For her inconftant man might cease to range,
And gratitude forbid defire to change.
Thus I, dear B, would your charms improve,
And form your heart to all the arts of love.
The talk were harder to fecure my own
Against the power of those already known:
For well you twift the fecret chains that bind,
The gentle force which captivates the mind;
Skill'd ev'ry soft attraction to employ,
Each flattering hope, and each alluring joy.
I own your genius, and from you receive
The rules of pleafing, which to you I give.
HILE various schemes the female world employ,
And give variety of grief or joy;
Whether in courtly drawing-rooms they shine,
Or in the eye of majesty repine;
Whether or Drury's theatre invite,
Or Hurlathrumbo's motly scenes delight;
Whether to midnight masquerades they roam,
Or feed their spleen and fay their pray'rs at home;
Whether at balls with each each beauty vies,
Or truft their paffion to the chance of dice;
Alone, retir'd, from all vain converse free,
I fit the lonesome hours and think of Thee.
Which way foe'er thy curious foul incline,
My eager wishes ftill thy footsteps join:
Thro' feas, o'er plains, the mountain or the vale,
Wherever coach can roll or fhip can fail,
Thee my warm thought attends; tho' here in pain
I drag reluctant life's unwieldy chain.
Albion, in vain by azure seas confin'd,
Can fet no limits to a lover's mind.
What, tho' her laws breath liberty and joy,
Thraldom were better with my lovely boy :
What, tho' her climate boafts the genial ray,
Thy eyes on Lapland's coaft would light up day :
What, tho' her vallies laugh, her mountains fing,
Tho' the corporeal eye be fed with spring;
Yet to the fond, the tastless mind within
Nature in vain prefents the gaudy scene:
Nature with Thee is nature doubly gay;
Depriv'd of Thee her glories fade away.
As deep canals without a ftream to flow;
As meads devoid of ftarry flow'rets fhew;
As gloomy mornings, which no fun adorns
¿
As night unblefs'd with Cynthia's filver horns;
Such is thy CALIA's fate, thus torn from Thee:
Oh! would the gods reverse the fad decree!
For Thee this land of freedom I'd refign,
And bless my fate beneath the burning line:
Undaunted there, where rav'ning monfters roar,
Thy innocence would charm the foaming boar.
The Libyan deferts Paradise would be ;
For deferts are no folitudes with Thee.
Tho? VIRGIL'S Mufe in all the grace of found
To future ages confecrate the ground;
Tho' ADDISON his master's footsteps trod,
And fung in ftrains which well befit a God,
Yet, Italy, thy blooming vales I fcorn'd;
But 'twas when STREPHON's looks this ifle adorn'd..
Impartial now, I praise each heav'nly theme,
And fink the pride of Thames in Tyber's ftream.
Pardon, ye mufes all divine and true;
I own the tribute SANNAZARIUS' due.
Oh! turn from Adria's coaft thy blissful eye,
And breath to this dark ifle one mournful figh;
With Me awhile to fecret grief remove,
And fink thy curiofity in love.
Ah! deareft breaft, forever think of Me;
This abfence gives; 'tis all I afk of Thee:
Each day, abstracted from affemblage, join
Grief to my grief, and echoe figh to mine.
Thus heav'n our mutual tenderness shall fee,
And give thee back to England and to Me.
EHOLD! how quiet there old GRIPUS lies!
The shroud and coffin now is all his ftore.
His brain no longer rack'd with endless schemes,
How to add houfe to house and land to land.
His tongue harangues not on the frugal ways
And artful methods that he took to thrive.
His heart now beats no more: clos'd are those eyes,
That heretofore with eager transport view'd
The fhining metal into mountains rise,
But never knew to fhed one pitying tear.
Those hands, fo ready and expert to count
Int'reft on int'reft nor one farthing mifs,
Lie useless by his fide, the nerves relax'd;
Fill them with gold, alas! they will not clench.
His feet, fo fwift in the pursuit of gain
Now here now there, as bargains led the way,
A thread of worfted faft as iron binds.
Within the limits of four fcanty boards.
See, see the man, whose daring genius grafp'd
At large domains and immense fums of cash,
Mortal, reflect, reckon aright, be wife,
And bound thy wishes to the human span,
Since to command one hour is not in gold.
Well known vase of soveraign use I fing,
Pleafing to young and old, and JORDAN hight.
The lovely queen, and eke the haughty king
Snatch up this veffel in the murky night:
Ne lives there poor, ne lives there wealthy wight,
But uses it in mantle brown or green;
Sometimes it ftands array'd in gloffy white;
And eft in mighty dortours may be seen
Of China's fragile earth, with azure flowrets sheen,
The virgin, comely as the dewy rofe,
Here gently sheds the foftly-whifp'ring rill;
The frannion, who ne fhame ne blushing knows,
At once the potter's gloffy vase does fill ;
It whizzes like the waters from a mill.
Here frouzy housewives clear their loaded reins;
The beef-fed juftice, who fat ale doth fwill,
Grafps the round-handled jar, and tries, and strains,
While flowly dribbling down the scanty water drains.
The dame of Fraunce fhall without fhame convey
This ready needment to its proper place;
Yet fhall the daughters of the lond of Fay
Learn better amenaunce and decent grace;
Warm blufhes lend a beauty to their face,
For virtue's comely tints their cheeks adorn;
Thus o'er the diftant hillocks you may trace
The purple beamings of the infant morn:
Sweet are our blooming maids-the sweetest creatures born.
None but their husbands or their lovers true
They truft with management of their affairs;
Nor even these their privacy may view,
When the foft beavys feek the bow'r by pairs:
Then from the fight accoy'd, like tim❜rous hares,
From mate or bellamour alike they fly;
Think not, good swain, that these are scornful airs, Think not for hate they fhun thine am'rous eye, Soon fhall the fair return, nor done thee, youth, to dye.
While Belgic frows acrofs a charcoal ftove
(Replenish'd like the Vestal's lasting fire)
Bren for whole years, and scorch the parts of love, No longer parts that can delight infpire, Erft cave of blifs, now monumental pyre; O British maid, for ever clean and neat, For whom I aye will wake my fimple lyre, With double care preferve that dun retreat, Fair Venus' myftic bow'r, Dan Cupid's feather'd feat.
So may your hours soft-sliding steal away,
Unknown to gnarring flander and to bale,
O'er feas of blifs Peace guide her gondelay,
Ne bitter dole impeft the paffing gale.
O! fweeter than the lillies of the dale,
In your foft breafts the fruits of joyance grow.
Ne fell Despair be here with visage pale,
Brave be the youth from whom your bofoms glow, Ne other joy but you the faithful striplings know,
|