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ON BEAUTY.. THE QUESTION:. LISETTA'S REPLY. There's one, the best in all my quiver,

Here listening Cloe smild, and said: Tvang! through his very heart and liver;

" Your riddle is not hard to read : He then shall pine, and sigh, and rave:

I guess it."--" Fair one, if you do, Good Lord! what bustle shall we have!

Need 1, alas! the theme pursue? Neptune must straight be sent to sea,

For this, thou secst, for this I leave And Flora summon'd twice a day:

Whate'er the world thinks wise or grave, One must tind shells, and t' other flowers,

Ambition, business, friendship, neus, For cooling grots, and fragrant bowers,

My liseful bouks, and serious Muse. That Cloe may be serv'd in state,

For this, I willingly decline The Hours inust at her toilet wait:

The inirth of feasts, and joys of wine; Whilst all the reasoning fools below

And choose to sit and talk with thee Wonder their watches go too slow.

(As thy great orders may decree) Lyls must fly south, and Eurus cast,

Of cocks and bulls, and flutes and fiddies,
Tor jewels for her hair and breast.

Of idle tales and foolish riddles.”
No matter, though their crucl vaste
Sink cities, and lay forests waste.
No matter, though this ticet be lost;
Or that lie wind-bound on the coa-t.

THE QUESTION:
What whispering in my mother's ear!
What care, that Juno should not hear!
What work among you scholar gods!

Waar nymph should I admire or trust,
Phæbus must write him amorous odes.

But Cloe beauteous, Cloe just? And thou, poor cousin, must compose

What nymph should I desire to see, His letters in submissive prose;

But ber who leares the plain for me? Whilst haughty Cloe, to sustain

To whom shonld I compose the lay, The honour of my mystic reign,

But her who listens when I play? Shall all his gifts and vows dis lain,

To whom in song repent my cares, And laugh at your old bully's pain."

But her who in iny sorrow shares ? “ Dear couz," said Hermes, in a fright,

For whom shoulil I the garland make : * For Heaven's sake! keep your darts! good night.” But her who joys the gift to take,

And boa-ts she wears it for my sake.
In love am I not fully blest?

Lisetta, priythee tell the rest.
ON BEAUTY.

TO LISETTA.

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A RIDDLE
Resolve me, Cloe, what is this:
Or forfeit me one precious kiss.
'Tis the first ofispring of the Graces;
Bears different forms in different places;
Acknowledg'd fine, where'er behold;
Yet fancied finer, when conccal'd.
'Twas Flora's wealth, and Circe's charm;
Pandora's box of good and harm:
'Twas Mars's wish, Endyinion's dream;
Apelles' draught, and Ovid's theme.
This goded Theseus through the maze;
And sent hiin home with life and praise :
But this endid the Phrygian boy;
And blew the flames that ruin'd Troy.
This show'd great kindness to old Greece,
And help'd rich Jason to the fleece.
This through the East just vengeance hurld,
And lost poor Anthony the world.
Injur'a, though Lucrece found her doom,
This banish'd tyranny from Roine.
appeas'd, though Iais gain’d her hire,
This set Persepolis on fire.
For this Alcirles learn'd to spin :
His club laid down, and lion's skin.
For this Apollo deign'd to keep,
With servile care, a martal's sheep.
For this the father of the gods,
Content to leave his high abodes,
In borrow'd figures loosely ran,
Europa's bull, and Leda's swan:
For this he re-assumes the nod,
(Wbile Semele commands the god)
Launches the bolt, and shakes the potes:
Though Momus laughs, and Juno scolds.

LISETTA'S REPLY.
Sure Cloc just, and Cloe fair,
Deserves to be your only care:
But, whi'n you and she today
Far into the wood did stray,
And I happen'd to pass by' ;
Which way did you cast your eye?
But, when your cares to her you sing,
Yet dare not tell her whence they spring?
Does it not more afflict your heart,
That in those cares she bears a part?
When you the flowers for Cloe twine,
Why do you to her garland join
The meanest bud that falls from mine?
Simplest of swains! the world may see
Whom Cloe loves, and who loves me.

THE GARLAND,
The pride of every grove I chose,

The violet sweet and lily fair,
The dappled pink, and blushing rose,

To deck my charining Cloe's hair.
At morn the nymph vouchsaf'd to place

Upon her brow the various wreath;
The flowers less blooming than her face,

The scent less fragrant than her breath.
The flowers she wore along the day:

And every nymph and shepherd said,
That in her hair they look'd more gay

Than glowing in their native bed.

