THE COQUETTE.

SILLIA, with uncontested fway,

Like Rome's fan'd tyrant reigns; Beholds adoring crowds obey,

And heroes proud to wear her chains:
Yet ftoops, like him, to every prize,
Bufy to murder beaux and flies.

She aims at every trifling heart,
Attends each flatterer's vows;
And, like a picture drawn with art,

A look on all that gaze beftows.
O! may the power who lovers rules,
Grant rather scorn, than hope with fools!
Miftaken nymph! the crowds that gaze
Adore thee into shame;
Unguarded beauty is difgrace,

And coxcombs, when they praise, defame. O fly fuch brutes in human shapes, Nor, like th' Ægyptians, worship apes.

THE WIDOW AND VIRGIN SISTERS.

Being a Letter to the Widow in London.

WHILE Delia fhines at Hurlothrumbo,
And darts her sprightly eye at fune beau;
Then, close behind her fan retiring,

Sees through the flicks whole crowds admiring:
You fip your melancholy co-ffy
And at the name of man, cry, Ophy!
Or, when the noify rapper thunders,
Say coldly-Sure the fellow blunders!
Unfeen though peer on peer approaches:
James, I'm abroad!-but learn the coaches.

As fome young pleader, when his purfe is
Unfill'd, through want of controverlics,
Attends until the chinks are fill'd all,
Th' aflizes, Westminster, and Guildhall;
While graver lawyers keep their houfe, and
Collect the guineas by the thousand;
Or as fome tradefmen, through fhow-glasses,
Expofe their wares to each that paffes;
Toys of no ufe! high-priz'd commodities
Bought to no end! eftates in oddities!
Others, with like advantage, drive at
Their gain, from ftore-houfes in private:
Thus Delia fhites in places general,
Is never mifling where the men are all ;
Goes ev'n to church with godly airs,
To meet good company at prayers;
Where the devoutly plays her fan,
Looks up to heaven, but thinks on man.
You fit at home; enjoy your cousin,
While hearts are offer'd by the dozen;
Oh bern above your fex to rife,
With youth, wealth, beauty, titles-wife!

O Lady bright, did ne'er you mark yet,
In country fair, or country market,
A beau, whole cloquence might charm ye,
Eling foldiers for the army?

A. S

He flatters every well-built youth,
And tells him every thing but-truth.
He cries, good friend, I'm glad I hap'd in
Your company, you'll make a captain!
He lifts-but finds these gaudy shows
Soon chang'd to furly looks, and blows:
'Tis now, March, rafcal! what, d'ye grumble?
Thwack goes the cane! I'll make you humble.
Such weddings are: and I refemble 'em,
Almoft in all points to this emblem.
While courtship lafts, 'tis, Dear! 'tis, Madami
The sweetest creature fure Lince Adam!
Had I the years of a Methufalem,
How in my charmer's praife I'd ufe all 'em!
Oh take me to thy arms, my beauty!
I doat, adore the very fhoe-tie!

They wed-but, fancy grown lefs warming,
Next morn, he thinks the bride lefs charming:
He fays, nay fwears, my wife grows old in
One tingle month; then falls to fcolding,
What, madam, gadding every day!
Up to your room! there ftitch, or pray!

Such proves the marriage-state! but for all Thefe truths, you'll wed, and fcorn the moral

ON THE DEATH OF MY DEAR FRIEN MR. ELIJAH FENTON, 1730. "Calentem "Debitâ fparges lacrymâ favillam

"Vatis amici."

As when the King of Peace, and Lord of Low
Sends down fome brighter angel from above,
Pleas'd with the beauties of the heavenly gue,
Awhile we view him in full glory dreft;
But he, impatient from his heaven to stay,
Soon disappears, and wings his airy way;
So did ft thou vanish, eager to appear,
And shine triumphant in thy native fphere.

air,

Yet had'ft thou all that virtue can beflow, All, the good practife, and the learned know, Such holy rapture, as not warms, but fires, While the foul feems retiring, or retires; Such transports as thofe faints in vifion fhare, Who know not whether they are rapt through [prayer Or bring down heaven to meet them in a} Oh! early loft! yet stedfast to survey Envy, disease, and death, without dismay; Serene, the fting of pain thy thoughts begui And make afflictions, objects of a smile. So the fam'd patriarch on his couch of stone, Enjoy'd bright vifions from th' eternal throne. Thus wean'd from earth, where pleature Kara

can please,

Thy woes but haften'd thee to heav'n and pea As angry winds, when loud the tempest rears, More fwiftly fpeed the veffel to the Thores.

Oh! may thefe lays a lafting luftre shed O'er thy dark urn, like lamps that grace the del Strong were thy thoughts, yet reafon bore h fway;

Humble, yet learn'd; though innocent yet gaa

The gr

So pure of heart, that thou might'ft fafely show
Thy inmoft bofom to thy bafeft foe:
Careless of wealth, thy blifs a calm retreat,
Far from the infults of the fcornful great;
hence looking with difdain on proudest things,
Thou deem't mean the pageantry of kings;
Who build their pride on trappings of a throne,
A painted ribband or a glittering ftone,
Ufelefsly bright! 'Twas thine the foul to raise
To nobler objects, fuch as angels praife!
To live, to mortals' empty fame a foe;
And pity human joy, and human woe!

