Next came a well-drest Pair, who left their Coach, And made, in long procession, slow approach: For, this gay Bride had many a Female Friend, And Youths were there, this favour’d Youth t’ attend: Silent, nor wanting due respect, the Crowd Stood humbly round and Gratulation bow’d; But not that silent Crowd, in wonder fixt, Not numerous Friends, who praise and envy mix’d, Nor Nymphs attending near to swell the pride Of one more fair, the ever-smiling Bride; Nor that gay Bride adorn’d with every Grace, } Nor Love nor Joy triumphant in her Face, } Could from the Youth’s, sad signs of Sorrow chase:} Why didst thou grieve? Wealth, Pleasure, Freedom thine; Vex’d it thy soul, that Freedom to resign? Spake Scandle truth? “Thou didst not then intend, So soon to bring thy wooing to an end?” Or was it, as our prating Rustics say, To end as soon, but in a different way? ’Tis told thy _Phyllis_ is a skilful Dame, Who play’d uninjur’d with the dangerous Flame: That while like _Lovelace_ thou thy Coat display’d And hid the Snare, prepar’d to catch the Maid, Thee with her Net, she found the means to catch, And at the amorous See-saw, won the Match[8]; Yet others tell, the Captain fix’d thy doubt, He’d call thee Brother, or he’d call thee out:-- But rest the Motive--all Retreat too late, Joy like thy Bride’s should on thy brow have sate; The deed had then appear’d thine own intent, } A glorious day, by gracious fortune sent, } In each revolving Year to be in triumph spent.} Then in few weeks that cloudy Brow had been, Without a wonder or a whisper seen; And none had been so weak as to enquire, “Why pouts my Lady?” or “why frowns the Squire?”