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Does down her ivory bosom roll,
LINES WRITTEN IN AN OVID.1
Ovip is the surest guide
You can name to show the way
any woman, maid, or bride,
Who resolves to go astray. 1 Translated from a Madrigal of Gilbert, sur l’Art d’Aimer d'Ovide.
A REASONABLE AFFLICTION.
1 On his death-bed poor Lubin lies;
His spouse is in despair:
They both express their care.
2 A different cause, says parson Sly,
The same effect may give;
His wife, that he may live.
From her own native France as old Alison past,
Her eye-brow box one morning lost,
ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
In a dark corner of the house
Poor Helen sits, and sobs and cries;
Nor her more dear picquet-allies: Unless she find her eye-brows,
She'll even weep out her eyes.
ON THE SAME SUBJECT.
1 HELEN was just slipt into bed:
Her eye-brows on the toilet lay: Away the kitten with them fled,
As fees belonging to her prey.
2 For this misfortune careless Jane,
Assure yourself, was loudly rated; And madam, getting up again,
With her own hand the mouse-trap baited.
3 On little things, as sages write,
Depends our human joy or sorrow; If we don't catch a mouse to-night,
Alas! no eye-brows for to-morrow.
1 How old may Phillis be, you ask,
Whose beauty thus all hearts engages; To answer is no easy task,
For she has really two ages.
2 Stiff in brocade, and pinched in stays,
Her patches, paint, and jewels on; All day let envy view her face,
And Phillis is but twenty-one.
3 Paint, patches, jewels laid aside,
At night astronomers agree,
And Phillis is some forty-three.
FORMA BONUM FRAGILE.
What a frail thing is beauty! says Baron Le Cras, Perceiving his mistress had one eye of glass;
And scarcely had he spoke it; When she more confused as more angry she grew, By a negligent rage proved the maxim too true:
She dropped the eye, and broke it.
A CRITICAL MOMENT. How capricious were Nature and Art to poor Nell! She was painting her cheeks at the time her nose fell.
WRITTEN TO THE DUKE DE NOALLES.
1 Vain the concern which you express, That uncalled Alard will possess
Your house and coach, both day and night, And that Macbeth was haunted less
By Banquo's restless sprite.
An ill, you may so soon retrieve?
By much, than you believe.
3 Lend him but fifty louis-d'or,
shall never see him more:
But to secure our rest?
EPILOGUE TO PHÆDRA AND HIPPOLITUS.
BY MR EDMUND SMITH.
SPOKEN BY MRS OLDFIELD,
WHO ACTED ISMENA.
LADIES, to-night your pity I implore
If that be all, said I, even burn your play;
But, as it is, six flouncing Flanders mares
Now of the bustle you have seen to-day, And Phadra's morals in this scholar's play, 1 Acted 1708. The prologue by Addison was received coldly. Smith, alias · Rag,' was a sad scamp-born 1668, died 1710.-See Johnson's 'Poets.'