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THE SWITCH, OR MAID OF KENDAL.

A TALE FOR THE LADIES;

Respectfully addressed to the Spinstresses of the United Empire.

BY WM. CAREY, ESQ.

THE Muse's vernal shades beneath,
From busy themes, awhile, I breathe,
No more the fate of war rehearse,
Dear, lovely Woman claims my verse.

Ye Fair, who beauty justly prize,
And in the mirror turn your eyes,
With growing pleasure ev'ry hour,
Exulting in your sov'reign pow'r,
To triumph in the vermeil glow
That youth and happy days bestow;
To practise o'er to-morrow's wiles
Of radiant looks and pensive smiles;
To teach the ringlets where to play,
That o'er the lovely forehead stray,
The braid coronal proudly deck,
Or lightly shade the snowy neck;
The virgin bosom-But, beware
My Muse! nor let Description dare,

With bold unhallow'd gaze, to rove
Beneath the mystic veil of love.

Ye Maids, my serious tale attend,
And own the Poet for your friend:
What, though you pride in show and dressing,
A husband's a substantial blessing.

Near Kendal, in a neat abode,
Sequester'd from the dusty road,
There liv'd-I don't exactly know
How many years it was ago-
A widow, who, at fifty, found
Old age upon her gaining ground;
So quickly she began to break,
Her sight grew dim, her feeling weak;
A plaguy deafness stopp'd her ears;
Yet, still, she struggl'd with her fears:
But, when a palsy seiz'd her tongue,
A weight upon her spirits hung,
For she was sure that fatal sign
Foretold a woman's last decline!

Fearing to leave alone her daughter,
To wed she earnestly besought her.-
The lovely Dora, young and gay,
In blooming beauty's sportive May,
While ev'ry morn bestow'd a lover,
Could, at a glance, their faults discover.
Instructed, in Lavater's school,
To love and hate by settled rule,
She, by their features, could detect
Each hypocrite of ev'ry sect;
By form of eye-brows could foretel
Who'd act the husband ill or well;
In broad sleek countenance could find
The symbol of an empty mind;

In deep blue eye, and pointed chin,
Could reckon ev'ry spendthrift sin;
And prove the owner void of grace,
By dint of his immoral face.
Red hair, a cruel soul-display'd;
The flaxen hue, a knave betray'd;
A thrifty Suitor woo'd her pelf';
The handsome, only lov'd-himself;
The vice of play in this she fear'd;
Too light and fickle that appear'd;
This short in person; that too tall;
An income or a nose too small;
In these, or crimes like these, detected,
Her lovers were with scorn rejected.—

The Matron, an experienced dame,
Would seriously her daughter blame;
And quaver out some ancient saying,
"The danger of a maid's delaying."--
Then warmly would the matter push,
"What signifies a bird in bush ?—
"One caught,-good women understand-
"Is worth a hundred out of hand!”---

"Dear Dora go"-one day, she said-"Unto the hedge, in yonder mead,

The STRAIGHTEST SWITCH from thence to chuse-But all your best discretion use;

At yonder elm your search commence,

Success will best approve your sense;
Reject not without hesitation,

And chuse with due deliberation;
For, mark me, where you once refuse,
You must not turn again to chuse."

The Maid reply'd-" By yonder stile
I'll go-and stay so short a while,

You may fill out my tea to cool;
Thank Heav'n! I'm not so great a fool,
Nor yet, I think, so very blind,
But what you want I'll quickly find."
Then, breathing sweets, with spirits gay,
Light o'er the turf she tripp'd away;

Soon pass'd the stile, the elm beside,

A TALL, STRAIGHT SWITCH, at once, she spied:
She stretch'd her hand-out, hesitating,

And inwardly deliberating,

Though much averse to loiter long,

"To chuse so quickly might be wrong:Mamma was good-her stay might fret her

But, farther on, she saw a better."

To that she flew, but found, when near,
It did not quite so straight appear:
One, further still, she saw, and then
She found herself deceiv'd again.
"Twas odd, but with more crooked bent
They grew, the farther on she went:
At ev'ry step, now, more perplex'd,
She oft look'd back, asham'd and vex'd,
Through apprehensions of the worst,
Regretting that she left the first;
And, chusing none, when all were pass'd,
Return'd without a Switch at last.

Ye Maids! alas, her tea was cold!
And sick Mamma ev'n still could scold;
But having fully gain'd her view,
This moral from the fact she drew:

"There is a tide-I hate delays

"In Man's affairs-as Milton* says

Milton for Shakespeare; a proof that the old Lady's memory had, in some degree, participated in the failure of her other powers.

{

"He might have said, in Woman's too-
"And, if he had-'twere full as true-
"That should be taken at the flood,
"Or neither ever come to good.
"Dear Dora-as you could not find
"In yon, a SWITCH to please your mind,
"So, I'm afraid, your curious eye
"May pass the crowd of lovers by.
"Remember youth not long will tarry,
"And you may, one day, wish to marry;
"You then may for a Husband sigh
"When Men, in turn, will pass you by."—
She ceas'd. The Maid with frowns replied,
The wise old Dame soon after dy'd.-
The years roll'd on; Dorinda gay,
In pleasure laugh'd the years away;
"Till graver grown, and somewhat mellow,
She vow'd to please some charming fellow;
At forty, rather in a haste,

-

Resolv'd no more her youth to waste;

The tender frolic seiz'd her head,

And she was fix'd, at once, to wed;

But strange, alas, no Lover offer'd,

Where crowds so oft their vows had proffer'd.
The years roll'd on,-Dorinda sad,
With hope delay'd, grew almost mad:
Dame Scandal whisper'd that she swore
To trust Lavater's rules no more:
Paints, patches, powders, cosmetics,
She hourly try'd, her charms to fix;
Call'd ev'ry fashion to her aid,
And ev'ry rage of mode display'd;
But Art with Nature strove in vain,
Through all disguise the fact was plain;

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