Weep not the scenes thro' which my life muft run, Tho' Fate, fleet-footed, fcents thy languid fon. 16 The bar that, dark'ning, crofs'd my crested claim, Yields at her charms, and brightens in their flame: That blood which, honour'd, in thy Rochford reigns, In cold unwilling wand'rings trac'd my veins:
Want's wint'ry realm froze hard around my view,
And Scorn's keen blasts a cutting anguish blew.
Tofuch fad weight my gath'ring griefs were wrought,
Life feem'd not life but when convuls'd with thought!
Decreed beneath a mother's frown to pine,
Madness were ease to mis'ry form'd like mine!
Yet my Mufe waits thee thro' the realms of day, Where lambent lightnings round thy temples play. Sure my fierce woes will, like thofe fires, refine, Thus lofe their torture, and thus glorious fhine! 30 And now the Mufe heav'n's milky path furveys, With thee 'twixt pendent worlds it wond'ring ftrays, Worlds which, unnumber'd as thy virtues, roll Round funs-fix'd, radiant emblems of thy foul!Hence lights refracted run thro' diftant skies, Changeful on azure plains in quiv'ring dyes! So thy mind darted thro' its earthy frame A wide, a various, and a glitt'ring, flame.
Now a new scene enormous luftre brings,
Now feraphs fhade thee round with filver wings; 40
In angel forms thou feeft thy Rochford fhine;
In each fweet form is trac'd her beauteous line!
Such was her foul, ere this felected mould
Sprung at thy wish, the sparkling life t'infold!
So amidst cherubs fhone her fon refin'd,
Ere infant flesh the new-form'd soul enshrin'd!
So fhall a fequent race from Rochford rise,
The world's fair pride defcendents of the Skies. 48
VERSES TO A YOUNG LADY.
POLLY! from me, tho' now a love-fick youth,
Nay, tho' a poet, hear the voice of Truth.
Polly! you're not a beauty, yet you 're pretty;
So grave yet gay, fo filly yet fo witty;
A heart of softness, yet a tongue of satire;
You'ave cruelty, yet ev❜n with that good-nature:
Now you are free, and now reserv'd a while;
Now a forc'd frown betrays a willing fmile.
Reproach'd for absence, yet your fight deny'd;
My tongue you filence, yet my filénce chide.
How would you praise me fhould your fex defame!
Yet, fhould they praise, grow jealous, and exclaim.
If I defpair, with fome kind look you blefs;,
But if I hope, at once all hope fupprefs.
You scorn, yet should my passion change or fail, 15
Too late you'd whimper out a fofter tale.
You love, yet from your lover's wifh retire;
Doubt yet difcern, deny and yet defire.
Such, Polly! are your fex-part truth part fiction;
Some thought, much whim and all a contradiction. 20
EPISTLETO DAMON AND DELIA.
HEAR, Damon! Delia! hear, in candid lays,
Truth without anger, without flatt'ry praife.
A bookish mind, with pedantry unfraught,
Oft' a fedate yet never gloomy thought;
Prompt to rejoice when others pleasure know,
And prompt to feel the pang for others' woe;
To foften faults to which a foe is prone,
And in a friend's perfection praise your own;
A will fincere, unknown to felfish views,
A heart of love, of gallantry a Mufe;
A delicate yet not a jealous mind;
A paffion ever fond yet never blind,
Glowing with am'rous yet with guiltless fires,
In ever-eager never grofs defires;
A modeft honour, facred to contain
From tattling vanity when fmiles you gain;
Conftant, moft pleas'd when beauty most you please; Damon! your picture's shown in tints like thefe.
Say, Delia! muft I chide you or commend? Say, muft I be your flatt'rer or your
To praise no graces in a rival fair, Nor your own foibles in a fifter fpare; Each lover's billet bant'ring to reveal, And never known one fecret to conceal; Young, fickle, fair, a levity inborn,
To treat all fighing flaves with flippant fcorn;
An eye expreffive of a wand'ring mind,"
Nor this to read nor that to think inclin'd;
Or when a book or thought from whim retards,
Intent on fongs or novels, drefs or cards;
Choice to select the party of delight,
To kill time, thought, and fame, in frolic flight;"
To flutter here, to flurry there, on wing;
To talk, to teaze, to fimper, or to fing;
To prude it, to coquette it-him to trust
Whofe vain loofe life fhould caution or disguft;
Him to diflike whose modeft worth fhould please;
Say, is your picture shown in tints like these?
Your's! you deny it-Hear the point then try'd, '
Let Judgment, Truth, the Mufe, and Love, decide. 40
What! your's!Nay, faireft Trifler! frown not fo:
Is it? the Mufe with doubt-Love anfwers No:
You fmile-Is 't not? Again the question try-
Yes Judgment thinks, and Truth will Yes reply. 44
TO MISS M—— H
SENT WITH MR. POPE'S WORKS.
SEE female vice and female folly here
Rally'd with wit polite or lafh'd fevere:
Let Pope prefent fuch objects to our view;
Such are, my Fair! the full reverse of you.
Rapt when,to Loddon stream* from Windfor's fhades
He fings the modeft charms of fylvan maids,
Alluding to the epifode of Loddona in Windfor Foreft.
Dear Burford's hills in Mem'ry's eye appear,
And Luddal's fpring* ftill murmurs in my ear:
But when you cease to blefs my longing eyes,
Dumb is the fpring, the joyless profpect dies:
Come then, myCharmer! come; here transport reigns;
New health, new youth, inspirits all my veins.
Each hour let intercourfe of hearts employ,
Thou life of loveliness! thou foul of joy!
Love wakes the birds-oh! hear each melting lay; 15
Love warms the world--come, Charmer! come away.
But hark!immortal Pope resumes the lyre!
Diviner airs diviner flights infpire:
Hark where an angel's language tunes the line!
See where the thoughts and looks of angels fhine! 20
Here he pour'd all the music of your tongue,
And all your looks and thoughts unconscious fung. 22
SENT TO MRS. BRIDGET JONES,
WITH THE WANDERER, À POEM.
Alluding to an Episode where a young man turns bermit for the lofs of his wife Olympia.
WHEN with delight fond Love on Beauty dwelt,
While this the youth and that the fair exprest,
Faint was his joy compar'd to what I felt,
When in my angel Biddy's prefence bleft.
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