O! may the power, who lovers rules,

Grant rather fcorn, than hope with fools!

Miftaken nymph! the crouds that gaze
Adore thee into shame;
Unguarded beauty is disgrace,

And coxcombs, when they praife, defame:
O fly fuch brutes in human fhapes,
Nor, like th' Ægyptians, worship apes.

THE WIDOW AND VIRGIN SISTERS,

Being a Letter to the WIDOW, in LONDON.

WHILE Delia fhines at Hurlothrumbo,

And darts her fprightly eyes at some beau ;*

Then, close behind her fan retiring,

Sees through the sticks whole crouds admiring:
You fip your melancholy co-ffy,

And at the name of man, cry, O! phy!
Or, when the noify rapper thunders,
Say coldly---Sure the fellow blunders !
Unfeen though peer on peer approaches :
James, I'm abroad !---but learn the coaches.
As fome young pleader, when his purfe is
Unfill'd, through want of controverfies,
Attends, until the chinks are fill'd all,
The affizes, Weftminster, and Guildhall;
While graver lawyers keep their house, and
Collect the guineas by the thousand.

Or as fome tradefmen, through fhow-glaffes,
Expofe their wares to each that passes,
Toys of no use! high-priz'd commodities
Bought to no end! Eftates in oddities!
Others, with like advantage drive at
Their gain, from store-houfes in private:
Thus Delia fhines in places general,
Is never mifling where the men are all ;
Goes ev'n to church with godly airs,
To meet good company at prayers:
Where the devoutly plays her fan,
Looks up to heaven, but thinks on man:
You fit at home: enjoy your * cousin,
While hearts are offer'd by the dozen :
O! born above your fex to rife,

With youth, wealth, beauty, titles---wife!
O! Lady bright, did ne'er you mark yet,
In country fair, or country market,
À beau, whofe eloquence might charm ye,
Enlifting foldiers for the army:

He flatters every well-built youth,

And tells him every thing but---truth.
He cries, Good friend, I'm glad I hap'd in
Your company, you'll make a captain!
He lifts---but finds thefe gaudy shows
Soon chang'd, to furly looks, and blows:
'Tis now, March, rafcal! what d'ye grumble?
Thwack goes the cane! I'll make you
humble.

Such weddings are: and I resemble 'em,
Almoft in all points to this emblem.

While courtship lafts, 'tis, dear! 'tis, madam!
The fweetest creature fure fince Adam!

Had I the years of a Methusalem,

How in my charmer's praise I'd use all 'em ?
O! take me to thy arms, my beauty!
I doat, adore the very fhoe-tye!

They wed---but, fancy grown lefs warming,
Next morn, he thinks the bride lefs charming:
He fays, nay fwears, My wife grows old in
One fingle month; then falls to fcolding,
What, madam, gadding every day!

Up to your room! there stitch, or pray!

Such proves the marriage-state! but for all Thefe truths, you'll wed, and fcorn the moral.

ON THE DEATH OF MY DEAR FRIEND,

MR. ELIJAH FENTON, 1730.

"Calentem

"Debitâ fparges lacryma favillam

AS

"Vatis amici."

HOR.

S when the King of Peace, and Lord of Love, Sends down fome brighter angel from above, Pleas'd with the beauties of the heavenly Guest, Awhile we view him in full glory dreft,

But he, impatient from his heaven to stay,
Soon difappears, and wings his airy way ;

So

So did'st thou vanish, eager to appear,
And thine triumphant in thy native sphere.

Yet had 'ft thou all that virtue can bestow,
All, the Good practife, and the learned know;
Such holy rapture, as not warms, but fires,
While the foul feems retiring, or retires :
Such tranfports, as thofe faints in vifion fhare,
Who know not whether they are rapt through air,
Or bring down heaven to meet them in a prayer.
O early loft! yet stedfaft to furvey

Envy, difeafe, and death, without dismay;

*

Serene, the fting of pain thy thoughts beguile,
And make afflictions, objects of a smile.

So the fam'd Patriarch, on his couch of stone,
Enjoy'd bright vifions from th' eternal throne.

Thus wean'd from earth, where pleasure scarce can please,

Thy woes but haften'd thee to heaven and peace:
As angry winds, when loud the tempeft roars,
More fwiftly fpeed the veffel to the fhores.

O may thefe lays a lafting luftre fhed

O'er thy dark urn, like lamps that grace the dead! Strong were thy thoughts, yet reafon bore the fway, Humble, yet learn'd; though innocent, yet gay:

So

pure of heart, that thou might'ft fafely show Thy inmoft bofom to thy baseft foe:

Careless of wealth, thy blifs a calm retreat,
Far from the infults of the fcornful great;

*The gout.

Thence

Thence locking with difdain on proudeft things,
Thou deemed'ft mean the pageantry of kings;
Who build their pride on trappings of a throne,
A painted ribband, or a glittering ftone,
Ufelefsly bright! 'twas thine the foul to raise
To nobler objects, fuch as angels praife!
To live, to mortals' empty fame, a foe;
And pity human joy, and human woe!
To view ev'n fplendid vice with generous hate,
In life unblemish'd, and in death fedate!
Then confcience, fhining with a lenient ray,
Dawn'd o'er thy foul, and promis'd endless day.
So from the fetting orb of Phoebus fly
Beams of calm light, and glitter to the sky.

Where now, O! where fhall I true friendship find
Among the treacherous race of bafe mankind?
Whom, whom confult in all th' uncertain ways
Of various life, fincere to blame, or praise?
O friend! O! falling in thy ftrength of years,
Warm from the melting foul receive these tears!
O! woods! O! wilds! O! every bowery shade!
So often vocal by his mufic made,

Now other founds---far other founds return,
And o'er his herfe with all your echoes mourn!---
Yet dare we grieve that foon the paths he trod
To heaven, and left vain man for Saints and God?
Thus in the theatre the scenes unfold

A thousand wonders glorious to behold;
And here, or there, as the machine extends,
A hero rifes, or a God defcends:

But