WITH Clytia he no longer was received, Than while he was a man of wealth believed; Balls, concerts, op'ras, tournaments, and plays, Expensive dresses, all engaging ways, Were used to captivate this lady fair, While scarcely one around but in despair, Wife, widow, maid, his fond affection sought; To gain him, ev'ry wily art was brought; But all in vain:--by passion overpow'red, The belle, whose conduct others would have soured, To him appeared a goddess full of charms, Superior e'en to Helen, in his arms; From whence we may conclude, the beauteous dame Was always deaf to Fred'rick's ardent flame. ENAMOURED of the belle, his lands he sold; The family estates were turned to gold; And many who the purchases had made, With pelf accumulated by their trade, Assumed the airs of men of noble birth:-- Fair subjects oft for ridicule and mirth! RICH Clytia was, and her good spouse, 'tis said, Had lands which far and wide around were spread; No cash nor presents she would ever take, Yet suffered Frederick splendid treats to make, Without designing recompense to grant, Or being more than merely complaisant. ALREADY, if my mem'ry do not fail, I've said, the youth's estates were put to sale, To pay for feasts the fair to entertain, And what he'd left was only one domain, A petty farm to which he now retired; Ashamed to show where once so much admired, And wretched too, a prey to lorn despair, Unable to obtain by splendid care, A beauty he'd pursued six years and more, And should for ever fervently adore. His want of merit was the cause he thought, That she could never to his wish be brought, While from him not a syllable was heard, Against the lovely belle his soul preferred. 'MID poverty oft Fred'rick sighed and wept; A toothless hag--his only servant kept; His kitchen cold; (where commonly he dwelled;) A pretty decent horse his stable held; A falcon too; and round about the grange, Our quondam 'squire repeatedly would range, Where oft, to melancholy, he was led, To sacrifice the game which near him fed; By Clytia's cruelty the gun was seized, And feathered victims black chagrin appeased. 'TWAS thus the lover whiled his hours away; His heart-felt torments nothing could allay; Blessed if with fortune love he'd also lost, Which constantly his earthly comforts crossed; But this lorn passion preyed upon his mind:-- Where'er he rode, BLACK CARE would mount behind.