Now to be wed a well-match'd couple came; Twice had old Lodge been tied, and twice the dame; Tottering they came and toying, (odious scene!) 360 And fond and simple, as they'd always been. Children from wedlock we by laws restrain; Why not prevent them, when they're such again? Why not forbid the doting souls, to prove Th' indecent fondling of preposterous love? In spite of prudence, uncontroll'd by shame, The amorous senior woos the toothless dame, Relating idly, at the closing eve, The youthful follies he disdains to leave; Till youthful follies wake a transient fire, 370 When arm in arm they totter and retire. So a fond pair of solemn birds, all day, Blink in their seat and doze the hours away; Then, by the moon awaken'd, forth they move, And fright the songsters with their cheerless love. So two sear trees, dry, stunted, and unsound, Each other catch, when dropping to the ground; Entwine their wither'd arms 'gainst wind and weather, And shake their leafless heads, and drop together. So two cold limbs, touch'd by Galvani's wire, 380 Move with new life, and feel awaken'd fire; Quivering awhile, their flaccid forms remain, Then turn to cold torpidity again. "But ever frowns your Hymen? man and maid, Are all repenting, suffering, or betray'd?" Forbid it, Love! we have our couples here Who hail the day in each revolving year: These are with us, as in the world around; They are not frequent, but they may be found. Our farmers, too; what, though they fail to prove, 390 In Hymen's bonds, the tenderest slaves of love, (Nor, like those pairs whom sentiment unites, Feel they the fervour of the mind's delights:) Yet, coarsely kind and comfortably gay, They heap the board and hail the happy day: And, though the bride, now freed from school, admits Of pride implanted there some transient fits; Yet soon she casts her girlish flights aside, And in substantial blessings rests her pride. No more she moves in measured steps, no more 400 Runs, with bewilder'd ear, her music o'er; No more recites her French the hinds among, But chides her maidens in her mother-tongue; Her tambour-frame she leaves and diet spare, Plain work and plenty with her house to share; Till, all her varnish lost, in few short years, In all her worth, the farmer's wife appears. Yet not the ancient kind; nor she who gave Her soul to gain--a mistress and a slave: Who not to sleep allow'd the needful time; 410 To whom repose was loss, and sport a crime; Who, in her meanest room (and all were mean), A noisy drudge, from morn till night was seen;-- But she, the daughter, boasts a decent room, Adorn'd with carpet, form'd in Wilton's loom; Fair prints along the paper'd wall are spread }