Romans understood, To perish for our country's good. She named the ancient heroes round, Explain'd for what they were renown'd; Then spoke with censure or applause Of foreign customs, rites, and laws; Through nature and through art she ranged And gracefully her subject changed; In vain! her hearers had no share In all she spoke, except to stare. Their judgment was, upon the whole,      —That lady is the dullest soul!—      Then tapt 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 ribbons, 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; Named half the rates, and liked 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, with that youthful air, Is thirty, and a bit to spare:      Her fondness for a certain earl Began when I was but a girl! Phillis, who but a month ago Was married to the Tunbridge beau, I saw coquetting t'other night In public with that odious knight! They rallied next Vanessa's dress:      That gown was made for old Queen Bess. Dear madam, let me see your head:      Don't you intend to put on red? A petticoat without a hoop! Sure, you are not ashamed to stoop! With handsome garters at your knees, No matter what a fellow sees. Filled with disdain, with rage inflamed Both of herself and sex ashamed, The nymph stood silent out of spite, Nor would vouchsafe to set them right. Away the fair detractors went, And gave by turns their censures vent. She's not so handsome in my eyes:      For wit, I wonder where it lies! She's fair and clean, and that's the most:      But why proclaim her for a toast? A baby face; no life, no airs, But what she learn'd at country fairs; Scarce knows what difference is between Rich Flanders lace and 

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