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Lolt, and bewilder'd in despair,
40 How piercing are the hapless lover's cries ! What tender strokes in melting accents rise !
Oh, what a master-piece of pity's there?
As there the graceful patriot shines,
Let the low crowd, who love unwholesome fare, 50 When in thy words the breath of angels flows,
Like gross-fed fpirits, fick in purer air,
Thy dazzling genius shines too bright!
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
BESSY, CounteSS OF ROCHFORD, DAUGHTER OF THE LATE EARL RIV
WHEN WITH CHILD.
AS when the fun walks forth in flaming gold,
Mean plants may sinile, and humble Aowers un.
foid, The low-laid lark the distant æther wings, And, as the soars, her daring anthem sings ;
So, when thy charms 'celestial views create,
5 My ímiling long surmounts my gloomy fate. Thy angel-embryo prompts my towering lays, Claims my fond wish, and fires my future praise : May it, if male, its grandfire's image wear; Or in its mother's charms confoss the fair; At the kind birth may each mild planet wait; Soft be the pain, but prove the blessing great.
Hail, Rivers ! hallow'd shade! descend from rest! Descend and smile, to see thy Rochford bleit : Weep not the scenes through which my life must run, 15 Though fate, fleet-footed, scents thy languid son. The bar that, darkening, cross’d my crested claim , Yields at her charms, and brightens in their flame : That blood which, honour'd, in thy Rochford reigns, In cold, unwilling wanderings tracd my veins. Want's wintery realm froze hard around my view; And scorn's keen blasts a cutting anguish blew. To such sad weight my gathering griefs were wrought;, Life seem'd not life, but when convuls'd with thought ! Decreed beneath a mother's frown to pine,
25 Madness were ease, to misery form'd like mine! Yet
my Muse waits thee through the realms of day, Where lambent lightnings round thy temples play. Sure my fierce woes will, like those fires, refine, Thus lose their torture, and thus glorious shine ! And now the Mufe heaven s milky path surveys, With thee, 'twixt pendent worlds, it wondering strays, Worlds which, unnumber'd as thy virtues, roll Round suns fix’d; radiant emblems of thy foul !
Hence lights refracted run through distant skies, 35
Now a new scene enormous lustre brings,
45 Are infant-flesh the new-form'd soul enshrin'd! So shall a sequent race from Rochford rise, The world's fair pride-Descendants of the skies.
TO THE EXCELLENT
M I R A N D A,
CONSORT OF AARON HILL, ESQ.
ON READING HER POEMS.
EACH foftening charm of Clio's smiling song,
Montague's foul, which shines divinely f'rong, These blend, with graceful ease, to form thy rhyme, Tender, yet chaste ; sweet-founding, yet sublime ; Wisdom and wit have made thy works their care, 5 Each palfion glows, refind by precept, there : To fair Miranda's form each grace is kind ; The Muses and the Virtues tune thy mind.
POLLY, from me, though now a love-fick youth,
Nay, though a poet, hear the voice of truth! Polly, you're not a teauty, yet you 're pretty; So
grave, yet gay; fo filly, yet so witty ; A heart of loftness, yet a tongue of satire ; 5 You ’ve cruelty, yet, ev’n with that, good-nature : Now you are free, and now reserv'd awhile; Now a forc'd frown betrays a willing smile. Reproach'd for absence, yet your fight denyd; My tongue you silence, yet my silence chide. How would you praise me, should your sex defame! Yet, should they praise, grow jealous, and exclaim. If I despair, with some kind look you bless; But if I hope, at once all hope suppress. You scorn; yet should my passion change, or fail, 15 Too late you 'd whimper out a fofter tale. You love; yet from your lover's wish retire ; Doubt, yet discern; deny, and yet
desire. Such, Polly, are your fex-part truth, part fiation, Some thought, much whim, and all a contradiction. 20
Decent mein, an elegance of dress,