_P._ Now where the Learned Lady? Doth she live, 110 Her dinners yet and sentiments to give— The Dean’s wise consort, with the many friends, From whom she borrows, and to whom she lends Her precious maxims? _F._ Yes, she lives to shed Her light around her; but her Dean is dead. Seen her I have, but seldom could I see; Borrow she could not, could not lend to me. Yet I attended, and beheld the tribe Attending too, whom I will not describe— Miranda Thomson! Yes, I sometimes found 120 A seat among a circle so profound; When all the science of the age combined Was in that room, and hers the master-mind. Well I remember the admiring crowd, Who spoke their wonder and applause aloud; They strove who highest should her glory raise, And cramm’d the hungry mind with honied praise— While she, with grateful hand, a table spread, The Dean assenting—but the Dean is dead; And, though her sentiments are still divine, She asks no more her auditors to dine. 130 Once from her lips came wisdom; when she spoke, Her friends in transport or amazement broke. Now to her dictates there attend but few, And they expect to meet attention too; Respect she finds is purchased at some cost, And deference is withheld, when dinner’s lost. She, once the guide and glory of the place Exists between oblivion and disgrace; Praise, once afforded, now—they say not why, 140 They dare not say it—fickle men deny; That buzz of fame a new Minerva cheers, Which our deserted queen no longer hears. Old, but not wise, forsaken, not resign’d, She gives to honours past her feeble mind; Back to her former state her fancy moves, And lives on past applause, that still she loves; Yet holds in scorn the fame no more in view, } And flies the glory that would not pursue } To yon small cot a poorly jointured _Blue_. 150} TALE XIV. _THE WIFE AND WIDOW._ I.