LEVITIES;

O R

PIECES OF HUMOUR.

A

FLIRT and PHIL;

A Decifion for the LADIES.

Wit, by learning well refin'd,

A beau, but of the rural kind,

To Sylvia made pretences;

They both profefs'd an equal love;
Yet hop'd, by different means to move
Her judgment, or her fenfes.

Young sprightly Flirt, of blooming mien,
Watch'd the best minutes to be feen;
Went-when his glass advis'd him :
While meagre Phil of books enquir'd;
A wight, for wit and parts admir'd;
And witty ladies priz'd him.

Silvia had wit, had spirits too;
To hear the one, the other view,

Sufpended held the scales:

Her wit, her youth too, claim'd its share,

Let none the preference declare,

But turn up-heads or tails,

STANZAS to the Memory of an agreeable LADY, buried in Marriage to a Person undeferving her.

"TWAS always held, and

ever will, By fage mankind, difcreeter,

T'anticipate a lesser ill,

Than undergo a greater.

When mortals dread diseases, pain,

And languishing conditions;
Who don't the leffer ills fuftain
Of phyfic and-phyficians?
Rather than lose his whole eftate,
He that but little wife is,

Full gladly pays four parts in eight
To taxes and excifes.

Our merchants Spain has near undone

For loft fhips not requiting:
This bears our noble king, to fhun
The lofs of blood-in fighting!

With numerous ills, in fingle life,
The bachelor's attended:
Such to avoid, he takes a wife-
And much the cafe is mended!

Poor Gratia in her twentieth year,
Fore-feeing future woe,

Chofe to attend a monkey here,

Before an ape below.

COLE

COLE MIRA.

A Culinary ECLOGUE.

"Nec tantum Veneris, quantum ftudiofa culinæ."

NIGHT's fable clouds had half the globe o'erfpread,

And filence reign'd, and folks were gone to bed:
When love, which gentle fleep can ne'er infpire,
Had feated Damon by the kitchen fire.

Penfive he lay, extended on the ground;
The little lares kept their vigils round;
The fawning cats compaffionate his cafe,
And
purr around, and gently lick his face:

To all his plaints the fleeping curs reply,
And with hoarfe fnorings imitate a figh.
Such gloomy scenes with lovers' minds agree,
And folitude to them is best society.

Could I (he cry'd) exprefs, how bright a grace Adorns thy morning hands, and well-wash'd face; Thou wouldft, Colemira, grant what I implore, And yield me love, or wash thy face no more.

Ah! who can fee, and seeing not admire,
Whene'er she sets the pot upon the fire!
Her hands out-fhine the fire, and redder things;
Her
eyes are blacker than the pots fhe brings.
But fure no chamber-damfel can compare,
When in meridian luftre fhines my fair,

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1

When

When warm'd with dinner's toil, in pearly rills,
Adown her goodly cheek the sweat distills.

Oh! how I long, how ardently desire,
To view those rofy fingers strike the lyre!

For late, when bees to change their climes began,
How did I fee them thrum the frying-pan!

With her! I should not envy George his queen, Though fhe in royal grandeur deck'd be feen: Whilft rags, just fever'd from my fair-one's gown, In ruffet pomp and greafy pride hang down.

Ah! now it does my drooping heart rejoice,
When in the hall I hear thy mellow voice!
How would that voice exceed the village bell;
Would that but fing, "I like thee paffing well!"

When from the heart she bade the pointers go, How foft! how eafy did her accents flow!. "Get out, the cry'd, when strangers come to fup, "One ne'er can raise those snoring devils up."

Then, full of wrath, fhe kick'd each lazy brute, Alas! I envy'd even that falute:

'Twas fure mifplac'd,-Shock faid, or feem'd to say, He had as lief, I had the kick, as they.

If the the myftic bellows take in hand,
Who like the fair can that machine command?
O may'st thou ne'er by Eolus be feen,
For he wou'd fure demand thee for his queen.

But

But fhould the flame this rougher aid refuse, And only gentler med'cines be of use ;

With full-blown cheeks fhe ends the doubtful ftrife, Foments the infant flame, and puffs it into life.

Such arts as these, exalt the drooping fire,

But in my breast a fiercer flame inspire :

I burn! I burn! O! give thy puffing o'er;
And fwell thy cheeks, and pout thy lips, no more!

With all her haughty looks, the time I've seen,
When this proud damfel has more humble been,
When with nice airs fhe hoift the pan-cake round,
And dropt it, hapless fair! upon the ground.

Look, with what charming grace! what winning tricks! The artful charmer rubs the candlesticks!

So bright she makes the candlesticks fhe handles,
Oft have I faid,-there were no need of candles.

But thou my fair! who never wouldst approve,
Or hear the tender ftory of my love;

Or mind, how burns my raging breast,—a button--
Perhaps art dreaming of—a breast of mutton.

Thus faid, and wept the fad defponding fwain,
Revealing to the fable walls his pain:

But nymphs are free with those they should deny
To thofe, they love, more exquifitely coy!

Now chirping crickets raife their tinkling voice,
The lambent flames in languid ftreams arife,
And smoke in azure folds evaporates and dies.

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