Infipid, fervile thing! whom I disdain !

"Her phlegm can best support the marriage chain.

"Damon is practis'd in the modish life ;

"Can hate and yet be civil to his wife;

"He games, he drinks, he fwears, he fights, he roves ; "Yet CLOE can believe he fondly loves. "Mistress and wife by turns fupply his need;

"A mifs for pleasure, and a wife for breed. "Powder'd with diamonds, free from fpleen or care, "She can a fullen husband's humour bear; "Her credulous friendship, and her ftupid ease, "Have often been my jeft in happier days : "Now CLOE boasts and triumphs in my pains ; "To her he's faithful; 'tis to me he feigns. "Am I that ftupid thing to bear neglect,

And force a smile, not daring to fufpect? "No, perjur'd man! a wife may be content, "But you fhall find a mistress can refent." Thus love-fick Lydia rav'd; her maid appears, And in her faithful hand the band-box bears; (The Ceftos that reform'd inconftant Jove Not better fill'd with what allur'd to love)

"How well this ribband's glofs becomes your face!" She cries in rapture; "then, fo fweet a lace! "How charmingly you look! fo bright! fo fair! "'Tis to your eyes the head-drefs owes its air!" Strait LYDIA fmil'd; the comb adjufts her locks; And at the play-houfe, HARRY keeps her box.

1

SATUR

SATURDAY.

The SMALL-POX.

FLAVIA.

HE wretched FLAVIA on her couch reclin'd,

ΤΗ

Thus breath'd the anguish of a wounded mind;

A glafs revers'd in her right hand fhe bore,

For now she shun'd the face she fought before.
'How am I chang'd! alas! how am I grown
A frightful spectre, to myself unknown!
'Where's my complexion? where my radiant bloom,
That promis'd happiness for years to come?
Then with what pleafure I this face furvey'd!
To look once more, my vifits oft delay'd!
Charm'd with the view, a fresher red would rife,
And a new life thot sparkling from my eyes!
Ah! faithlefs glafs, my wonted bloom restore ;
Alas! I rave, that bloom is now no more.
The greatest good the gods on men bestow,
'Ev'n youth itself to me is useless now.

There was a time (oh! that I cou'd forget!)
• When opera-tickets pour'd before my feet;
And at the ring, where brightest beauties shine,
The earliest cherries of the fpring were mine.
Witness, O Lilly; and thou, Motteux, tell,
How much japan these eyes have made ye fell.
G 3

• With

• With what contempt ye faw me oft despise The humble offer of the raffled prize;

• For at the raffle still each prize I bore,

With fcorn rejected, or with triumph wore. 'Now beauty's fled, and prefents are no more!

For me the Patriot has the house forfook, ⚫ And left debates to catch a paffing look: For me the Soldier has foft verfes writ: For me the Beau has aim'd to be a wit. For me the Wit to nonfenfe was betray'd; The Gamefter has for me his punt delay'd, And overfeen the card he would have play'd. ⚫ The bold and haughty by fuccefs made vain, • Aw'd by my eyes, have trembled to complain : The bafhful 'Squire touch'd by a wifh unknown, Has dar'd to speak with spirit not his own: • Fir'd by one with, all did alike adore; 'Now beauty's fled, and lovers are no more! • As round the room I turn my weeping eyes, • New unaffected scenes of forrow rise. Far from my fight that killing picture bear, The face disfigure, and the canvas tear : That picture, which with pride I us'd to show, • The loft resemblance but upbraids me now. And thou, my toilette, where I oft have fate, While hours unheeded pafs'd in deep debate, How curls fhould fall, or where a patch to place; If blue or fcarlet beft became my face;

}

'Now

6

Now on fome happier nymph your aid beftow;
On fairer heads, ye useless jewels, glow;
No borrow'd luftre can my charms restore ;

Beauty is fled, and dress is now no more.

• Ye meaner beauties, I permit ye shine;

Go, triumph in the hearts that once were mine; • But, 'midft your triumphs with confufion know, "Tis to my ruin all your charms ye owe.

• Wou'd pitying heav'n restore my wonted mien, ⚫ Ye still might move unthought of and unfeen:

But oh, how vain, how wretched is the boast

Of beauty faded, and of empire loft!

What now is left but weeping, to deplore
My beauty fled, and empire now no more?

Ye cruel chymifts, what with-held your aid!
• Could no pomatums fave a trembling maid ?
• How false and trifling is that art ye boaft!
No art can give me back my beauty lost.
In tears, furrounded by my friends I lay,
'Mafk'd o'er, and trembled at the fight of day;
MIRMILLIO came my fortune to deplore,

'(A golden-headed cane well carv'd he bore) 'Cordials, he cry'd, my fpirits must restore! Beauty is fled, and spirit is no more !

GALEN, the grave; officious SQUIRT was there, With fruitless grief and unavailing care :

MACHAON too, the great MACHAON, known
By his red cloak and his fuperior frown;

And why, he cry'd, this grief and this despair,
You fhall again be well, again be fair;

• Believe my oath; (with that an oath he swore)
Falfe was his oath; my beauty is no more!

Ceafe, hapless maid, no more thy tale purfue, Forfake mankind, and bid the world adieu! • Monarchs and beauties reign with equal fway; • All strive to ferve, and glory to obey :

Alike unpitied when depos'd they grow
Men mock the idol of their former vow.

Adieu! ye parks !—in some obfcure recefs,
Where gentle ftreams will weep at my diftrefs,
Where no falfe friend will in my grief take part,
And mourn my ruin with a joyful heart;
There let me live in fome deferted place,
There hide in fhades this loft inglorious face,

Plays, operas, circles, I no more must view!

My toilette, patches, all the world adieu!

The