Undrest at evening, when she found

When in my glass I chanc'd to look ; Their odours lost, their colours past;

Of Venus what did I implore? She chang'd her look, and on the ground

That every grace, which thence I took, Her garland and her eye she cast.

Should know to charm my Damon more. That eye dropt sense distinct and clear,

Reading thy verse; “ Who heeds," said I, As any Muse's tongue could speak,

“ If here or there his glances flew ? When from its lid a pearly tcar

0, free for ever be his eye, Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek.

Whose beart to me is always true !"

My bloom indeed, my little flower Dissembling what I knew too well,

Of Beauty quickly lost its pride : “ My love, my life,” said I, “explain

For, sever'd from its native bower, This change of humour: pr’ythee tell:

It on thy glowing bosom dy'd. That falling tear—what does it mean?"

Yet card I not what might presage She sighd; she smil'd: and, to the flowers

Or withering wreath, or fleeting youth; Pointing, the lovely moralist said :

Love I esteem'd more strong than Age, See, friend, in some few fleeting hours,

And Time less permanent than 'Truthe See yonder, what a change is made !

Why then I weep, forbear to know : “ Ah, me! the blooming pride of May,

Fall uncontrollid, my tears, and free ; And that of Beauty, are but one:

O Damon! tis the only woe, At mom both flourish bright and gay ;

I ever yet conceal'd from thee. Both fade at evening, pale, and gone.

The secret wound with which I bleed At dawn poor Stella danc'd and sung ;

Shall lie wrapt up, ev'n in my hearse; The amorous youth around her bow'd :

But on my tonb-stone thou shalt read At night her fatal knell was rung;

My answer to thy dubious verse. I saw, and kiss'd her in her shroud. “ Such as she is, who died today;

Such I, alas! may be tomorrow : Go, Damon, bid thy Muse display

ANSWER TO CHLOE JEALOUS, The justice of thy Cloe's sorrow.'

IN THE SAME STYLE; THE AUTHOR SICK. Yes, fairest proof of Beauty's power,

Dear idol of my panting heart,

Nature points this my fatal hour:
THE LADY WHO OFFERS HER LOOKING And I have liv'd; and we must part
GLASS TO VENUS.

While now I take my last adieu,

Heave thou no sigh, nor shed a tear ;
TAKEN FROM AN EPIGRAM OF PLATO.

Lest yet my half-clos'd eye may view
Venus, take my votive glass;

On earth an object worth its care, Since I am not what I was,

From Jealousy's tormenting strife What from this day I shall be,

For ever be thy bosom freed : Venus, let me never see.

That nothing may disturb thy life,

Content I hasten to the dead.
Yet when some better-fated youth

Shall with his amorous parley move thee;
CLOE JEALOUS.

Ret ect one moment on his truth
FORBEAR to ask me, why I weep;

Who, dying thus, persists to love thee.
Vext Cloe to her shepherd said;
'Tis for iny two poor straggling sheep,
Perhaps, or for my squirrel dead.

A BETTER ANSWER.
For mind I what you late have writ?
Your subtle questions and replies ?

Dear Cloe, how blubber'd is that pretty face! Embleins, to teach a female wit

Thy cheek all on fire, and thy hair all uncurld: The ways, where changing Capid Aies?

Pr’ythee quit this caprice; and (as old Falstaffsays) Your riddle purpos’d to rehearse

Let us ev'n talk a little like folks of this world. The general power that beauty bas:

How canst thou presume, thou hast leave to destroy But why did not peculiar verse

The beauties, which Venus but lent to thy keepDescribe one charm of Cloe's face?

ing? The glass, which was at Venus' shrine,

Those looks were design'd to inspire love and jog : With such niysterious sorrow laid :

More ordinary eyes may serve people for weepThe garland (and you call it mie)

ing. Which show'd how youth and beauty fade : To be vext at a trife or two that I writ, Ten thousand trifes light as these

Your judgment at once, and my passion, you Nor can my raze, nor anger, inove :

wrong: She should be humble, who would please ;

You take that for fact, which will scarce be found wit: And she must sufler, who can love,

Od's-life! must one swear to the truth of a song!

PALLAS AND VENUS.. A YOUNG GENTLEMAN IN LOVE. 138 What I speak, my fair Cloe, and what I write, To sum up all the rage of fate shous

In the two things I dread and hate,
The difference there is betwixt Nature and Art: May'st thou be false, and I be great!"
I court others in verse ; but I love thee in prose : Thus, on his Celia's panting breast,
And they have my whimsics, but thou hast my Fomul Celadon his soul exprest;
heart.