To view ev'n fplendid vice with generous hate;
in life unblemish d, and in death fedate!
When confcience, fhining with a lenient ray,
Dawn'd o'er the foul, and promis'd endless day.
o from the fetting orb of Phoebus fly
leams of calm light, and glitter to the sky.
Where now, oh! where fhall I true friendship
find

mong the treacherous race of bafe mankind? Whom, whom confult in all th' uncertain ways f various life, fincere to blame, or praife! friend! O falling in thy ftrength of years! Tarm from the melting foul receive these tears! woods! O wilds! O every bowery shade! often vocal by his mufic made,

ow other founds-far other founds return, nd o'er his herfe with all your echoes mourn !--et dare we grieve that foon the paths he trod o heaven, and left vain man for faints and God?

Thus in the theatre the scenes unfold thoufand wonders glorious to behold; nd here, or there, as the machine extends, hero rifes, or a god defcends: ut foon the momentary pleasure flies, wift vanishes the god, or hero dies. Where were ye, mufes, by what fountain fide, hat river fporting, when your favourite dy'd? e knew by verfe to chain the headlong floods, 'ence loud winds, or charm attentive woods; or deign'd but to high themes to tune the ftring,

fuch as heaven might hear, and angels fing; alike thofe bards, who uninform'd to play, rate on their jarring pipes a flashy lay: ch line difplay'd united ftrength and cafe, rm'd like his manners to inftruct and please. So herbs of balmy excellence produce blooming flower and falutary juice: id while each plant a fmiling grace reveals, fully gay at once it charms, and heals. Tranfcend ev'n after death, ye great, in how; nd pomp to afhes, and be vain in woe;' re fubftitutes to mourn with formal cries, ad bribe unwilling drops from venal eyes; hile here fincerity of grief appears, ence that speaks, and eloquence in tears! hile, tir'd of life, we but confent to live ofhow the world how really we grieve! =fome fond fire, whofe only fon lies dead, 1 loft to comfort makes the duft his bed,

1

Mr. Fenton intended to write upon moraļ filjap

Hangs o'er his urn, with frantic grief deplores, And bathes his clay-cold cheek with copious flowers;

Such heart-felt pangs on thy fad bier attend;
Companion brother! all in one-my friend!
Unless the foul a wound eternal bears,

Sighs are but air; but common water, tears:
The proud, relentless, weep in state, and show
Not forrow, but magnificence of woe.

Thus in the fountain, from the fculptor's hands,
With imitated life, an image ftands;
From rocky entrails, through his stony eyes,
The mimic tears in ftreams inceffant rife:
Unconscious while aloft the waters flow,
The gazers' wonder, and a public show.

Ye hallow'd domes, his frequent visits tell;
Thou court, where God himfelf delights to dwell;
Thou myftic table, and thou holy feast,
How often have ye feen the facred gueft!
How oft his foul with heavenly manna fed!
His faith enliven'd, while his fin lay dead!
While liftening angels heard fuch raptures rise,
As, when they hymn th' Almighty, charm the
fkies!

But where, now where, without the body's aid,
New to the heavens, fubfifts thy gentle shade?
Glides it beyond our grofs imperfect sky,
Pleas'd high o'er ftars, from world to world, to fly!
And fearless marks the comet's dreadful blaze,
While monarchs quake, and trembling nations
gaze?

Or holds deep converfe with the mighty dead,
Champions of virtue, who for virtue bled?
Or joins in concert with angelic choirs,
Where hymning feraphs found their golden lyres,
Where raptur'd faints unfading crowns inwreath,
Triumphant o'er the world, o'er fin, and death?
O may the thought his friend's devotion raife!
O may he imitate, as well as praise !
Awake, my heavy foul! and upward fly,
Speak to the faint, and meet him in the sky,
And ask the certain way to rife as high.

TO THOMAS MARRIOT, ESQ.

}

I PREFIX your name to the following poem, as a monument of the long and fincere friendship I have borne you: I am fenfible you are too good a judge of poetry to approve it; however, it will be a teftimony of my refpect: You conferred obligations upon me very early in life, almost as foon as I was capable of receiving them: May thefe verfes on death long furvive my own! and retude, when I am no more. main a memorial of our friendship and my grati

WILLIAM BROOME

See! in the horrors of yon house of woes,
Troops of all maladies the fiend enclose!
High on a trophy rais'd of human bones,
Swords, fpears, and arrows, and fepulchral stones,
In horrid ftate fhe reigns! attendant ills
Befiege her throne, and when the frowns the kills:
Through the thick gloom the torch red-gleaming
burns.

