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At church, in silks and satins new,
With hoop of monstrous size; She never slumber'd in her pew
But when she shut her eyes.
Her love was sought, I do aver,
By twenty beaus and more;
When she has walk'd before.
But now her wealth and fin’ry fled,
Her hangers-on cut short-all; The doctors found, when she was dead,
Her last disorder mortal.
Let us lament, in sorrow sore,
For Kent-street well may say, That, had she liv'd a twelvemonth more,
She had not dy'd to-day.
WEEPING, murmuring, complaining,
Lost to ev'ry gay delight; Myra, too sincere for feigning,
Fears th’approaching bridal night.
Yet why impair thy bright perfection!
Or dim thy beauty with a tear? Had Myra follow'd my direction,
She long had wanted cause of fear.
The wretch condemn’d with life to part,
Still, still on hope relies;
Bids expectation rise.
Hope, like the glimm’ring taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way,
Emits a brighter ray.
O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver,
Still importunate and vain, To former joys recurring ever,
And turning all the past to pain;
Thou, like the world, th'opprest oppressing,
Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe! And he who wants each other blessing,
In thee must ever find a foe.
WRITTEN AND SPOKEN BY
THE POET LABERIUS,
A ROMAN KNIGHT,
WHOM CÆSAR FORCED UPON THE STAGE.
PRESERVED BY MACROBIUS!.
What! no way left to shun th’inglorious stage,
1 This translation was first printed in one of our author's earliest works, “ The present State of Learning in Europe,” 12mo. 1759.