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But ere indulg'dere fate my breath shall claim, A poet still is anxious after fame. What future fame would my ambition crave ? This were my wish-could ought my memory save, Say, when in death my sorrows lie repos’d, 65 That my past life no venal view disclos'd; Say, I well knew, while in a state obscure, Without the being base, the being poor ; Say, I had parts, too moderate to transcend : Yet fenfe to mean, and virtue not t'offend; My heart supplying what my head denied, Say that, by Pope esteem'd I liv'd and died ; Whose writings the best rules to write could give; Whose life the nobler science how to live.


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HEAR Damon, Delia hear, in candid lays,

Truth without anger, without flattery, praise ! A bookish mind, with pedantry unfraught, Oft a sedate, yet never gloomy thought: Prompt to rejoice, when others pleasure know, 5 And prompt to feel the pang for others woe;




To foften faults, to which a foe is prone,
And, in a friend's perfection, praise your own :
A will sincere, unknown to selfish views ;
A heart of love, of gallantry a Muse;
A delicate, yet not a jealous mind;
A paffion ever fond, yet never blind,
Glowing with amorous, yet with guiltless fires,
In ever-eager, never grofs desires :
A modeft honour, sacred to contain

15 From tattling vanity, when smiles you gain ; Constant, most pleas'd when beauty most you please : Damon! your picture 's shewn in tints like these.

Say, Delia, must I chide you or commend?
Say, must I be your flatterer or your friend?

To praise no graces in a rival fair,
Nor your own foibles in a filter spare ;
Each lover's billet, bantering, to reveal,
And never known one secret to conceal ;
Young, fickle, fair, a levity inborn,
To treat all fighing slaves with flippant fcorn;
An eye, expressive of a wandering mind :
Nor this to read, nor that to think inclin'd;
Or when a book, or thought, from whimn retards,
Intent on songs or novels, dress or cards ;
Choice to select the party of delight,
To kill time, thought, and fame, in frolic flight;
To flutter here, to furry there on wing;
To talk, to teaze, to fimper, or to sing ;
To prude it, to coquet it-him to trust,

35 Whose vain, loofe life, should caution or disgust;


Him to dislike, whose modest worth should please. -
Say, is your picture shown in tints like these ?
Your's !-you deny it-Hear the point then tried,
Let judgment, truth, the Muse, and love decide. 40
What your's !--Nay, fairelt triller, frown not so:
Is it? the Muse with doubt-Love answers NO:
You smile-Is 't not? Again the question try!-
Yes, judgment thinks, and truth will Yes, reply.

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EE female vice and female folly here,

Raillied with wit polite, or lach'd severe : Let Pope present such objects to our view; Such are, my fair, the full reverse of you. Rapt when, to Loddon's stream * from Windfor's shades,

s He fings the modest charms of fylvan maids; Dear Burford's hills in memory's eye appear, And Luddal's spring § ftill murmurs in my ear :


• Alluding to the beautiful Episode of Loddona, in Windfor Foreit.

§ A spring near Burford.


But when you cease to bless my longing eyes,
Dumb is the spring, the joyless prospect dies :
Come then, my charmer, come! here transport reigns !
New health, new youth, infpirits all my veins.
Each hour let intercourse of hearts employ,
Thou life of loveliness! thou foul of joy!
Love wakes the birds-oh, hear each melting lay! 15
Love warms the world—come charmer, come away!
But hark !-immortal Pope resumes the lyre !
Diviner airs, diviner Alights, inspire :
Hark where an angel's language tunes the line !
See where the thoughts and looks of angels thine ! 20
Here he pour'd all the music of your tongue,
And all your looks and thoughts, unconscious, sung.






With amorous pride, and undifturb’d delight; Till Death, grown envious with repugnant aim, Frown'd at their joys, and urg'd a tyrant's claim.


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He summons each disease !--the noxious crew, 5
Writhing, in dire distortions, strike his view!
From various plagues, which various natures know,
Forth rushes beauty's fear'd and fervent foe.
Fierce to the fair, the missile mischief flies,
The sanguine streams in raging ferments rise !
It drives, ignipotent, through every vein,
Hangs on the heart, and burns around the brain !
Now a chill damp the charmer's luftre dims !
Sad o'er her eyes the livid languor swims !

that with a glance could joy inspire, is Like setting stars, scarce shoot a glimmering fire.

Here stands her confort, sore, with anguish, prest, Grief in his eye, and terror in his breast. The Paphian Graces, smit with anxious care, In filent sorrow weep the waining fair. Eight suns, successive, roll their fire away, And eight now nights see their deep shades decay. While these revolve, though mute each Muse appears, Each speaking eye drops eloquence in tears. On the ninth noon, great Phæbus, listening bends ! 25 On the ninth noon, each voice in prayer afcends ! Great God of light, of song, and physic's art, Restore the languid fair, new soul impart ! Her beauty, wit, and virtue, claim thy care, And thine own bounty's almost rival'd there.

30 Each paus’d. The God assents. Would Death ad.

vance ? Phoebus, unseen, arrests the threatening lance !



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