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And, laid in state upon their hearse,
Are truly but embalm'd in verse ;
As sure as Lesbia's Sparrow I,
Thou sure as Prior's Dove, must die,
And ne’er again from Lethe's streams
Return to Adige, or to Thames.
T. I therefore weep Columbo dead,
My hopes bereav'd, my pleasures fled;
66 I therefore muft for ever moan
“ My dear Columbo dead and gone.”
s. Columbo never sees your tears,
Your cries Columbo never hears ;
A wall of brass, and one of lead,
Divide the living from the dead.
Repell’d by this, the gather'd rain
Of tears beats back to earth again ;
In t other the collected found
Of groans, when once receiv’d, is drown'd.
'Tis therefore vain one hour to grieve,
What Time itself can ne'er retrieve.
By nature soft, I know a Dove
Can never live without her Love;
Then quit this fame, and light another ;
Dame, I advise you like a brother.
T. What, I to make a second choice!
In other nuptials to rejoice !
S. Why not, my bird?
T. No, Sparrow, no !
Let me indulge my pleasing woe:
Thus sighing, cooing, ease my pain,
170 But never wilh, nor love, again : Distress'd for ever, let me moan “ My dear Columbo, dead and gone."
S. Our winged friends through all the grove Contemn thy mad excess of love :
175 I tell thee, Dame, the other day I met a Parrot and a Jay, Who mock'd thee in their mimic tone, And “
wept Columbo, dead and gone." T. Whate'er the Jay or Parrot said, 180 My hopes are lost, my joys are fed ; And I for ever must deplore “ Columbo dead and gone.”
· S. Encore ! For shame! forsake this Bion-stile, We 'll talk an hour, and walk a mile.
115 Does it with sense or health agree, To fit thus moping on a tree? To throw away a widow's life, When you again may be a wife! Come on! I'll tell you my amours ;
190 Who knows but they may influence yours; “ Example draws where Precept fails, 6 And Sermons are less read than Tales.”
T. Sparrow, I take thee for my friend, As such will hear thee: I descend;
390 Hop on, and talk; but, honest bird, Take care that no immodest word May venture to offend my ear. S. Too saint-like Turtle, never fear:
By method things are best discours’d,
Begin we then with Wife the first :
A handsome, senseless, awkward fool,
Who would not yield, and could not rule :
Her actions did her charms disgrace,
And still her tongue talk'd of her face :
Count me the leaves on yonder tree,
So many different wills had she,
And, like the leaves, as chance inclin'd,
Those wills were chang’d with every
She courted the beau-monde to-night,
L'asemblée, her supreme delight;
The next lhe fat immur'd, unseen,
And in full health enjoy'd the spleen;
She censur'd that, she alter'd this,
And with great care fet all amiss ;
She now could chide, now laugh, now cry,
Now sing, now pout, all God knows why :
Short was her reign, she cough'd, and dy'd.
Proceed we to my second bride ;
Well-born she was, genteelly bred,
And buxom both at board and bed ;
Glad to oblige, and pleas’d to please,
And, as Tom Southern wisely says,
“ No other fault had she in life,
“ But only that she was my wife *.”
O widow Turtle ! every she
(So Nature's pleasure does decree)
* See - The Wife's Excuse, a comedy."
Appears a goddess till enjoy’d;
But Birds, and Men, and Gods, are cloy'd.
Was Hercules one Woman's Man ?
Or Jore for ever Leda's Swan ?
Ah! madam, cease to be mistaken,
Few marry'd fowl peck Dunmow-bacon.
Variety alone gives joy,
The sweetest meats the soonest cloy.
What Sparrow-dame, what Dore alive,
Though Venus should the chariot drive, 235
But would accuse the harness weight,
If always coupled to one mate ;
And often with the fetter broke?
'Tis freedom but to change the yoke.
T. Impious! to wish to wed again, 24 Ere death diffolv'd the former chain !
S. Spare your remark, and hear the rest; She brought me sons; but (Jove be bles!) She dy'd in child-bed on the nest. Well, rest her bones ! quoth I, the 's gone; 245 But must I therefore lie alone? What! am I to her memory ty’d? Must I not live, because she dy'd ? And thus I Jogically said ('Tis good to have a reasoning head !)
250 Is this my Wife? Probatur, not ; For death diffolv'd the marriage-knot : She was, concedo, during life; But, is a piece of clay a Wife?
Again ; if not, a Wife, d'ye fee,
235 Why then no kin at all to me : And he, who general tears can shed For folks that happen to be dead, May e'en with equal justice mourn For those who never yet were born.
260 T. Those points indeed you quaintly prove : But Logick is no friend to Love.
S. My children then were just pen-feather'd :
Some little corn for them I gather'd,
And fent them to my spouse's mother ;
So left that brood, to get another :
And, as old Harry whilom said,
Reflecting on Anne Boleyn dead,
Cocksbones! I now again do stand
The jollyest bachelor i'th' land.
T. Ah me! my joys, my hopes, are fled ;
My firft, my only Love, is dead :
With endless grief let me bemoan
- Let me go on.
As yet my fortune was but narrow,
I woo'd my cousin Philly Sparrow,
O'th' elder house of Chirping End,
From whence the younger branch descend.
Well seated in a field of pease
She liv'd, extremely at her ease :
But, when the honey-moon was past,
The following nights were foon o'ercast;