“ And, after all, to crown my spleen,
“ Be told you are not to be seen.
“ Or, if you are, be forc'd to bear
" The awe of your majestic air.
“. And can I then be faulty found
.“ In dreading this vexatious round?
“ Can it be strange, if I eschew
« A scene fo glorious and so new?
• Or is he criminal that Aies
“ The living luftre of your eyes ?”

I often try'd in vain

to find
A fimile for woman-kind,
A simile I mean to fit 'em,
In every circumstance to hit 'em.

Through

Through every beast and bird I went,
I ransack'd ev'ry element,
And, after peeping through all nature
To find so whimsical a creature,
A cloud presented to my view,
And strait this parallel I drew :

Clouds turn with ev'ry wind about,
They keep us in suspence and doubt,
Yet oft perverse, like woman-kind,
Are seen to scud against the wind;
And are not women just the same?
For, who can tell at what they aim ?

Clouds keep the stoutest mortals under, When bellowing they discharge their

thunder; So when th' alarum-bell is

rung, Of * Xanti's everlasting tongue,

The

• XANTI, a nick name for those of the present age, who. XANTIPPE, that scold of glo. are poffefs'd of the like laudarious memory, who never let ble talents : for I will confess, poor Socrates have one mo- that I know three in the city ment's peace of mind, yet with of Dublin, no way inferior to unexampled patience he bore XANTIPPE, but that they have her peftilential tongue. I thall not as great mento work upon. beg the ladies pardon, if I in- When a friend asked Sosert a few passages concerning crates, how he could bear her; and at the same time I the scolding of his wife XAN-, affure chem, it is not to lessen TIPPE, he retorted, and asked

U3

him,

The husband dreads its loudness more Than light’ning's flash, or thunder's roar.

Clouds weep, as they do, without pain, And what are tears but womens rain ?

The clouds about the welkin roam, And ladies never stay at home..

The clouds build castles in the air, A thing peculiar to the fair; For all the schemes of their forecasting Are not more folid, nor more lasting.

A cloud is light by turns, and dark,
Such is a lady with her spark ;
Now with a sudden pouting gloom
She seem to darken all the room ;
Again she’s pleas’d, his fears beguild.
And all is clear when she has smil'd.
In this they're wondrously alike
(I hope the fimile will ftrike),
Though in thedarkestdumps you view’em,
Stay, but a moment you'll see through’em.

The clouds are apt to make reflection,
And frequently produce infection;
So Cælia, with small provocation,
Blasts ev'ry neighbour's reputation.

The clouds delight in gaudy show,
For they, like ladies, have their beau;
The gravest matron will confess,
That she herself is fond of dress.

Observe the clouds in pomp array'd,
What various colours are display'd,
The pink, the rose, the vi’let's dye,
In that great drawing-room the sky;
How do these differ from our graces,
In garden-silks, brocades, and laces?

Are they not such another fight,
When met upon a birth-day night?
The clouds delight to change their

fashion:
Dear ladies, be not in a passion,
Nor let this whim to

you

feem strange, Who ev'ry hour delight in change.

In them and you alike are seen
The sullen symptoms of the spleen ;
The moment that your vapours rise,
We see them dropping from your eyes.

In ev’ning fair you may behold
The clouds are fring’dwith borrow'd gold,
And this is many a lady's case,
Who flaunts about in * borrow'd lace.

Grave matrons are like clouds of snow,
Their words fall thick, and soft and flow,
While brisk coquets, like rattling hail,
Our ears on ev'ry side affail.

Clouds, when they intercept our sight, Deprive us of celestial light:

* Not Flanders lace, but

to pay, as many of them did gold and silver lace. By bor- for French silver lace against rowed, is meant such as run the last birth-day. Vid. tbe in honest tradesmen's debts shopkeepers books. for what they were not able

So