Ye crowded walls, whose well-enlighten'd round
With lovers sighs and protestations sound,
Ye pictures flatter'd by the learn'd and wise,
Ye glasses ogled by the brightest eyes,
Ye cards, which beauties by their touch have blest,
Ye chairs, which peers and ministers have prest,
How are ye chang'd! like you my fate I moan,
Like you, alas! neglected and alone —
For ah! to me alone no card is come,
I must not go abroad — and cannot