ADVICE to a Lady in AUTUMN.
By the Earl of CHESTERFIELD 2.
ASSES milk, half a pint, take at feven, or before,
Then fleep for an hour or two, and no more.
At nine ftretch your arms, and oh! think when alone,
There's no pleasure in bed.-MARY, bring me my gown:
Slip on that ere you rife; let your caution be fuch :
Keep all cold from your breaft, there's already too much;
Your pinners fet right, your twitcher ty'd on,
Your prayers at an end, and your breakfaft quite done;
Retire to fome author, improving and gay,
And with fenfe like your own, fet your mind for the day.
At twelve you may walk, for at this time o' the year,
The fun, like your wit, is as mild as 'tis clear:
a Philip Dormer Stanhope, Earl of Chesterfield, was born September 22d, 1694; fucceeded to the title 27th of January 1725-6; and was elected Knight of the Garter 18th of May 1730. Soon after he was made Steward of his Majefty's household, and Ambaffador Extraordinary and Plenipotentiary to the States General. In 1745 he was appointed Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and in 1746 Secretary of State; he refigned this poft, after holding it about a year, and retired from all public bufinefs. He died March 23, 1773.
But mark in the meadows the ruin of Time;
Take the hint, and let life be improv'd in its prime.
Return not in hafte, nor of dreffing take heed;
For beauty, like yours, no affiftance can need.
With an appetite, thus, down to dinner you fit,
Where the chief of the feast is the flow of your wit:
Let this be indulg'd, and let laughter go round;
As it pleases your mind, to your health 'twill redound.
After dinner two glaffes at leaft, I approve;
Name the first to the king, and the laft to your love:
Thus cheerful with wisdom, with innocence gay,
And calm with your joys gently glide through the day.
The dews of the evening most carefully fhun;
Those tears of the sky for the lofs of the fun.
Then in chat, or at play, with a dance, or a song,
Let the night, like the day, pass with pleasure along.
All cares, but of love, banish far from your mind;
And thofe you may end, when you please to be kind.
But mark in the meadows the ruin of Time;
Take the hint, and let life be improv'd in its prime.
Return not in hafte, nor of dreffing take heed;
For beauty, like yours, no affistance can need.
With an appetite, thus, down to dinner you fit,
Where the chief of the feast is the flow of your wit:
Let this be indulg'd, and let laughter go round;
As it pleases your mind, to your health 'twill redound.
After dinner two glaffes at leaft, I approve;
Name the first to the king, and the last to your love:
Thus cheerful with wisdom, with innocence gay,
And calm with your joys gently glide through the day.
The dews of the evening most carefully fhun;
Those tears of the sky for the lofs of the fun.
Then in chat, or at play, with a dance, or a song,
Let the night, like the day, pafs with pleasure along.
All cares, but of love, banish far from your mind;
And thofe you may end, when you please to be kind.
THE gufhing ftreams impetuous flow,
In hafte to DELIA's lips to go;
With equal hafte and equal heat,
Who would not rush thofe lips to meet?
Blefs'd envy'd ftreams, ftill greater bliss
Attends your warm and liquid kiss.
For from her lips your welcome tide
Shall down her heaving bofom glide;
There fill each fwelling globe of love,
And touch that heart I ne'er could move.
From hence in foft meanders ftray,
And find at last the blissful way
Which thought may paint, though verfe mayn't fay.
Too happy rival, dwell not there,
To rack my heart with jealous care,
But quit the bleft abode, though loth,
And quickly paffing, eafe us both.
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