An Epithalamium

'Twas at the wedding-feast, for Celia won, By Cymon's coxcomb son: Aloft in dwarfish state The foplike bridegroom sat, And made a deal of fun! His gallant peers around were plac'd, Their hair all curl'd and dress'd in newest taste: (Of powder what prodigious waste!) The simp'ring Celia by his side, His lace and gew-gaws fondly ey'd, And swell'd her little heart with pride. Proper, proper, proper pair! None but a rake, None but a rake, Such pains would take, to gain a fickle fair.

MUNGO was there, and did well, And led the cap'ring choir; With fumbling fingers twang'd the fiddle: The notes awake the am'rous fire, And drinking joys inspire. The song began of beaux, And whence the order rose; (Such wond'rous things a fidler knows.) A Monkey's grinning form in utmost vigour, Bely'd a macaroni's noble figure;