Here, as each season yields a different store,
Each season's stores in order ranged been,
Apples with cabbage-net y'-cover'd o'er,
Galling full sore the' unmoney'd wight, are seen,
And gooseberry, clad in livery red or green;
And here of lovely dye the catherine pear,
Fine pear! as lovely for thy juice I ween!
O may no wight e'er pennyless come there, [care!
Lest smit with ardent love he pine with hopeless
See! cherries here, ere cherries yet abound,
With thread so white in tempting posies tied,
Scattering like blooming maid their glances round,
With pamper'd look draw little eyes aside,
And must be bought, though penury betide;
The plum all azure, and the nut all brown,
And here, each season, do those cakes abide,
Whose honour'd names the' inventive city own,
Rendering through Britain's isle Salopia's praises
known.*
Admir'd Salopia! that with venial pride
Eyes her bright form in Severn's ambient wave,
Fam'd for her loyal cares in perils tried,
Her daughters lovely, and her striplings brave:
Ah! midst the rest, may flowers adorn his grave
Whose art did first these dulcet cates display!
A motive fair to Learning's imps he gave,
Who cheerless o'er her darkling region stray,
Till Reason's morn arise, and light them on their way.
DODSLEY'S TRAGEDY OF CLEONE.
WELL, Ladies-so much for the tragic style-
And now the custom is to make you smile.
To make us smile!-methinks I hear you say-
Why, who can help it, at so strange a play?
The captain gone three years!—and then to blame
The faultless conduct of his virtuous dame !
My stars!-what gentle belle would think it treason,
When thus provok❜d, to give the brute some reason?
Out of my house!-this night, forsooth, depart!
A modern wife had said- With all my heart-
But think not, haughty Sir! I'll go alone;
Order your coach-conduct me safe to Town-
Give me my jewels, wardrobe, and my maid-
And, pray, take care my pin-money be paid.'
Such is the language of each modish fair;
Yet memoirs, not of modern growth, declare
The time has been, when modesty and truth
Were deem'd additions to the charms of youth;
When women hid their necks,and veil'd their faces,
Nor romp'd, nor rak'd, nor star'd, at public places,
Nor took the airs of Amazons for graces:
Then plain domestic virtues were the mode,
And wives ne'er dream'd of happiness abroad;
They lov'd their children, learn'd no flaunting airs,
But with the joys of wedlock mix'd the cares.
Those times are past-yet sure they merit praise,
For marriage triumph'd in those golden days;
By chaste decorum they affection gain'd;
By faith and fondness, what they won, maintain❜d.
'Tis yours, ye fair! to bring those days again,
And form anew the hearts of thoughtless men;
Make beauty's lustre amiable as bright,
And give the soul as well as sense delight;
Reclaim from folly a fantastic age,
That scorns the press, the pulpit, and the stage.
Let truth and tenderness your breasts adorn,
The marriage-chain with transport shall be worn;
Each blooming virgin, rais'd into a bride,
Shall double all their joys, their cares divide;
Alleviate grief, compose the jars of strife,
And pour the balm that sweetens human life.
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