None, then, will prefs upon your midnight hours,
Nor wake, to ftrew your street with morning flowers.
Then nightly knockings at your door will cease,
Whofe noifelefs hammer, then, may ruft in peace.
Alas, how foon a clear complexion fades !
How foon a wrinkled skin plump flesh invades ;
And what avails it, though the fair-one fwears
She from her infancy had fome grey hairs?
She grows all hoary in a few more years,
And then the venerable truth appears.

The fnake his fkin, the deer his horns may caft,
And both renew their youth and vigours paft:
But no receipt can human-kind relieve,
Doom'd to decrepit age without reprieve.
Then crop the flower which yet invites your eye,
And which, ungather'd, on its ftalk muft die.
Befides, the tender fex is form'd to bear,
And frequent births too foon will youth impair :
Continual harveft wears the fruitful field,
And earth itself decays too often till'd.

Thou didst not, Cynthia, fcorn the Latmian fwain;
Nor thou, Aurora, Cephalus difdain;
The Paphian queen, who, for Adonis' fate
So deeply mourn'd, and who laments him yet,
Has not been found inexorable fince;
Witnefs Harmonia, and the Dardan prince.
Then take example, mortals, from above,
And like immortals live, and like them love.
Refuse not those delights, which men require,
Nor let your lovers languish with defire.

Falfe though they prove, what lofs can you fuftain ?
Thence let a thousand take, 'twill all remain.
Though conftant ufe ev'n flint and fteel impairs,
What you employ no diminution fears.
Who would, to light a torch, their torch deny ?
Or who can dread drinking an ocean dry?
Still women lofe, you cry, if men obtain ;
What do they lofe, that's worthy to retain ?
Think not this faid to prostitute the fex,
But undeceive whom needlefs fears perplex.
Thus far a gentle breeze fupplies our fail,
Now launch'd to fea, we afk a brifker gale.
And, firft, we treat of drefs. The well-drefs'd vine.
Produces plumpeft grapes, and richest wine;
And plenteous crops of golden grain are found,
Alone, to grace well-cultivated ground.
Beauty's the gift of gods, the fex's pride !
Yet to how many is that gift deny'd?
Art helps a face; a face, though heavenly fair,
May quickly fade for want of needful care.
In ancient days if women flighted dress,
Then men were ruder too, and lik'd it lefs.
If Hectors fpoufe was clad in ftubborn stuff,
A foldier's wife became it well enough.
Ajax, to fhield his ample breaft, provides
Seven lufty bulls, and tans their sturdy hides;
And might not he d'ye think, be well carefs'd,
And yet his wife not elegantly dress'd ?
With rude fimplicity Rome first was built,
Which now we see adorn'd, and carv'd, and gilt.

This capitol with that of old compare ;

Some other Jove, you'd think, was worship'd there. That lofty pile, where fenates dictate law,

When Tatius reign'd, was poorly thatch'd with straw •
And where Apollo's fane refulgent flands,
Was heretofore a track of pasture-lands,
Let ancient manners other men delight;
But me the modern please, as more polite.
Not that materials now in gold are wrought,
And diftant fhores for orient pearls are fought;
Nor for, that hills exhauft their marble veins,
And ftructures rife whofe bulk the fea reftrains;
But, that the world is civiliz'd of late,
And polish'd from the ruft of former date.
Let not the nymph with pendants load her ear,
Nor in embroidery, or brocade, appcar;
Too rich a drefs may fometimes check defire;
And cleanlinefs more animates love's fire.

The hair difpos'd, may gain or lose a grace,
And much become, or misbecome the face.
What fuits your features, of your glafs enquire;
For no one rule is fix'd for head-attire.

A face too long should part and flat the hair,
Left, upward comb'd, the length too much appear :
So Laodamia drefs'd. A face too round

Should fhow the cars, and with a tower be crown'd.
On either shoulder, one, her locks difplays;
Adorn'd like Phoebus, when he fings his lays :
Another, all her treffes ties behind;

So drefs'd, Diana hunts the fearful hind.

Difhevel'd locks moft graceful are to fome;
Others, the binding fillets more become:
Some plait, like fpiral shells, their braided hair,
Others, the loose and waving curl prefer.
But to recount the feveral dreffes worn,
Which artfully each several face adorn,
Were endless, as to tell the leaves on trees,
The beafts on Alpine hills, or Hybla's bees.
Many there are, who feem to flight all care,
And with a pleafing negligence enfnare;
Whofe mornings oft in such a dress are spent,
And all is art that looks like accident.
With fuch diforder Iole was grac'd,

When great Alcides firft the nymph embrac'd.
So Ariadne came to Bacchus' bed,
When with the conqueror from Crete fhe fled.
Nature, indulgent to the fex, repays
The loffes they fuftain, by various ways.
Men ill fupply those hairs they shed in age,

Loft, like autumnal leaves, when north-winds rage.
Women, with juice of herbs, grey locks disguise,
And Art gives colour which with Nature vies.

The well-wove towers they wear, their own are thought ;
But only are their own, as what they 've bought.
Nor need they blush to buy heads ready dress'd,
And chufe, at public shops, what suits them beft.
Coftly apparel let the fair-one fly,

Enrich'd with gold, or with the Tyrian dye.
What folly muft in fuch expence appear,
When more becoming colours are lefs dear?

One, with a dye is ting'd of lovely blue;
Such as, through air ferene, the fky we view.
With yellow luftre see another spread,
As if the golden-fleece compos'd the thread.
Some, of the fea-green wave the caft display ;
With this the nymphs their beauteous forms array:
And fome the faffron hue will well adorn;
Such is the mantle of the blufhing morn.
Of myrtle-berries, one, the tincture shows;
In this, of amethyfts, the purple grows,
And, that, more imitates the paler rofe.
Nor Thracian cranes forget, whofe filvery plumes
Give patterns, which employ the mimic looms.

Nor almond, nor the chefnut dye disclaim ;
Nor others, which from wax derive their name.
As fields you find, with various flowers o'erfpread,
When vineyards bud, and winter's froft is Acd;
So various are the colours you may try,

Of which, the thirsty wool imbibes the dye,
Try every one: what best becomes you, wear;
For no complexion all alike can bear.

If fair the fkin, black may become it beft,
In black the lovely fair Brifeis dress'd :

If brown the nymph, let her be cloath'd in white,
Andromeda fo charm'd the wondering fight.

I need not warn you of too-powerful smells,
Which, fometimes health, or kindly heat, expels.
Nor, from your tender legs to pluck with care
The cafual growth of all unfeemly hair.

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