And counts the tedious hours when ſhe may riſe; But moſt ſhe fears leſt, waking, ſhe ſhould find, To make amends, the monſter would be kind. Thoſe matchleſs beauties, worthy of a god, Muſt bear, tho’ much averſe, the loathſome load. What then may be the chance that next enſues? Some vile diſeaſe freſh reeking from the ſtews: The ſecret venom, circling in her veins, Works thro’ her ſkin, and burſts in bloating ſtains: Her checks their freſhneſs loſe and wonted grace, And an unuſual paleneſs ſpreads her face;