O'er fhrowds, and fable palls, and mouldering urns; While flowing ftoles, black plumes, and fcutcheons fpread

An idle pomp around the filent dead:

Unaw'd by power, in common heap the flings
The fcrips of beggars, and the crowns of kings:
Here gales of fighs, instead of breezes, blow,
And ftreams of tears for ever murmuring flow:
The mournful yew with folemn horror waves
His baleful branches, faddening even the graves:
Around all birds obfcene loud fcreaming fly,
Clang their black wings, and fhriek along the fky:
The ground perverfe, though bare and barren,
breeds

All poifon, foes to life, and noxious weeds;
But, blafted frequent by th' unwholesome sky,
Dead fall the birds, the very poifons die.

Full in the entrance of the dreadful doors,
Old-age, half vanish'd to a ghoft, deplores:
Propp'd on his crutch, he drags with many a groan
The load of life, yet dreads to lay it down.

There, downward driving an unnumber'd band, Intemperance and disease walk hand in hand : Thefe, torment, whirling with remorseless fway A fcourge of iron, lafhes on the way.

There frantic anger, prone to wild extremes, Grafps an enfanguin'd fword, and heaven blafphemes.

There heart fick agony distorted flands,
Writhes his convulfive limbs, and wrings his hands.
There forrow droops his ever-penfive head,
And care still toffes on his iron bed:
Or, mufing, faftens on the ground his eye
With folded arms; with every breath a figh.
Hydrops unwieldy wallows in a flood;
And murder rages, red with human blood,
With fever, famine, and afflictive pain,
Plague, peftilence, and war, a difmal train!
Thefe and a thousand more the fiend furround,
Shrieks pierce the air, and groans to groans refound.
O heavens! is this the pafi ge to the fkies
That man muft tread, when man your favourite
dies?

Oh! for Elijah's car to wing my way
O'er the dark gulf of death to endless day!

Confounded at the fight my fpirits ficd.
My eyes rain'd tears, my very heart was dead!
I wail'd the lot of man, that all would fhun,
And all must bear that breathe beneath the fun.
When lo an heavenly form, divinely fair,
Shoots from the ftarry vault through fields of air;
And fwifter than on wings of lightning driven,
At once feems here and there, in earth and heaven!
A dazzling brightnefs in refulgent streams
Flows from his locks inwreath'a with funny beams:
His rofeate checks the bloom of heaven difplay,
And from his eyes dart glories more than day:

A robe of light condens'd around him shore, And his loins glitter'd with a starry zone: And while the liftening winds lay hufh'd to her Thus spoke the vifion, amiably fevere!

Vain man wouldst thou escape the commen To live, to fuffer, die, and be forgot? Look back on ancient times, primæ val years, All, all are paft! a mighty void appears! Heroes and kings, thofe gods of earth, wholef Aw'd half the nations, now are but a name! The great in arts or arms, the wife, the juft, Mix with the meaneft in congenial duft! Ev'n faints and prophets the fame paths have Ambaffadors of heaven, and friends of God' And thou, wouldst thou the gene al fenterce Mofes is dead! thy Saviour deign'd to die! Mortal, in all thy acts regard thy end; Live well the time thou liv'ft, and death: friend : 1

Then curb each rebel thought against the y And die refign'd, O man ordain'd to die!

He added not, but spread his wings in figh And vanish d inftant in a blaze of light.

Abafh'd, afham'd, I cry, Eternal Power, I yield' I wait refign'd th' appointed hour! Man, foolish man, no more thy foul deceive To die, is but the fureft way to live: When age we afk, we afk it in our wrong, And pray our time of fuffering may be long; The naufeous draught, and dregs of life to da And feel infirmity, and length of pain! What art thou, life, that we should court the A breath, one fingle gafp must puff away A short-liv'd flower, that with the day mulA fleeting vapour, and an empty shade! A ftream that filently, but swiftly glides To meet eternity's immeafur'd tides! A being, loft alike by pain or joy! A fly can kill it, or a worm destroy! Impair'd by labour, and by eafe undone, Commenc'd in tears, and ended in a groan' Ev'n while I write, the transient Now is rad And death more near this fentence than the As fome weak ifthmus feas from feas divides, Beat by rude waves, and fapp'd by rushing t Torn from its bafe, no more their fury bear At once they clofe, at once it disappears: Such, fuch is life! the mark of mifery placi Between two worlds, the future and the p To time, to ficknefs, and to death a prey, It fints, the frail possession of a day!

As fome fond boy in sport along the fhort Builds from the fands a fabric of an hour; Proud of his fpacious walls and stately routs, He ftyles the mimic cells imperial domes; The little monarch fwells with fancy'd fway, Till fome wind rifing puffs the dome away. So the poor reptile, man! an heir of woe, The lord of earth and ocean, fwells in fhow; He plants, he builds, aloft the walls arife! The noble plan he finishes, and-dies Swept from the earth, he shares the commen His fole diftinction now, to rot in ftate! Thus bufy to no end till out of breath, Tir'd we lie down, and close up all in death.