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OF TEMPER.
83


In triumph now behold the hag applaud
Her keen and fav'rite imp, ingenious Fraud,
Her quick compositor, whose flying hand
Has clos'd the paragraph she keenly plann'd.
No nymph she nam'd, yet mark'd her vile intent,
That dulness could not miss the name she meant:
In satire's tints the injur'd fair she drew,
In form an angel, but in soul a Jew.
It chanc'd her sire among his friends inroll'd
A wealthy senator, infirm and old;
Who, dup'd too early by a generous heart,
Rashly assum'd a misanthropic part:
Tho' peevish fancies would his mind incrust,
Good-nature's image lurk'd beneath their rust;
And gay Serena, with that sportive wit
Which heals the folly that it deigns to hit,
Would oft the sickness of his soul beguile,
And teach the sullen humourist to smile;
Pleas'd by her virtuous frolics to assuage
The mental anguish of distemper'd age,