Undrefs'd, 'tis Rudeness to approach my Bed,
Confider, dearest Youth, that I'm a Maid.
With that between the Sheets his Leg he thruft,
Mixt it with mine-- and fighing cry'd
Then clafp'd me in his Arms: 1 ftrove to fqueek,
But found I had not Pow'r to ftir or speak.
My Blood confus'dly in its Channels run,
My Body was all Pulfe, my Breath ne'er gone;
My Cheeks enflam'd, diftorted were my Eyes,
While my Breaft fwell'd with Paffion and Surprize:
And ftill whene'er I ftrove to make a Noise,
Something methought I felt, which flop'd my Voice,
That did at laft fuch Tides of Joy impart,
That glided thro' each Vein and fill'd my Heart;
Recall'd my dying Senfes back again,
And with a Flood of Pleafure drown'd my Pain.
Thus for a Time I lay diffolv'd in Blifs,
As if tranflated into Paradife.
But as no drowzy Virgin e'er cou'd find,
Delight fo Charming, and a Youth fo Kind,
And not awake, when of a fudden bleft
With melting Joys too great to be expreft;
So I, unable to preserve so strong
An Impress of my dear Philander long,
Awak'd much frighted, felt about my Bed,
But found, alas! my loving Ariel fled;
And all thofe luscious Pleasures gone and past,
Which were indeed too exquifite to laft.
I mourn'd the Lofs, yet felt fome fmall Remains
Of the kind Warmth ftill fporting in my Veins.
But tho'
my Love was vanifl'd, yet I vow
I felt my felf all o'er I know not how.
Thought I, if working falfely in the Night
Can give me in a Dream fuch fweet Delight;
What must two Lovers in a mutual Flame
Poffefs, when waking they repeat the fame ?
Philander, come; for I'm refolv'd to try
The Substance, fince the Shadow yields fuch Joy.
Ambitiofa recide Ornamenta.
OOLS oft bedeck'd with gaudeous Plumes we find,
And Fops embroider'd, with an abje& Mind;
A Firft Rate Blockhead bear the Bell in Lace,
And thine in Velvet far beyond his Grace.
Of India's Silks vile Strumpets have the best,
And Bawds are now in rich Venetian dreft.
Informers, Sharpers, ftrut bedawb'd with Gold,
For which their Confcience and their Honour's fold.
Why then fhou'd you, my Friend, for Cloaths repine?
See his how threadbare, and how torn are mine!
Lo! yon Great Patriot coarseft Kersey wears,
Lies hard, nay more, on homely Diet fares.
Yet He is valiant, wife, and noble too,
Has Wit, Good-Breeding, more than I or You,
Or Button's, White's, or Elliot's guilded Crew.
Varium & mutabile femper
Femina------
Ome fudden Blaft lifts up the fwelling Main,
Which fudden finks into it felf again;
The Pilot yet forewarn'd by Signs, provides
Against those Changes of the varying Tides.
Strephon in vain confults his Celia's Eyes,
No Token there of Calm or Storm defcries
The Storm's already rais'd within her Breaît,
E'er yet he knows what 'tis difturbs her Reft.
'Tis That's perhaps the Caufe; for Ease
If long it pleases her, will ceafe to please.
To Age is her Aversion grown fo great,
Few of her Acts e'er bear one Moment's date:
So fond of dear Variety, that those
She changes oft'ner than her gaudy Cloaths.
But here howe'er the makes a longer Stay,
Woman begins, and Woman ends each Day.
H 2
On Mrs. M--- St---in and her Sifter,
HE Graces Number, we are told,
(Was Three) by Bards who fung of old,
But they ne'er faw what we behold.
What they affirm'd we find untrue,
The Graces Number is but Two.
Those Two we fee with great Surprize,
When Stms are before our Eyes;
Seldom indeed, the matchlefs Pair
To blefs our Sight are feldom there.
But how! e'er they depart from thence,
How do we feast our ev'ry Sence!
All Charms of Venus here we find,
Diana's Shape, Minerva's Mind.
All Charms? No hold, (my Fancy errs,)
Except her Eyes, far Brighter theirs.
Here Flora's choiceft Flow'rs are feen ;
Here Cupid keeps his Magazine;
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