In her high forehead's fair half round
Love Gts in open triumph crown's :
He in the dimple of her chin,
In private state, by friends is seen.
Her
eyes

are neither black, nor gray ;
Nor fierce, nor feeble is their ray:
Their dubious lustre seems to fhow
Something that speaks nor yes, nor no.
Her lips no living bard, I weet,
May say how red, how round, how sweet":
Old Homer only could indite
Their vagrant grace, and soft delight :
They ftand recorded in his book,
When Helen fmil'd, and Hebe spoke-
The gipsy turniag to her glass,
Too plainly show'd, the knew the face :
And which am I most like, she said,
Your Cloe, or your Nut-brown maid ?

Written in an OVID.

VID is the furest guide

You can name to show the way To any woman, maid, or bride,

Who refolves to go astray.

A TRUE MAID.

N°

o, no: for my virginity,

When I lose that, says Rose, I'll die : Behind the elms, last night, cry'd Dick,

Rose, were you not extremely Gick?

ANOTHER.

TA

EN months after Florimel happen'd to wed,

And was brought in a laudable manner to bed, She warbled her groans with fo charming a voice, That one half of the parish was stun'd with the noise. But when Florimel deign'd to lie privately in, Ten nonths before she and her spouse were a-kin; She chose with fuch prudence her pangs to conceal, That her nurse, nay her midwife, scarce heard her once squeal,

[lives, Learn, husbands, from hence, for the peace of your That maids make not half such a.tumult as wives.

A REASONABLE AFFLICTION,

N his death-bed poor Lubin lies ;.

His spouse is in despair !
With frequent fobs, and mutual cries,

They both express their care.

A diff'rent cause, says parfon Sly,

The same effect may give :
Poor Lubin fears, that he shall die;

His wife, that he may live.

ANOTHER REASONABLE AFFLICTION,

F

"ROM her own native France as old Alison past, She reproach'd English Nell with neglect. or

with malice, That the lattern had left in the hurry and haste, Her lady's complexion, and eye.brows at Calais.

A NO THE RÖ

H

ER eye brow box one morning lost,

(The best of folks are oft'neft crost) Sad Helen thus to Jenny faid, Her careless but afflicted maid ; Put me to bed then, wretched Jane ; Alas! when. Shall I rise again? I can behold no mortal now: For what's an eye without a brow?"

ON THE SAME SUBJECT.

N a dark corner of the house

Poor Helen fits, and fobs and cries ;
She will not see her loving spouse,
Nor her more dear picquet-allies :

Unless she finds her eye-brow9,-
She'll e'en weep.out her eyes.

ON THE SAME:

HI

'ELEN was just slipt into bed :

Her eye-brows on the toilet lay;
Away the kitten with them fled,
As fees belonging to her prey.

For this misfortune careless Janeį. Assure yourself was loudly rated :

And Madam getting up again, With her own hand the mouse-trap baited..

On little things, as fages write, Depends our human joy, or forrow :

If we don't catch a mouse to•night; Alas! no eye-brows for to-morrow.

PHYLLIS's AG B.

OW old may Phyllis be, you ask,

Whose beauty thus all hearts engages ? 'lo answer is no easy task:

For the has really two ages.

HW

Stiff in brocard, and pinch'd in stays ;;

Her patches, paint, and jewels-on ;All day let envy view her face ;

And Phyllis is but twenty one: Paint, patches, jewels laid asider

At night astronomers agree, The evening has the day bely'd ;

And Phyllis is some forty-three.

: Forma bonum fragile.

WHA

HAT a frail thing is beauty, says Baron la Crasj.
Perceiving his mistress had one eye of glass:

And scarcely had he spoke it ;
When she more confus’d, as more angry she grew,.
By a negligent rage prov'd the maxim too true :

She dropt the eye, and broke it.

A critical moment:

OW capricious were nature and art to poor

Nell? She was painting her cheeks at the time her nose fell.

How

A N E PIG R A M.

Written to the Duke de NOAILLES.

V

AIN the concern which you express,,

That uncall’d Alard will possess
Your house and coach both day and night,
And that Macbeth was haunted less

By Banquo's restless spright.

With fifteen thousand pounds a year,
Do you complain you cannot bear

An ill, you may foon retrieve?
Good Alard, faith, is modefter

By much than you believe.

Lend him but fifty Louis' d'or ;
And
you

Thall never see him more:
Take the advice : probatum est.
Why do the gods indulge our store,

But to secure our rest?