Elizabeth Moody

Gay Fashion thou Goddess so pleasing, However imperious thy sway; Like a mistress capricious and teasing, Thy slaves tho’ they murmur obey. The simple, the wise, and the witty, The learned, the dunce, and the fool, The crooked, straight, ugly, and pretty, Wear the badge of thy whimsical school. Tho’ thy shape be so fickle and changing, That a Proteus thou art to the view; And our taste so for ever deranging, We know not which form to pursue. Yet wave but thy frolicksome banners, And hosts of adherents we see; Arts, morals, religion, and manners, Yield implicit obedience to thee. More despotic than beauty thy power, More than virtue thy rule o’er the mind: Tho’ transient thy reign as a flower, That scatters its leaves to the wind. Ah! while folly thou dealest such measure, No matter how fleeting thy day! Be Wisdom, dear goddess, thy pleasure! Then lasting as time be thy stay.

Since you are, dear madam, so favoured by time, That he seems to have granted a lease of his prime, With the power to renew it whenever you please; Unencumbered by taxes of age and disease; Prolonging that date, which in others appears, The frail fleeting tenure of very few years: Why could you not ask him some favour to send, Enclosed with a present designed for a friend? One tint for her cheeks of youth’s vivid hue, To suit with those beautiful ribands of blue; One spark for her eyes of a juvenile twinkle, One smile of her mouth undeformed by a wrinkle; One ringlet or two — on her forehead to play, Unmixed with the sorrowful colour of grey? Yet too modest, perhaps, these requests you forbore, Yourself so indebted would not ask for more. And perchance had you teased him, thus Time might reply; ‘That to you I am partial — I will not deny; Nor need I declare — what who sees you must know: That on few I such singular graces bestow. But if from my rules I recede for your sake, And still give to you what from others I take, I cannot for all so go out of my way, And reverse those decrees which all mortals obey. My law is that youth shall soon wither and fade, And like morning’s bright beam shall be followed by shade. Most severe is the sentence I pass on the face, Full soon on its features my finger you trace. Yet I no such dread rigour extend to the mind, In age that still charms if it be but resigned. If calmly beholding fair youth’s setting sun, It with fortitude reckons my sands as they run; Not with peevishness fraught as each wrinkle appears, And resisting my progress with petulant tears. No — your sex must learn patient good humour of you, And meet my approaches with smiles as you do: With temper unruffled by envy or spleen, Like the sun of the autumn — thus mild and serene, Learn of you to converse with politeness and ease; Then in spite of my spoils — they will know how to please.