Courage, dear Moll, and drive away despair. <br />Mopsa, who in her youth was scarce thought fair, <br />In spite of age, experience, and decays, <br />Sets up for charming in her fading days; <br />Snuffs her dim eyes to give one parting blow, <br />Have at the heart of every ogling beau! <br />This goodly goose, all feather'd like a jay, <br />So gravely vain and so demurely gay, <br />Last night, to grace the Court, did overload <br />Her bald buff forehead with a high commode; <br />Her steps were manag'd with such tender art, <br />As if each board had been a lover's heart. <br />In all her air, in every glance, was seen <br />A mixture strange, 'twixt fifty and fifteen. <br />Crowds of admiring fops about her press; <br />Hampden himself delivers their address, <br />Which she, accepting with a nice disdain, <br />Owns them her subjects and begins to reign. <br />Fair Queen of Fopland is her royal stile -- <br />Fopland! the greatest part of this great isle! <br /> <br />Nature did ne'er more equally divide <br />A female heart, 'twixt piety and pride. <br />Her watchful maids prevent the peep of day, <br />And all in order on her toilet lay: <br />Prayer books and patch box, sermon notes and paint, <br />At once t'improve the sinner and the saint. <br />Farewell, friend Moll: expect no more from me; <br />But if you would a full description see, <br />You'll find her somewhere in the litany, <br />With pride, vainglory, and hypocrisy.<br /><br />Charles Sackville<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-the-countess-dowager-of-manchester-2/
