The Patowmac Guardian, And Berkeley Advertiser

SEAT OF THE MUSES.

On a Ball at Tunbridge, where there were twenty seven Ladies, and only two Gentlemen.

Genius of Tunbridge! say, what wond'rous cause,
Can tempt your Beaux to break decorum's laws?
For, ah! too truly has the patriot said,
Europe's no more since chivalry has fled,
And who calls this the spirit of romance,
That Belles should wish, and Beaux refuse to dance?
What, has Mendoza's art so seiz'd the soul,
That lovely eyes with unpriz'd lustre roll
What, shall a bruizer's fist your praise command
Whilst beauty waves in vain the willing hand?
Spoke I of lovely eyes? they're lost on you,
You love no eyes but what are black and blue--
Proceed, great visitants! banish every grace,
Let rudeness or indifference fill their place;
Erect the trophies of your art renown'd,
Let ribs be broken, but let hearts be found-
Ye little stars! tho' you withdraw your rays,
You nought impart true beauty's native blaze-
Your presence would have dimm'd the charms divine,
Which, when unmix'd, from graceful females shine.
The rosy hours and those harmonious maids,
Whose music gladdens the Parnassian shades,
Ask no male partners, but with joy advance,
To meet their sisters in the mazy dance.--
See no faint copy of those fabled fair,
You blooming band, who seem to tread in air:
As on the dazzl'd sight the mingled charm,
Luxuriant swells, with nature's colouring warm.--
O beauty, worthy of Idalia's glades,
Whilst, round the Cyprian Queen, her smiling maids,
Blushing wild youth with love's full radiance crown'd
Lead to light trains the gaily varied round.
Bright kindred pair! who crown the sportive rings,
Soft smiling Hobart! and majestic Brer!"
Lives there a wretch who'd not exulting stand.
And snatch the honor of your proffer'd hand,
Whilst with resistless elegance you glide,
Like a fair vessel, o'er the favouring tide,
And as soft gales of admiration blow,
With conscious, yet with modest beauty glow.
Why did we not, congenial graces! see
The absent sister to complete the three?
Where was the nymph, whose eyes of sable hue,
Pierce at one glance a shallow coxcomb through;
Whose rip'ning bloom, like sol's first blushing ray,
Proclaims the rising glories of the day.
Be grateful, Beaux! and triumph that her face
And form was wanting to your full disgrace.

CARLOS.

* Lady Amelia Hobart and Miss Brer, who are cousins.
+ The youngest Miss Brer, who was not present.