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Which demands the toilet's aid,
Pendent gems, and rich brocade.
I those charms alone can prize,
Which from constant nature rise,
Which nor circumstance, nor dress,
E'er can make or more or less.

TO A FRIEND.

NO more thus brooding o'er yon heap,
With avarice painful vigils keep;
Still unenjoy'd the present store,
Still endless sighs are breath'd for more.
O! quit the shadow, catch the prize,
Which not all India's treasure buys!
To purchase heaven has gold the power?
Can gold remove the mortal hour?
In life can love be bought with gold?
Are friendship's pleasures to be sold?
No all that's worth a wish-a thought,
Fair virtue gives unbrib'd, unbought.
Cease then on trash thy hopes to bind,
Let nobler views engage thy mind.

With science tread the wond'rous way,

Or learn the muse's moral lay;}
In social hours indulge thy soul,

Where mirth and temp❜rance mix the bowl;

To virtuous love resign thy breast,
And be, by blessing beauty-blest.

Thus taste the feast by nature spread,
Ere youth and all its joys are fled;
Come taste with me the balm of life!
Secure from pomp and wealth and strife.
I boast whate'er for man was meant,
In health, in Stella, and content;
And scorn! O! let that scorn be thine!
Mere things of clay, that dig the mine.

TO A YOUNG LADY,

ON HER BIRTH-DAY.

THIS tributary verse, receive, my fair, Warm with an ardent lover's fondest prayer. May this returning day for ever find

Thy form more lovely, more adorn'd thy mind;
All pains, all cares, may favʼring heav'n remove,
All but the sweet solicitudes of love!

May powerful nature join with grateful art,
To point each glance, and force it to the heart!
O then, when conquer'd crowds confess thy sway,
When e'en proud wealth and prouder wit obey,
My fair, be mindful of the mighty trust,
Alas! 'tis hard for beauty to be just,

Those sovereign charms with strictest care employ ;
Nor give the generous pain, the worthless joy:
With his own form acquaint the forward fool,
Shown in the faithful glass of ridicule ;
Teach mimic censure her own faults to find,
No more let coquettes to themselves be blind,
So shall Belinda's charms improve mankind.

EPILOGUE

Intended to have been spoken by a Lady who was to personate the Ghost of Hermione.

YE blooming train, who give despair or joy, Bless with a smile, or with a frown destroy; In whose fair cheeks destructive Cupids wait, And with unerring shafts distribute fate; Whose snowy breasts, whose animated eyes, Each youth admires, though each admirer dies; Whilst you deride their pangs in barb❜rous play, Unpitying see them weep, and hear them pray, And unrelenting sport ten thousand lives away : For you, ye fair, I quit the gloomy plains, Where sable night in all her horror reigns; No fragrant bowers, no delightful glades, Receive the unhappy ghosts of scornful maids.

For kind, for tender nymphs, the myrtle blooms
And weaves her bending boughs in pleasing glooms;
Perennial roses deck each purple vale,

And scents ambrosial breathe in every gale:
Far hence are banish'd vapours, spleen, and tears,
Tea, scandal, ivory teeth, and languid airs ;
No pug, nor favourite Cupid there enjoys,
The balmy kiss for which poor Thyrsis dies;
Form'd to delight, they use no foreign arms,
Nor torturing whalebones pinch them into charms;
No conscious blushes there their cheeks inflame,
For those who feel no guilt can know no shame;
Unfaded still their former charms they shew,
Around them pleasures wait, and joys for ever new.
But cruel virgins meet severer fates;

Expell'd and exil'd from the blissful seats,
To dismal realms, and regions void of peace,
Where furies ever howl, and serpents hiss,
O'er the sad plains perpetual tempests sigh,
And pois❜nous vapours, black'ning all the sky,
With livid hue the fairest face o’ercast,
And ev'ry beauty withers at the blast:
Where'er they fly their lover's ghosts pursue,
Inflicting all those ills which once they knew;
Vexation, fury, Jealousy, despair,

Vex ev'ry eye, and ev'ry bosom tear;

Their foul deformities by all descry'd,

No maid to flatter, and no paint to hide.

Then melt, ye fair, while crowds around you sigh, Nor let disdain sit low'ring in your eye;

With pity soften ev'ry awful grace,

And beauty smile auspicious in each face;

To ease their pain exert your milder power,
So shall you guiltless reign, and all mankind adore.

THE YOUNG AUTHOR.

WHEN first the peasant, long inclin❜d to roam, Forsakes his rural sports and peaceful home, Pleas'd with the scene the smiling ocean yields; He scorns the verdant meads and flow'ry fields; Then dances jocund o'er the watery way, While the breeze whispers, and the streamers play: Unbounded prospects in his bosom roll, And future millions lift his rising soul; In blissful dreams he digs the golden mine, And raptur❜d sees the new-found ruby shine. Joys insincere! thick clouds invade the skies, Loud roar the billows, high the waves arise; Sick'ning with fear, he longs to view the shore, And vows to trust the faithless deep no more.

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