Though not inspired by lofty hopes, the youth
Placed much reliance on Lord Frederick’s truth;
Summon’d to town, he thought the visit one
Where something fair and friendly would be done;
Although he judged not, as before his fall,
When all was love and promise at the hall. 
   Arrived in town, he early sought to know
The fate such dubious friendship would bestow;
At a tall building trembling he appear’d,
And his low rap was indistinctly heard;
A well-known servant came—­“Awhile,” said he,
“Be pleased to wait; my Lord has company.” 
   Alone our hero sat; the news in hand,
Which though he read, he could not understand: 
Cold was the day; in days so cold as these
There needs a fire, where minds and bodies freeze. 
The vast and echoing room, the polish’d grate,
The crimson chairs, the sideboard with its plate;
The splendid sofa, which, though made for rest,
He then had thought it freedom to have press’d;
The shining tables, curiously inlaid,
Were all in comfortless proud style display’d;
And to the troubled feelings terror gave,
That made the once-dear friend the sick’ning slave. 
   “Was he forgotten?” Thrice upon his ear
Struck the loud clock, yet no relief was near: 
Each rattling carriage, and each thundering stroke
On the loud door, the dream of fancy broke;
Oft as a servant chanced the way to come,
“Brings he a message?” no! he passed the room.’ 
At length ’tis certain; “Sir, you will attend
At twelve on Thursday!” Thus the day had end. 
   Vex’d by these tedious hours of needless pain,
John left the noble mansion with disdain;
For there was something in that still, cold place,
That seemed to threaten and portend disgrace. 
   Punctual again the modest rap declared
The youth attended; then was all prepared: 
For the same servant, by his lord’s command,
A paper offer’d to his trembling hand: 
“No more!” he cried:  “disdains he to afford
One kind expression, one consoling word?”
   With troubled spirit he began to read
That “In the Church my lord could not succeed;”
Who had “to peers of either kind applied,
And was with dignity and grace denied;
While his own livings were by men possess’d,
Not likely in their chancels yet to rest;
And therefore, all things weigh’d (as he my lord,
Had done maturely, and he pledged his word),
Wisdom it seem’d for John to turn his view
To busier scenes, and bid the Church adieu!”
   Here grieved the youth:  he felt his father’s pride
Must with his own be shocked and mortified;
But, when he found his future comforts placed
Where he, alas! conceived himself disgraced —
In some appointment on the London quays,
He bade farewell to honour and to ease;
His spirit fell, and from that hour assured
How vain his dreams, he suffer’d and was cured. 
   Our Poet hurried on, with wish to fly