ten lines, at the third and the feventh. And it must be confeft that this exactnefs renders them much more mufical and harmonious; though they have not always been fo religious in obferving the latter rule as the former.

But I am engaged in a very vain, or a very foolish defign: thofe who are critics, it would be a prefumption in me to pretend I could instruct; and to inftruct those who are not, at the fame time I write myself, is (if I may be allowed to apply another man's fimile) like felling arms to an enemy in time of war: though there ought, perhaps, to be more indulgence fhewn to things of love and gallantry than any others, because they are generally written when people are young, and intended for ladies who are not supposed to be very old; and all young people, especially of the fair fex, are more taken with the liveliness of fancy, than the correctnefs of judgment. It may be alfo obferved, that to write of love well, a man must be really in love; and to correct his writings well, he must be out of love again. I am well enough fatisfied I may be in circumstances of writing of love, but I am almost in despair of ever being in circumstances of correcting it. This I hope may be a reafon for the fair and the young to pafs over fome of the faults; and as for the grave and wife, all the favour I fhall beg of them is, that they would not read them. Things of this nature are calculated only for the former. If love-verses work upon the ladies, a man will not trouble himfelf with what the critics fay of them: and if they do not, all

the commendations the critics can give him will makė but very little amends. All I fhall fay for these trifles ́ is, that I pretend not to vie with any man whatsoever. I doubt not but there are several now living who are able to write better on all fubjects than I am upon any one but I will take the boldnefs to fay, that there is no one man among them all who fhall be readier to acknowledge his own faults, or to do juftice to the merits of other people.

POEMS

Go, little book, and to the world impart

The faithful image of an amorous heart:

Those who love's dear deluding pains have known
May in my fatal ftories read their own.

Those who have liv'd from all its torments free,
May find the thing they never felt, by me.
Perhaps, advis'd, avoid the gilded bait,
And, warn'd by my example, fhun my fate.
While with calm joy, fafe landed on the coast,
I view the waves on which I once was toft.
Love is a medley of endearments, jars,
Sufpicions, quarrels, reconcilements, wars;
Then peace again. Oh! would it not be best
To chace the fatal poifon from our breast?
But, fince fo few can live from paffion free,
Happy the man, and only happy he,

X 3

Who

Who with fuch lucky ftars begins his love,
That his cool judgment does his choice approve.
Ill-grounded paffions quickly wear away;
What 's built upon efteem can ne'er decay.

Let the loud Lawyer break his brains, and be
A flave to wrangling coxcombs, for a fee :
Let the rough Soldier fight his prince's foes,
And for a livelihood his life expose :
I wage no war, I plead no cause, but Love's;
I fear no ftorms but what Celinda moves.
And what grave cenfor can my choice despise?
But here, fair charmer, here the difference lies:
The Merchant, after all his hazards past,
Enjoys the fruit of his long toils at last;
The Soldier high in his king's favour stands,
And, after having long obey'd, commands;
The Lawyer, to reward his tedious care,
Roars on the bench, that babbled at the bar :
While I take pains to meet a fate more hard,
And reap no fruit, no favour, no reward.

ait:

EPIGRAM.

Written in a Lady's Table-Book.

WITH what ftrange raptures would my foul be

bleft,

Were but her book an emblem of her breast!
As I from that all former marks efface,

And, uncontrol'd, put new ones in their place;
So might I chace all others from her heart,
And my own image in the stead impart.
But, ah! how fhort the blifs would prove, if he
Who feiz'd it next, might do the fame by me!

WHILE thofe bright eyes fubdue where-e'er you will,

And, as you please, can either fave or kill;

What youth fo bold the conqueft to design?

What wealth fo great to purchase hearts like thine ?

None but the Mufe that privilege can claim,
And what you give in love, return in fame.
Riches and titles with your life must end;
Nay, cannot ev`n in life your fame defend :