Vifiting me in my fickness, October 1727.
ALLAS, obferving Stella's wit Was more than for her fex was fit, And that her beauty foon or late Might breed confufion in the ftate, In high concern for human-kind, Fixt honour in her infant mind... But, (not in wranglings to engage With fuch a stupid vicious age) If honour I would here define, It answers faith in things divine. As natʼral life the body warms, And, fcholars teach, the foul informs; So honour animates the whole, And is the fpirit of the foul.
Those num'rous virtues, which the tribe Of tedious moralists describe, And by fuch various titles call, 20 True honour comprehends them all. Let melancholy rule fupreme, Choler prefide, or blood, or phlegm, It makes no diff'rence in the cafe, Nor is complexion honour's place. But, left we should for honour take The drunken quarrels of a rake ;
Or think it feated in a scar,
Or on a proud triumphal car,
Or in the payment of a debt
We lose with sharpers at picquet;
Or when a whore in her vocation
Keeps punctual to an affignation;
Or that on which his lordship-fwears,
When vulgar knaves wou'd lose their ears
Let Stella's fair example preach
A leffon, fhe alone can teach.
In points of honour to be try'd
All paffions must be laid afide:
Afk no advice, but think alone;
Suppose the queftion not your own:
How fhall I act? is not the cafe ;
But how wou'd Brutus in my place?
In fuch a cafe wou'd Cato bleed?
And how would Socrates proceed?
Drive all objections from your mind,
Elfe you relapse to human-kind ;
Ambition, avarice, and luft,
And factious rage, and breach of trust,
And flatt'ry tipt with nauseous fleer,
And guilty shame, and fervile fear,
Envy, and cruelty, and pride,
Will in your tainted heart prefide.
Heroes and heroines of old
By honour only were enroll'd
Among their brethren in the skies,
To which (though late) fhall Stella rife.
Ten thousand oaths upon record
Are not fo facred as her word:
The world fhall in its atoms end,
E're Stella can deceive a friend.
By honour feated in her breaft
She ftill determines what is beft:
What indignation in her mind
Against enflavers of mankind!
Base kings, and ministers of state,
Eternal objects of her hate.
She thinks, that nature ne'er defign'd
Courage to man alone confin'd:
Can cowardice her fex adorn,
Which most exposes ours to scorn?
She wonders where the charm appears
In Florimel's affected fears;
For Stella never learn'd the art
At proper times to scream and start;
Nor calls all the house at night,
And fwears the faw a thing in white.
Doll never flies to cut her lace,
Or throw cold water in her face,
Because she heard a fudden drum,
Or found an earwig in a plum.
Her hearers are amaz'd, from whence Proceeds that fund of wit and fenfe ;
Which, tho' her modefty would fhroud,
Breaks like the fun behind a cloud;
While gracefulness its art conceals,
And yet through ev'ry motion steals.
Say, Stella, was Prometheus blind,
And, forming you, miftook your kind?
No; 'twas for you alone he ftole
The fire, that forms a manly foul;
Then, to complete it ev'ry way,
He moulded it with female clay :
To that you owe the nobler flame,
To this the beauty of your frame.
How would ingratitude delight,
And how would cenfure glut her fpight,
If I fhould Stella's kindnefs hide
In filence, or forget with pride?
When on my fickly couch I lay,
Impatient both of night and day,
Lamenting in unmanly strains,
Call'd ev'ry pow'r to cafe my pains,
Then Stella ran to my relief
With chearful face, and inward grief;
And, though by heav'n's fevere decree
She fuffers hourly more than me,
No cruel mafter could require
From flaves employ'd for daily hire
What Stella, by her friendship warm'd,
With vigour and delight perform'd:
My finking spirits now fupplies
With cordials in her hands and eyes,
Now with a foft and filent tread
Unheard fhe moves about my bed.
I fee her tafte each naufeous draught,
And fo obligingly am caught :
I blefs the hand from whence they came,
Nor dare diftort my face for fhame.
Best pattern of true friends, beware:
You pay too dearly for your care,
If, while your tenderness secures
My life, it must endanger yours;
For fuch a fool was never found,
Who pull❜d a palace to the ground
Only to have the ruins made
Materials for an house decay'd.
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