Page:The Triumphs of Temper.djvu/106

 {{ppoem|start=follow|end=follow|This ancient friend, in a sarcastic sketch, Was mark'd by Scandal as a monied wretch, For whom the young, yet mercenary fair Had subtly spread a matrimonial snare. With such base matter, more diffusely wrought, The spirit-piercing paragraph was fraught, O'er which with glee the eye of Scandal glar'd, Which for the opening press herself prepar'd; She on the types her inky wad let fall, And smear'd each letter with her bitterest gall; The press, whose ready gripe the charge receives, Stamps it successive on ten thousand leaves, Which pil'd in heaps impatient seem to lie, They only wait the dawn of day to fly.
 * Now, as the child, in lonely chamber laid,

Mute in the dark, and of itself afraid, When, haply conscious of the pain it feels, The watchful mother to its pillow steals, Springs to her breast, and {hakes off all alarms, Feeling its safety in her fostering arms:}}