By the side of a glimmering fire, 
Melinda sat pensively down, 
Impatient of rural esquire, 
And vex'd to be absent from Town. 
The cricket, from under the grate, 
With a chirp to her sighs did reply, 
And the kitten, as grave as a cat, 
Sat mournfully purring hard by. 
"Alas! silly maid that I was!" 
Thus sadly complaining, she cried; 
"When first I forsook that dear place, 
'T were better by far I had died! 
How gaily I pass'd the long day, 
In a round of continu'd delight; 
Park, visits, assemblies, and play, 
And quadrille to enliven the night. 
"How simple was I to believe 
Delusive poetical dreams! 
The flattering landskips they give 
Of groves, meads, and murmuring streams. 
Bleak mountains, and wild staring rocks, 
Are the wretched result of my pains; 
The swains greater brutes than their flocks, 
And the nymphs as polite as the swains. 
"What though I have skill to ensnare, 
Where Smarts in bright circles abound; 
What though at St. James's at prayers, 
Beaux ogle devoutly around: 
Fond virgin, thy power is lost, 
On a race of rude Hottentot brutes; 
What glory in being the toast 
Of noisy dull 'squires in boots? 
"And thou, my companion, so dear, 
My all that is left of relief, 
Whatever I suffer, forbear -- 
Forbear to dissuade me from grief: 
'Tis in vain then, you'll say to repine 
At ills which cannot be redress'd, 
But in sorrows so pungent as mine, 
To be patient, alas! is a test. 
"If, further to soothe my distress, 
Thy tender compassion is led, 
Call Jenny to help me undress, 
And decently put me to bed. 
The last humble solace I wait, 
Would Heaven indulge me the boon, 
Some dream less unkind than my fate, 
In a vision transport me to Town. 
"Clarissa, meantime, weds a beau, 
Who decks her in golden array; 
The finest at every fine show, 
And flaunts it at Park and at Play; 
Whilst here we are left in the lurch, 
Forgot and secluded from view; 
Unless when some bumpkin at church 
Stares wistfully over the pew."