T length, by fo much importunity prefs'd,
Take, C at once the infide of
This stupid indiff'rence fo often you blame,
Is not owing to nature, to fear, or to fhame.
I am not fo cold as a virgin in lead,
Nor is Sunday's fermon fo ftrong in my head:
I know but too well how time flies along,
That we live but few years, and yet fewer are young.
But I hate to be cheated, and never will buy
Long years of repentance for moments of joy.
Oh! was there a man (but where fhall I find
Good-fenfe and good-nature fo equally join'd?)
Would value his pleasure, contribute to mine;
Not meanly would boaft, nor would lewdly defign,
Not over fevere, yet not ftupidly vain,
For I would have the power, tho' not give the pain.
No pedant, yet learned; nor rake-helly gay,
Or laughing, because he has nothing to fay;
To all my whole sex obliging and free,
Yet ne'er be he fond of any but me;
In publick preserve the decorum that's juft,
And shew in his eyes he is true to his truft;
Then rarely approach, and respectfully bow,
But not fulfomely pert, or foppishly low.
But when the long hours of publick are past,
And we meet with champagne and a chicken at laft,
May ev'ry fond pleasure that moment endear;
Be banish'd afar both discretion and fear!
Forgetting or fcorning the airs of the crowd,
He may cease to be formal, and I to be proud,
Till loft in the joy, we confess that we live,
And he may be rude, and yet I may forgive.
And that my delight may be folidly fix'd,
Let the friend and the lover be handsomely mix'd,
In whofe tender bofom my foul may confide,
Whose kindness can footh me, whofe counsel can guide.
From fuch a dear lover as here I defcribe,
No danger fhould fright me, no millions fhould bribe ; But till this aftonishing creature I know,
As I long have liv'd chafte, I will keep myself fo.
I never will share with the wanton coquet,
Or be caught by a vain affectation of wit.
The toasters and fongfters may try all their art,
But never shall enter the pass of my heart.
I loath the lewd rake, the dress'd fopling defpife:
Before fuch purfuers the nice virgin flies :
And as OVID has fweetly in parables told,
We harden like trees, and like rivers
Written extempore on a Window.
ST thirft of praise, and vain defire of fame,
In ev'ry age, is ev'ry woman's aim;
With courtship pleas'd, of filly toafters proud,
Fond of a train, and happy in a crowd;
On each poor fool bestowing some kind glance,
Each conqueft owing to fome loofe advance;
While vain coquets affect to be purfu'd,
And think they're virtuous, if not grofsly lewd:
Let this great maxim be my virtue's guide;
In part fhe is to blame that has been try’d-
He comes too near that comes to be deny'd.
The GENTLEMAN'S ANSWER.
WHILST pretty fellows think a woman's fame
In ev'ry state and ev'ry age the fame ;
With their own folly pleas'd, the fair they tổast,
And where they least are happy, swear they're most;
No difference making 'twixt coquet and prude;
And her that seems, yet is not really lewd;
While thus they think, and thus they vainly live,
And taste no joys but what their fancies give:
Let this great maxim be my action's guide,
May I ne'er hope, tho' I am ne'er deny'd ;
Nor think a woman won, that's willing to be try'd.
W happy you! who varied joys pursue ;
And every hour prefents you fomething new?
Plans, fchemes, and models, all Palladio's art,
For fix long months have gain'd upon your heart;
Of colonades, of corridores you talk,
The winding ftair-cafe, and the cover'd walk
You blend the orders with Vitruvian toil,
And raise with wond'rous joy the fancy'd pile:
But the dull workman's flow performing hand
But coldly executes his lord's command.
With dirt and mortar foon you grow displeas'd,
Planting fucceeds, and avenues are rais'd,
Canals are cut, and mountains level made :
Bowers of retreat, and galleries of shade.
The fhaven turf presents a lively green;
The bordering flow'rs in myftick knots are seen :
With studied art on nature you refine→→
The spring beheld you warm in this defign,
But fcarce the cold attacks your fav'rite trees,
Your inclination fails, and wifhes freeze.
You quit the grove, fo lately you admir'd ;
With other views your eager hopes are fir'd,
Poft to the city you direct your way;
Not blooming paradise could bribe your stay :
-Ambition fhews your power's brighteft fide:
'Tis meanly poor in folitude to hide.
Tho' certain pains attend the cares of state,
A good man owes his country to be great;
Should act abroad the high diftinguish'd part,
Or fhew at least the purpose of his heart.
With thoughts like these the fhining courts you
Full of new projects for almost a week:
|