While with delight the lovely maid

Receiv'd the vows she thus repaid : The god of us verse-men, (you know, child) the Sun,

“ Hope of my age, joy of my youth, How after his journeys he sets up his rest :

Blest miracle of love and truth; If at morning o'er earth 'tis his fancy to run;

All that could e'er be counted mine, At night he declines on his Thetis's brcast.

My love and life, long since are thinė; So when I am weary'd with wandering all day, A real joy I never knew,

To thee my delight in the evening I come : Till I believ'd thy passion true :
No matter what beauties I saw in my way;

A real grief I ne'er can find,
They were but my visits, but thou art my home. Till tbou prov'st perjur'd, or unkind.

Contempt, and poverty, and care,
Then finish, dear Cloe, this pastoral war;

All we abhor, and all we fear, And let us like Horace and Lydia agree :

Blest with thy presence, I can bear. For thou art a girl as much brighter than her,

Through waters and through flames I'll 50,
As he was a poet sublimer than ine.

Suflerer and solace of thy woe :
Trace me some yet unheard-of way,
That I thy ardour may repay ;

And make my constant passion known
PALLAS AND VENUS.

By more than woman yet has done.

“ Had I a wish that did not bear

The stamp and image of my dear,
The Trojan swain had judg’d the great dispute, I'd pierce my heart through every vein,
And Beauty's power obtain’d the golden fruit; And die, to let it out again.
When Venus, loose in all her naked charms, No: Venus shall my witness be
Met Jore's great daughter clad in shining arms.

(If Venus ever lov'd like me),
The wanton goddess view'd the warlike maid That for one hour I would not quit
From head to foot, and tauntingly she said : My shepherd's arms, and this retreat,
“ Yield, sister; rival, yield: naked, you see,

To be the Persian monarch's bride, I vanquish : guess how potent I should be, Partner of all his power and pride; If to the field I came in armour drest;

Or rule in regal state above, Dreadful, like tbine, my shield, and terrible my Mother of gods, and wife of Jove." crest!”

O happy these of human race! The warrior goddess, with disdain, reply'd : But soon, alas! our pleasures pass. “ Thy folly, child, is equal to thy gods :

He thank'd her on his bended knee; Let a brave enemy for once advise,

Then drank a quart of milk and tea; And Venus (if 'tis possible) be wise.

And leaving her ador'd embrace,
Thou, to be strong, must put off every dress : Hasten'd to court, to beg a place.
Thy only armour is thy nakedness;

While she, his absence to bemoan,
And inore than once (or thou art much bely'd) The very moment he was gone,
By Mars himself that armour has been try'd." (all'd Thyrsis from beneath the bed!

Where all this time he had been hid.

AN EPIGRAM.

MORAL

TO A YOUNG GENTLEMAN IN LOVE.

A TALE.

WHve men have these ambitious fancies;
And wanton wenches read romances;
Our sex will-What? Out with it. Lye;
And theirs in equal strains reply.
The moral of the tale I sing
(A posy for a wedding ring)
In this short verse will be confin’d:
Love is a jest, and vows are wind.

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“ From public noise and factious strife,
From all the busy ills of life,
Take me, my Celja, to thy breast;
And lull my wearied soul to rest.
For ever, in this humble cell,
Let thee and I, my fair one, dwell;
None enter else, but Love-and he
Shall bar the door, and keep the key.

“ 'To painted roof and shining spires
(Uneasy seats of high desires)
Let the unthinking many crowe,
That dare be coretous and proud:
In golden bondage let them wait,
And barter happiness for state.
But oh! my Celia, when thy swain
Desjres to see a court again,
May Heaven around this destin'd head
The choicest of its curses shed !

AN ENGLISH PADLOCK.
Miss Danaë, when fair and young,
(As Horace has divinely sung)
Could not be kept froin Jove's embrace
By doors of steel, and wally of brass.
The reason of the thing is clear, .
Would Jove the naked truth aver.
Cupid was with him of the party,
And show d himself sincere and hearty;

Tor, give that whipster but his errand,

Be to her virtues very kind; He takes my lori chief justice' warrant:

Be to her faults a little blind; Dauntless as Death, away he walks;

Let all her ways be unconfin'd;
Breaks the doors open, snaps the locks;

And clap your padlock-on hér mind."
Searches the parlour, chamber, study;
Nor stops till he has culprit's body.

