Nor for neglected duties mourns the Bear. To his retreats, on the election-day, The losing party found their silent way; There they partook of each consoling good, Like him uncrown'd, like him in sullen mood-- Threat'ning, but bound.--Here meet a social kind, Our various clubs, for various cause combined; Nor has he pride, but thankful takes as gain The dew-drops shaken from the Lion's mane: 70 A thriving couple here their skill display, And share the profits of no vulgar sway. Third in our Borough's list appears the sign Of a fair queen--the gracious Caroline; But in decay--each feature in the face Has stain of Time, and token of disgrace. The storm of winter, and the summer-sun, Have on that form their equal mischief done; The features now are all disfigured seen, And not one charm adorns th' insulted queen: 80 To this poor face was never paint applied, Th' unseemly work of cruel Time to hide; Here we may rightly such neglect upbraid; Paint on such faces is by prudence laid. Large the domain, but all within combine To correspond with the dishonour'd sign; And all around dilapidates; you call-- But none replies--they're inattentive all. At length a ruin'd stable holds your steed, While you through large and dirty rooms proceed, 90 Spacious and cold; a proof they once had been In honour--now magnificently mean; Till in some small half-furnish'd room you rest, Whose dying fire denotes it had a guest. In those you pass'd where former splendour reign'd, You saw the carpets torn, the paper stain'd; Squares of discordant glass in windows fix'd, And paper oil'd in many a space betwixt; A soil'd and broken sconce; a mirror crack'd, With table underpropp'd, and chairs new-back'd; 100 A marble side-slab with ten thousand stains, And all an ancient tavern's poor remains. With much entreaty, they your food prepare, And acid wine afford, with meagre fare; Heartless you sup; and when a dozen times You've read the fractured window's senseless rhymes; Have been assured that Phoebe Green was fair, And Peter Jackson took his supper there: You reach a chilling chamber, where you dread Damps, hot or cold, from a tremendous bed; 110 Late comes your sleep, and you are waken'd soon By rustling tatters of the old festoon. O'er this large building, thus by time defaced, A servile couple has its owner placed, Who, not unmindful that its style is large, To lost magnificence adapt their charge. Thus an old beauty, who has long declined, Keeps former dues and dignity in mind; And wills that all attention should be paid For graces vanish'd and for charms decay'd. 120 Few years have pass'd, since brightly 'cross the way Lights from each window shot the lengthen'd ray, And busy looks in every face were seen,