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The glass, grown hateful to her sight, Reflected now a perfect fright. Each former art she vainly tries To bring back lustre to her eyes; In vain she tries her paste and creams To smooth her skin, or hide its seams: Her country beaux and city cousins, Lovers no more, flew off by dozens; The 'squire himself was seen to yield, And even the captain quit the field.

Poor madam, now condemned to hack
The rest of life with anxious Jack,
Perceiving others fairly flown,
Attempted pleasing him alone.
Jack soon was dazzled to behold
Her present face surpass the old.
With modesty her cheeks are dy'd;
Humility displaces pride;

For tawdry finery is seen
A person ever neatly clean:
No more presuming on her sway,
She learns good-nature every day :
Serenely gay, and strict in duty,
Jack finds his wife a perfect beauty.

THE GIFT.

TO IRIS, IN BOW STREET, COVENT GARDEN.

SAY, cruel Iris, pretty rake,
Dear mercenary beauty,

What annual offering shall I make
Expressive of my duty?

My heart, a victim to thine eyes,
Should I at once deliver,

Say, would the angry fair one prize
The gift, who slights the giver?

A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy,
My rivals give and let 'em.
If gems or gold impart a joy,

I'll give them—when I get 'em.

I'll give but not the full blown rose,
Or rosebud, more in fashion;
Such short liv'd offerings but disclose
A transitory passion.

I'll give thee something yet unpaid,
Not less sincere than civil;

I'll give thee-ah! too charming maid,
I'll give thee to the devil.

THE LOGICIANS REFUTED.

IN IMITATION OF DEAN SWIFT.

LOGICIANS have but ill defined
As rational the human mind;
Reason, they say, belongs to man,
But let them prove it if they can.
Wise Aristotle and Smiglesius,

By ratiocinations specious,

Have strove to prove with great precision,

With definition and division,

Homo est ratione preditum;

But for my soul I cannot credit 'em.
And must in spite of them maintain,
That man and all his ways are vain;
And that this boasted lord of nature
Is both a weak and erring creature.
That instinct is a surer guide

Than reason, boasting mortals' pride;
And that brute beasts are far before 'em,
Deus est anima brutorum.

Who ever knew an honest brute
At law his neighbour prosecute,
Bring action for assault and battery,

Or friend beguile with lies and flattery?
O'er plains they ramble unconfined,

No politics disturb their mind;

They eat their meals, and take their sport,
Nor know who's in or out at court,
They never to the levee go

To treat as dearest friend a foe:
They never importune his grace,
Nor ever cringe to men in place;
Nor undertake a dirty job,

Nor draw the quill to write for Bob,*
Fraught with invective they ne'er go,
To folks at Paternoster-row:
No judges, fiddlers, dancing-masters,
No pickpockets, or poetasters,
Are known to honest quadrupeds,
No single brute his fellows leads.
Brutes never meet in bloody fray,
Nor cut each others' throats for pay.
Of beasts, it is confess'd the ape
Comes nearest us in human shape,
Like man he imitates each fashion,
And malice is his ruling passion :
But both in malice and grimaces
A courtier any ape surpasses.

* Sir Robert Walpole.

Behold him humbly cringing wait
Upon the minister of state:

View him soon after to inferiors,
Aping the conduct of superiors:
He promises with equal air,
And to perform takes equal care.
He in his turn finds imitators;

At court, the porters, lacqueys, waiters,
Their masters' manners still contract,
And footman lords and dukes can act.
Thus at the court both great and small
Behave alike, for all ape all.

SONNET.

WEEPING, murmuring, complaining,
Lost to every gay delight;

Myra, too sincere for feigning,

Fears th' approaching bridal night.

Yet why impair thy bright perfection?
Or dim thy beauty with a tear?
Had Myra follow'd my direction,
She long had wanted cause of fear.

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