" Since this has been autheptic truth,
By age delivered down to youth;
Tell us, mistaken husband, tell us,

HANS CARVEL.
Why so mysterious, why so jealous?
Does the restraint, the bolt, the bar,

Hans Carver., impotent and old,
Make us less curious, her less fair?

Married a lass of London mold: The spy, which does this treasure keep,

Handsomne? enough ; extremely gay: Does she ne'er say her prayers, nor sleep

Lov'd music, company, and play: Does she to no excess incline?

High flights she had, and it at will; Does she dy music, mirth, and wine?

And so her tongue lay seldom still : Or bave not gold and flattery power

For, in all visits, who but she, To purchase onc unguarded hour ?”

To argue, or to repartée? " Your care does further yet extend:

She made it plain, that buman passion That spy is guarded by your friend."

Was order'd by predestination; “ But has this friend nor eye nor heart?

That, if weak women went astray, May he not feel the cruel dart,

Their stars were more in fault than they: Which, soon or late, all mortals feel?

Whole tragedies she had by heart; May he not, with too tender zeal,

Enter'd into Roxana's part: Give the fair prisoner cause to see,

To triumph in her rival's blood, How much he wishes she were free?

The action certainly was good. May he not craftily infer

“How like a vine young Ammon curld! The rules of friendship too severe,

On that dear congueror of the worid !" Which chain him to a hated trust;

She pitied Betterton in age, Which make him wretched, to be just ?

That ridicul'd the god-like rage. And may not she, this darling she,

She, first of all the town, was told, Youthful and healthy, Acsh and blood,

Where newest India things were sold: Easy with him, ill us'd by thee,

So in a morning, without bodice, Allow this logic to be good ?”

Slipt sometimes out to Mrs. Thody's; “Sir, will your questions never end?

To cheapen tea, to buy a screen: I trust to neither spy nor friend.

What else could so much virtue mean? In short, I keep her from the sight

Por, to prevent the least reproach, Of every human face.”—“She'll write."

Betty went with her in thc coach. “ From pen and paper she's debarr'd.”

But, when no very great affair “ Has she a bodkin and a card ?

Excited her peculiar care,
She'll prick her mind."" She will, you say: She, without fail, was wak'd at ten;
But how shall she that mind convey ?

Drank chocolate, then slept again :
I keep her in one rooin: I lock it:

At twelve she rose; with much ado The key (look here) is in this pocket."

Her clothes were huddled on by two; “ The key - hole, is that left?” --" Most cer Then, “ Does my lady dine at home?” tain."

“Yes, sure !"-". But is the colonel come !! " She'll thrust her letter through, sir Martin." Next, how to spend the afternoon,

“ Dear, angry friend, what imust be done? And not come home again too soon; Is there no way?"-" There is but one.

The change, the city, or the play, Send her abroad : and let her see,

As each was proper for the day: That all this mingled mass, which she,

A turn, in summer, to Hyde-park, Being forbidden, longs to know,

When it grew tolerably dark. Is a dull farce, an empty show,

Wife's pleasure causes husband's pain: Powder, and pocket-glass, and beau ;

Strange fancies come in Hans's brain: A staple of romance and lies,

He thought of what he did not name; False tears and real perjuries :

And would reform, but durst not blame. Where sighs and looks are bought and sold,

At first he therefore preach'd his wife And love is made but to be told:

The comforts of a pious life : Where the fat bawd and lavish heir

Told her, how transient beauty was; The spoils of ruin'd beauty share;

That all must die, and flesh was grass : And youth, seduc'd from friends and fame,

He bought her sermons, psalms and graces, Must give up age to want and shame.

And doubled down the useful places. Let her behold the frantic scene,

But still the weight of worldly care The women wretched, false the men:

Allow'd her little time for prayer: And when, these certain ills to shun,

And Cleopatra was read o'er; She would to thy embraces run;

While Scot, and Wake, and twenty more, Receive her with extended arms,

That teach one to deny one's-self, Seem more delighted with her charms;

Stood unmolested on the shelf. Wait on her to the Park and play;

An untouch'd Bible grac'd her toilet: Put on good-humour; make her gay;

No fear that thumb of hers should spoil it

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DUTCH PROVERB...PAULO PURGANTI AND HIS WIFE. 155 In short, the trade was still the same:

Appear'd to honest Hans again; The dame went out: the colonel caine.

But not at all by madam seen: “ What's to be done?” poor Carvel cry'd : And, giving him a magic ring, " Another battery must be try'd :

Fit for the finger of a king; What if to spells I had recourse?

“ Dear Hans," said he, “this jewel take, 'Tis but to hinder something worse.

