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Where the tall jar erects it's stately pride,
With antick fhapes in China's azure dy'd;
There carelefs lies a rich brocade unroll'd,
Here shines a cabinet with burnish'd gold.
But then, alas! I must be forc'd to pay,
And bring no penn'orths, not a fan away!
'How am I curs'd, unhappy and forlorn!
My lover's triumph, and my fex's fcorn!
Falfe is the pompous grief of youthful heirs;
Falfe are the loofe coquette's inveigling airs;
Falfe is the crafty courtier's plighted word;
Falfe are the dice, when gamefter's ftamp the board;
Falfe is the fprightly widow's publick tear;

• Yet thefe, to Damon's oaths, are all fincere.

For what young flirt, base man, am I abus'd?
To please your wife am I unkindly us'd;
'Tis true, her face may boaft the peach's bloom
But does her nearer whisper breathe perfume?
I own her taper shape is form'd to pleafe;
But don't you fee her unconfin'd by stays?
She doubly to fifteen may claim pretence;
Alike we read it in her face and fenfe.
Infipid, fervile thing! whom I difdain!

Her phlegm can beft fupport the marriage chain.
Damon is practis'd in the modifh life;

• Can hate, and yet be civil to his wife:

;

He games, he drinks, he fwears, he fights, he roves;
Yet Cloe can believe he fondly loves.

Mistress and wife by turns fupply his need;

A Mifs for pleasure, and a wife for breed. • Powder'd with diamonds, free from spleen or care, • She can a fullen husband's humour bear; Her credulous friendship, and her ftupid eafe, Have often been my jeft in happier days:

• Now Cloe boafts and triumphs in my pains; To her he's faithful, 'tis to me he feigns.

• Am

Am I that ftupid thing to bear neglect,
• And force a fmile, not daring to suspect?
No, perjur'd man! a wife may be content,
But you fhall find a mistress can resent.'

Thus love-fick Lydia rav'd: her maid appears,
And in her faithful hand the band-box bears;
(The Ceftos that reform'd inconftant Jove
Not better fill'd with what allur'd to love.)

• How well this ribband's glofs becomes your face!?
She cries in rapture; then, so sweet a lace!

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• How charmingly you look! fo bright! fo fair!
• 'Tis to your eyes the head-drefs owes it's air!'
Straight Lydia fmil'd; the comb adjusts her locks;
And at the play-house, Harry keeps her box.

SATURDAY.

THE SMALL POX.

FLAVIA.

HE wretched Flavia, on her couch reclin'd,

ΤΗ

Thus breath'd the anguifh of a wounded mind; A glass revers'd in her right-hand she bore,

For now fhe fhunn'd the face fhe fought before. 'How am I chang'd! alas, how am I

grown

A frightful spectre, to myfelf unknown!
Where's my complexion? where my radiant bloom,
That promis'd happinefs for years to come?
Then with what pleasure I this face furvey'd!
To look once more, my vifits oft delay'd!

• Charm'd with the view, a fresher red would rife,
And a new life thot fparkling from my eyes!

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Ah, faithless glafs! my wonted bloom reftore
Alas! I rave, that bloom is now no more.
The greatest good the gods on men bestow,
⚫ E'en youth itself to me is useless now.

There was a time (oh, that I could forget!)
• When opera-tickets pour'd before my feet;
And at the ring, where brightest beauties shine,
The earliest cherries of the fpring were mine.
* Witness, O Lilly! and thou, Motteux, tell,
How much japan these eyes have made ye fell;
< With what contempt ye faw me oft despise
The humble offer of the raffled prize;

For at the raffle ftill each prize I bore,

• With scorn rejected, or with triumph wore.
• Now beauty's fled, and prefents are no more!

For me the patriot has the house forfook,
And left debates to catch a paffing look:
For me the foldier has foft verses writ;
For me the beau has aim'd to be a wit.
For me the wit to nonsense was betray'd;
• The gamefter has for me his dun delay'd,

And overseen the card he would have play'd.
The bold and haughty by fuccefs made vain,

• Aw'd by my eyes, have trembled to complain :
• The bashful fquire, touch'd by a wifh unknown,
<Has dar'd to speak with spirit not his own;

Fir'd by one wifh, all did alike adore;

• Now beauty's filed, and lovers are no more!
As round the room I turn my weeping eyes,

• New unaffected scenes of forrow rife.

Far from my fight that killing picture bear,
The face disfigure, and the canvas tear:
That picture which with pride I us'd to fhow,
The loft resemblance but upbraids me now.
And thou, my toilette, where I oft have fate,
• While hours unheeded pass'd in deep debate,

}

* How

How curls fhould fall, or where a patch to place;
If blue or scarlet beft became my face;

Now on fome happier nymph your aid bestow;
On fairer heads, ye ufelefs jewels, glow;
• No borrow'd luftre can my charms reftore;
Beauty is fled, and dress is now no more.
'Ye meaner beauties, I permit ye fhine;
Go, triumph in the hearts that once were mine;
But, 'midst your triumphs, with confufion know,
'Tis to my ruin all your arms ye owe.

! Would pitying Heav'n reftore my wonted mien,
Ye ftill might move unthought of and unfeen:
But, oh! how vain, how wretched is the boaft,
Of beauty faded, and of empire loft!
What now is left, but weeping, to deplore
My beauty fled, and empire now no more?
'Ye cruel chymifts, what witheld your aid!
Could no pomatums fave a trembling maid?
How falfe and trifling is that art ye boast!
No art can give me back my beauty loft.
In tears, furrounded by my friends I lay,
'Mafk'd o'er, and trembled at the fight of day;
Mirmillio came my fortune to deplore,
(A golden-headed cane well carv'd he bore)
Cordials, he cry'd, my fpirits must restore!
Beauty is fled, and fpirit is no more!

Galen, the grave; officious Squirt was there,
With fruitless grief, and unavailing care:
Machaon too, the great Machaon, known

By his red cloak, and his fuperior frown; "And why," he cry'd, "this grief, and this despair? "You fhall again be well, again be fair ;

"Believe my oath!" (with that an oath he swore :) Falfe was his oath; my beauty is no more!

"Ceafe, hapless maid! no more thy tale purfue; Forfake mankind, and bid the world adieu !

"Monarchs

"Monarchs and beauties rule with equal fway;
All ftrive to ferve, and glory to obey:
"Alike unpitied when depos'd they grow;
"Men mock the idol of their former vow.'
""

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Adieu, ye parks! in fome obfcure recefs,
Where gentle streams will weep at my distress;
Where no falfe friend will in my grief take part,
And mourn my ruin with a joyful heart;
There let me live in fome deferted place,
There hide in fhades this loft inglorious face;
Plays, operas, circles, I no more must view!

My toilette, patches, all the world, adieu!"

EPISTLE TO ALLEN LORD BATHURST,

EY MR. POPE.

P. HO fhall decide, when doctors difagree,

W

And foundest cafuifts doubt, like you and me?
You hold the word, from Jove to Momus given,
That man was made the ftanding jeft of Heav'n:
And gold but fent to keep the fools in play;
For fome to heap, and fome to throw away.
But I, who think more highly of our kind,
(And furely Heaven and I are of a mind)
Opine, that nature, as in duty.bound,
Deep hid the fhining mifchief under ground:
But when, by man's audacious labour won,
Flam'd forth this rival to it's fire, the Sun,
Then careful Heav'n fupplied two forts of men,
To fquander thefe, and thofe to hide again.
Like doctors thus, when much difpute has pafs'd,
We find our tenets juft the fame at last;

Both

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