Oh! Love, a god indeed to womankind,
Whose arrows burn me, and whose fetters bind,
Avenge thy altars, vindicate thy fame,
And blast these traitors that profane thy name;
Who by pretending to thy facred fire,
Raife curfed trophies to impure defire.
Have you forgot with what enfnaring art
You first feduc'd this fond uncautious heart?
Then as I fled, did you not kneeling cry,
"Turn, cruel beauty; whither would you fly?
"Why all these doubts? why this distrustful fear ♪
"No impious wishes shall offend your ear :
" Nor ever shall my boldest hopes pretend
"Above the title of a tender friend;
"Bleft, if my lovely goddess will permit
My humble vows, thus fighing at her feet, "The tyrant Love that in my bosom reigns, "The god himself submits to wear your chains. "You shall direct his course, his ardour tame, "And check the fury of his wildest flame." Unpractis'd youth is easily deceiv'd ;' Sooth'd by fuch founds, I liften'd and believ'd; Now quite forgot that foft fubmiffive fear, You dare to ask what I must blush to hear.
Could I forget the honour of my race, And meet your wishes, fearless of disgrace; Could paffion o'er my tender youth prevail, And all my mother's pious maxims fail;
Yet to preferve your heart (which still must be,
Falfe as it is, for ever dear to me)
This fatal proof of love I would not give,
Which you'd contemn the moment you receive.
The wretched fhe, who yields to guilty joys,
A man may pity, but he must despise.
Your ardour ceas'd, I then should fee you fhun
The wretched victim by your arts undone.
Yet if I could that cold indifference bear,
What more would strike me with the last despair,
With this reflection would my foul be torn,
To know I merited your cruel fcorn.
"Has love no pleasures free from guilt or fear?
"Pleasures lefs fierce, more lafting, more fincere ?
"Thus let us gently kifs and fondly gaze,
"Love is a child, and like a child it plays."
O STREPHON, if you would continue juft,
If love be fomething more than brutal luft,
Forbear to ask what I must still deny,
This bitter pleasure, this deftructive joy,
So closely follow'd by the difmal train
Of cutting shame, and guilt's heart-piercing pain.
She paus'd; and fix'd her eyes upon her fan;
He took a pinch of snuff, and thus began;
Madam, if love-but he could fay no more,
For Mademoiselle came rapping at the door,
The dangerous moments no adieus afford;
-Begone, the cries, I'm fure I hear my lord,
G 3
The lover ftarts from his unfinish'd loves,
To snatch his hat, and seek his scatter'd gloves :
The fighing dame to meet her dear prepares,
While STREPHON Curfing flips down the back-ftairs.
HE baffette-table spread, the tallier come, Why ftays SMILINDA in the dreffing-room? Rife, penfive nymph! the tallier waits for you. SMILINDA.
Ah! madam, fince my SHARPER is untrue, I joyless make my once ador'd alpieu,
a Dr. Warburton afferts, that this alone, of all the town eclogues, was written by Mr. Pope. The alterations in the prefent edition are taken from a copy corrected by that Author. The humour of the prefent poem, lies in this happy circumftance, that the one is in love with the game, and the other with the sharper,
b Suppofed to be lady Mary herself.
The countess of Bristol,
I faw him ftand behind OMBRELIA's chair,
And whisper with that foft, deluding air,
And thofe feign'd fighs, which cheat the lift'ning fair.
CARDELIA.
Is this the cause of your romantic strains?
A mightier grief my heavy heart fuftains.
As you by Love, fo I by Fortune cross'd,
One, one bad deal three septlevas have lost.
SMILINDA.
Is that a grief which you compare with mine?
With ease the fmiles of Fortune I refign.
Would all my gold in one bad deal were gone,
Were lovely SHARPER mine, and mine alone.
CARDELIA.
A lover loft is but a common care;
And prudent nymphs against that change prepare,
The knave of clubs thrice loft! oh! who could guess
This fatal ftroke! this unforeseen diftrefs?
See! BETTY LOVEIT very à propos !
She all the cares of love and play does know:
Dear BETTY fhall the important point decide,
BETTY, who oft the pains of each has try'd:
Impartial, she shall fay who fuffers most,
By cards' ill usage, or by lovers loft.
Tell, tell your griefs; attentive will I stay,
Though time is precious, and I want fome tea.
CARDELIA.
Behold this equipage by MATHERS wrought,
With fifty guineas (a great pen'orth!) bought:
See on the tooth-pick MARS and CUPID ftrive,
And both the struggling figures feem alive.
Upon the bottom fhines the queen's bright face
A myrtle foliage round the thimble cafe;
JOVE, JOVE himself does on the fciffars fhine,
The metal and the workmanship divine.
This fnuff-box, once the pledge of SHARPER'S love, When rival beauties for the present ftrove At CORTICELLI's he the raffle won,
Then firft his paffion was in public shown:
HAZARDIA blufh'd, and turn'd her head afide,
Her rival's envy (all in vain) to hide :
This fnuff-box-on the hinge fee brilliants fhine
This fnuff-box will I ftake, the prize is mine.
CARDELIA.
Alas! far leffer losses than I bear,
Have made a foldier figh, a lover swear :
But oh! what makes the difappointment hard,
'Twas my own lord that drew the fatal card !—
In complaifance I took the queen he gave,
Though my own fecret wifh was for the knave:
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