As round the room I turn my weeping eyes,

New unaffected scenes of forrow rise.

'Far from my fight that killing picture bear,
'The face disfigure, and the canvas tear :
That picture, which with pride I us'd to fhow,

'The loft resemblance but upbraids me now.

6

And thou, my toilette, where I oft have fate,

While hours unheeded pass'd in deep debate,

'How curls should fall, or where a patch to place; 'If blue or fcarlet beft became my face;

"Now on fome happier nymph your aid bestow; 'On fairer heads, ye useless jewels, glow;

'No borrow'd luftre can my charms restore;

Beauty is fled, and dress is now no more.

'Ye meaner beauties, I permit ye fhine;

'Go, triumph in the hearts that once were mine; 'But, 'midst your triumphs, with confufion know, 'Tis to my ruin all your arms ye owe.

'Would pitying heav'n restore my wonted mien,

Ye ftill might move unthought of and unseen : 'But oh, how vain, how wretched is the boast * Of beauty faded, and of empire loft! "What now is left but weeping, to deplore "My beauty fled, and empire now no more?

'Ye

'Ye cruel chymifts, what with-held your aid! "Could no pomatums fave a trembling maid? "How false and trifling is that art ye boaft! 'No art can give me back my beauty loft.

In tears, surrounded by my friends I lay, 'Mask'd o'er, and trembled at the fight of day; 'MIRMILLIO came my fortune to deplore, (A golden-headed cane well carv'd he bore)

Cordials, he cry'd, my fpirits must restore! < Beauty is fled, and spirit is no more!

GALEN, the grave; officious SQUIRT was there, With fruitless grief and unavailing care: MACHAON too, the great MACHAON, known 'By his red cloak and his fuperior frown; "And why, he cry'd, this grief and this despair? *You fhall again be well, again be fair; "Believe my oath; (with that an oath he fwore ;) C False was his oath; my beauty is no more!

'Ceafe, hapless maid, no more thy tale pursue, "Forfake mankind, and bid the world adieu! • Monarchs and beauties rule with equal fway; • All strive to serve, and glory to obey : 'Alike unpitied when depos'd they grow→→→→→→

• Men mock the idol of their former vow.

• Adieu !

Adieu! ye parks !-in fome obfcure recefs, • Where gentle streams will weep at my distress, • Where no false friend will in my grief take part, ' And mourn my ruin with a joyful heart; • There let me live in fome deferted place, There hide in fhades this loft inglorious face. · Plays, operas, circles, I no more muft view! My toilette, patches, all the world adieu !'

The LOVER: A BALLAD.

A

To Mr. C

By the Same.

I.

T length, by fo much importunity prefs'd,

Take, C, at once the infide of my breast.

This stupid indiff'rence so often you blame,

Is not owing to nature, to fear, or to shame.
I am not as cold as a virgin in lead,

Nor is Sunday's fermon so strong in my head:

I know but too well how time flies along,

That we live but few years, and yet fewer are young.

II. But

II.

But I hate to be cheated, and never will buy

Long years of repentance for moments of joy,
Oh! was there a man (but where fhall I find
Good fenfe and good-nature fo equally join'd ?)
Would value his pleasure, contribute to mine;
Not meanly would boaft, nor lewdly defign,
Not over fevere, yet not stupidly vain,

For I would have the power, though not give the pain.
III.

No pedant, yet learned; not rake-helly gay,
Or laughing because he has nothing to fay;
To all my whole sex obliging and free,
Yet never be fond of any but me;

In public preserve the decorum that's just,
And fhew in his eyes he is true to his truft;
Then rarely approach, and respectfully bow,
But not fulfomely pert, nor foppifhly low.

IV.

But when the long hours of public are past,

And we meet with champagne and a chicken at last,
May every fond pleasure that moment endear;

Be banish'd afar both difcretion and fear!

For

Forgetting or fcorning the airs of the crowd,
He may cease to be formal, and I to be proud,
'Till loft in the joy, we confefs that we live,
And he may be rude, and yet I may forgive.
V.

And that my delight may be folidly fix'd,

Let the friend and the lover be handsomely mix'd,
In whofe tender bofom my foul may confide,

Whose kindness can footh me, whofe counsel can guide.
From fuch a dear lover, as here I describe,

No danger should fright me, no millions should bribe;
But 'till this astonishing creature I know,

As I long have liv'd chaste, I will keep myself so.
VI.

I never will share with the wanton coquet,

Or be caught by a vain affectation of wit.
The toasters and fongfters may try all their art,
But never shall enter the pass of my heart.

I loath the lewd rake, the drefs'd fopling defpife:
Before fuch purfuers the nice virgin flies:

And as OVID has fweetly in parables told,

We harden like trees, and like rivers grow cold..

The