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The TRIUMPH of INDIFFERENCE.

Being the fame OD E, imitated by an unknown Hand.

I.

HANKS, dear coquet! indulgent cheat!

ΤΗ

Kind heaven, and your more kind deceit,

At length have set me free:

No more I figh, and doat, and pine,

All eafe without, and calm within,

In peace and liberty.

II.

'Cupid no more has power to scorch,
Time fure has robb'd him of his torch,
Ne'er was a cooler creature :

That name no more has fuch eclat,
No more my heart goes pit-a-pat

At fight of each dear feature.
III.

I fleep at night, and fometimes dream,
Nor you the fond vexatious theme;
I wake, nor think about you
I meet, I leave you, meet again,
But feel no mighty joy or pain,
Or with you, or without you.

IV. Now

IV.

Now with indifference I chat

Of eyes, lips, bubbies, and all that,
And laugh at former follies:
Joke with my rival when we meet,
What eye fo keen! what lips fo fweet!
What skin so soft as Molly's!
V.

Leave then thofe little torturing arts,
You practise on complying hearts;
They're all in vain, believe me :
Whether those eyes look kind or weep,
The pouting, or the smiling lip,

Will neither please, nor grieve me.
VI.

From those defpotick looks, no more
(Once tyrants of each fickle hour)

I date my grief and joy :

May, tho' you frown, looks fweetly clad;
And dull December's mighty fad,

Tho' you stand smiling by.

VII.

Yet ftill (for I am quite fincere)

You're mighty pretty--true, my dear,

But, like your pretty sex,

You've here and there, and now and then

A failing; for like other men,

I now can spy defects.

U 2

VIII. Yet

VIII.

Yet once with coward fondness curs'd,

My poor weak heart I fear'd would burft
At thought of feparation :
But now despise my feeble chain,
And bless the falutary pain

That cur'd me of my paffion.

IX.

Impatient of his iron cage,

The bird thus spends his little rage,
And 'scapes with shatter'd wings :
But foon with new-fledg'd pinions foars,
And haft'ning to his native bow'rs,
A joyful welcome fings..

X.

Fond female vanity will fay,

These long harangues they fure betray
A heart that's hankering ftill:
This paffion fo proclaim'd in song,
This tale fo pleafing to the tongue,

Does it not touch the will?

XI.

Lovers like foldiers, Molly, dwell
With pleasure on the horrid tale,

When all the danger's o'er :
Like other flaves from fetters free,
We smile with anxious joy, to fee

The chains which once we wore.

XII. Ia

XII.

In kind indulgence to a heart,

Engag'd in fo fevere a part,

This sweet revenge I write :
Rail, weep, be woman all, for I
Lull'd in indifference, defy

Your fondness or your fpite.
XIII.

A frail falfe maid I loft, but you
A man, fond, generous, and true ;
Which fortune is the worft ?
Try all love's mighty empire round,
A faithful lover's feldom found;
A jilt's a common curse.

The SHEPHERD'S FAREWEL to his LovE,

PHOBE,

Being the fame ODE,

Tranflated by Mr. RODERICK,

HOBE, thank thy false heart, it has fix'd my repofe,
The gods have had pity at length on my woes ;

I feel it, I feel my foul loose from its chain,

And at laft freedom comes, often dream'd of in vain.

The flame is burn'd out, and each paffion at reft,
Under which love difguis'd ftill might lurk in my breaft;
No more, when thou'rt nam'd, the warm blushes arise,
No more flutters my heart, when I meet with your eyes.

In my sleep now no longer thy image I see,

Nor the first of my thoughts, when I wake, is of thee; When from thee, no more of thy abfence I plain, When with thee, I feel neither pleasure nor pain.

My heart without fondnefs can mufe on thy charms,
My past pains I recount, yet no paffion alarms;
Difcompos'd I'm no longer, when tow'rd me you move,
And at ease with my rival, I talk of my love.

Whether haughty thy frown, whether gentle thy ftrain,
In vain thy proud looks, thy fond speeches in vain ;
Thy falfe tongue to beguile me no more has the art,
No more thy keen eye knows the way to my heart.

Whether penfive or chearful, no longer to you
For this are my thanks, or for that my blame due :
The gay profpect now pleases, though you are away,
And your prefence no more can make dreariness gay.

Believe me, I ftill can allow that thou'rt fair,
But not that no fair-one can with thee compare;

And