And wear it long for Satan's sake: The end must justify the means;

"Twill do your business to a bair: He only sins who ill intends :

For, long as you this ring shall wear, Since, therefore, 'tis to combat evil,

As sufe as I look over Lincoln, "Tis lawful to employ the Devil.”

That ne'er shall happen, which you think on." Forthwith the Devil did appear,

Hans took the ring, with joy extreme, (For naine hiin, and he's always near)

(All this was only in a dream) Not in the shape in which he plies

Anil, thrusting it beyond his joint, At miss's elbow when she lies,

"l'is done,” he cry'd: “I've gain'd my point."Or stands before the nursery doors,

What point,” said she, “

you ugly beast? To take the naughty boy that roars:

You neither give me joy nor rest."But, without sawcer eye or claw,

"Tis donc,"-"What's done, you drunken bear? Like a grare barrister at law.

You've thrust your finger God knows where!" “ Hans Carvel, lay aside your grief,” The Devil says; “ I bring relief." “ Relief !” says Hans : " pray, let me crave Your name, şir?"-". Satan,"

your slave;

A DUTCH PROV'ERB.
I did not look upon your feet:
You'll pardon me:-Aye, now I see't:

“Fire, water, woman, are man's ruin," And pray, sir, when came you from Hell?

Cays wise professor Vander Brüin. Our friends there, did you leave them well?"-

By flames a house I hir'd was lost “ All rell; but pr’ythee, honest Hans,"

I ast year: and I must pay the cost. Says Satan, " leave your complaisance:

This spring the rains o'erflow'd my ground : The truth is this : I cannot stay

And my best Flanders mare was drown'd. Fiaring in sun shine all the day :

A sleve I am to Clara's eyes: For, entre nous, we hellish sprites

The gipsy kuowo her power, and fies. Love more the fresco of the nights;

Fire, watır, woman, are my ruin:
And oftener ous receipts convey,

And great thy wisdoin, Vander Brüin.
In dreams, than any other way.
I tell you, th refore, as a friend,
Ere morning ilawns, your fears shall end :
Go then, this evening, master Carvel,
Lay doen your fowls, and broach your barrel ;

PAULO,PURGANTİ AND HIS WIFE;
Let frien's and wine dissolve your care ;
Whilst I the great receipt prepare :

AN HONEST, BUT A SIMPLE PAIR. Tonight I'll bring it, by my faith!

Est enim quiddam, idque intelligitur in omni vir. Believe for once what Satan saith."

tute, quod deccat: quod cogitatione magis a Away went Hans: Glad? Not a little;

virtute potest quàm re separari. Obey'd the Devil to a tittle;

Cic. de OL. 1. Invited friends some halt a dozen,

BEYOND the fix'd and settled rules
Th: colonel, anrl my lady's cousin.

Of vicc and virtue in the schools,
The meat was serv'd; the bowls were crown'd;
Catches were sung; and healths went round;

Peyond the letter of the law,
Barbadoes waters for the close;

Which keeps our men and maids in awe,

The better sort should sit before 'em
Till Hans had fairly got his dose :
The colon toasted " To the best :"

A grace, a manner, a decorun;
The dame mov d off, to be undrest:

Something, that gives their acts a light;

Makes them not only just, but bright;
The chimes went twelve: the guests withdrew:
But when, or how, Hans hardly knew.

And sets them in that open fame,
Some modern anecdotes aver,

Which witty Valice cannot blame. He noderd in his elbow-chais;

For 'tis in life, as 'tis in painting: From thence was carried off to bed:

Much may be right, yet much be wanting; John held his heels, and Nan his head.

From lines drawn true, our eve may trace My lad, was disturb'd: new sorrow!

A foot, a knee, a hand, a face ; Which Hans must answer for to-morrow,

May justly own the picture wrought In bed then view this happy pair;

Exact to rule, exempt from fault: And think how Hymen triumph'd there.

Yet, if the colouring be not there,

The Titian stroke, the Guido air;
Hans fast asleep as soon as laid,
The duty of the night unpaid:

To nicest judginent show the piece,
The waking dame, with thoughts opprest,

At best, 'twill only not displease:

It would not gain on Jersey's eye;
That made her hate both him and rest :
By such a husband, such a wife!

Bradford would frown, and set it by. 'Twas Acme's and Septimius' life:

Thus, in the picture of our mind, The lady sighd: the lover snor'd :

The action may be well design'd;

Guided by law, and bound by duty ; The punctual Devil kept his word:

Yet want this je ne sçai quoi of beaụty:

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