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OF TEMPER.
149


His house complete, its decorations plac'd
By the sure hand of fashionable Taste,
He only wants, to crown his modish life,
That last and finest moveable—a wife.
She too must prove, to fix his coy desire,
Such as the eye of fashion will admire.
His ball is but a jury, to decide
Upon the merit of his fancied bride.
If sweet Serena, on this signal night,
Shines the first idol of the public sight;
If Gallantry's fixt eyes pronounce her fair,
By the sure sign of one unceasing stare;
And if, prophetic of her nobler doom,
Each rival beauty shudders at her bloom;
The dye is cast—he weds—the point is clear;
She cannot slight the vows of such a peer.
Thus argued in his mind the festive earl,
And, lest he lightly choose an awkward girl,
Wisely conven'd, on this important case,
Each fashionable judge of female grace.