University of Virginia Library

TO MISS C. BRACKENBURY, OF COPT-FOLD-HALL, IN ESSEX.

Invoking Fortune yet losing the Raffle.

As Fortune from her birth was blind,
We should not call the dame unkind,
When worth and beauty she forsakes,
We ought to pity her mistakes;
That ladies lose what coxcombs win,
Is more her sorrow than her sin;
And tho' she show'rs her favours down
On blockheads, who deserve her frown;
On Pride bestows a coach and six,
And plays a thousand silly tricks;
To Folly gives the prosp'ring gale,
Neglecting Wisdom in the vale;
Mounts Vice upon her golden throne,
While cottag'd Virtue weeps alone,
At random lends a title here,
Refusing ev'ry honor there.
Now gives the knave a lucky hit,
Plumps the dull rogue and starves the wit,
Tho' 'tis confess'd she ev'ry hour
Discovers some abuse of power;
And tho' she blunder'd yester night,
What doth it prove, but want of sight?
Poor Goddess! could she but have seen,
Her Brackenbury's ardent mein,
Th' impassion'd glow, the anxious air,
That guard the hope illumin'd fair;
O had she but the gift of eyes
None else had born away the prize!
Perhaps, in wisdom, 'tis design'd
The Goddess should continue blind;
Fortune and Love restor'd to sight,
What mischief had been done last night,
Both had resign'd their wheels and darts,
And gain'd their eyes—to lose their hearts.