Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/122

 Through nature and through art she rang'd, And gracefully her subject chang'd; In vain! her hearers had no share In all she spake, except to stare. Their judgment was, upon the whole, — That lady is the dullest soul! — Then tipt their forehead in a jeer, As who should say — She wants it here! She may be handsome, young, and rich, But none will burn her for a witch! A party next of glittering dames, From round the purlieus of St. James, Came early, out of pure good will, To see the girl in dishabille. Their clamour, 'lighting from their chairs, Grew louder all the way up stairs; At entrance loudest, where they found The room with volumes litter'd round. Vanessa held Montaigne, and read, While Mrs. Susan comb'd her head. They call'd for tea and chocolate, And fell into their usual chat, Discoursing with important face, On ribands, fans, and gloves, and lace; Show'd patterns just from India brought, And gravely ask'd her what she thought, Whether the red or green were best, And what they cost! Vanessa guess'd, As came into her fancy first; Nam'd half the rates, and lik'd the worst. To scandal next — What awkward thing Was that last Sunday in the ring! I'm sorry Mopsa breaks so fast: I said, her face would never last. Corinna,