For now their godships recollected,
'Twas Venus' self he had neglected,
Who in her vifits to this place
Had ftill worn Betty Dalfton's face.
Ode to Venus, from her Votaries of the Street.
RE these thy palms? oh queen of love!
Pity thy wretched votaries! From above
Behold them stroll, their bofoms bare,
Chill'd with the blafts of rude St. Clement's air
And twitch the fleeve with fly advance :
Roll the bright eye, or fhoot the fide-long glance:
Whilft the chafte moon, with envious light
Peeps thro' the curtain of the freezing night.
Not thus when Horace hymn'd thy praise,
You heard the Glyceras of happier days.
Oh goddess of love's pleafing pain!
From thy own ifle avert the froft, and rain ;
Nor let the little mouth inhale,
(Bane to the teeth) a rough, unfriendly gale;
Or flender ancle white, and neat,
Betray a splash from the polluted street.
Look down with pity on the woes,
That trace our footsteps, and our haunts enclose.
For thee, we forfeit fair renown,
Brave want and danger, orphans of the town; 7 VOL. V.
For thee, fuftain the cruel fhock
Of cauftic Franks, and cicatrizing Rock:
Happy! if Hermes' timely care,
The fearching deity of here and there,
Can foften the venereal doom,
And keep awhile pale beauty from the tomb.
But languid! lifelefs! cold, and bare,
Gone ev'ry tooth, and fallen ev'ry hair,
A prey to grief, remorse, disease,➖➖➖➖➖➖
Ah! Paphian Venus, faithlefs as the feas!
Fir'd by thy fpells, and magic charms,
We guiltless virgins glow'd at foft alarms.
Embark'd with youth, and airy fmiles,
The graces, playful loves and wanton wiles;
On pleasure's wave we loos'd the fails,
Alas! too credulous of flatt'ring gales ;
For lo! the heav'ns with clouds are spread,
The graces, loves, with youth are fled,
And leave the ship, an easy prize,
Unrigg'd and leaky to th' inclement skies.
I Dropt a thing in verfe, without a name;
I felt no cenfure, and I gain'd no fame:
The public saw the bastard in the cradle, But ne'er enquir'd; fo left it to the beadle.
A certain nobleman takes up the child,
The real father lay perdue, and smil❜d.
The public now enlarges every grace,
What shining eyes it has! how fair a face!
Of parts what symmetry! what strength divine!
The noble brat is fure of Pelops' line.
HE glow-worm scribblers of a feeble age,
Pale twinklers of an hour provoke my rage:
In each dark hedge we start an infect fire,
Which lives by night, and must at dawn expire;
Yet fuch their number that their fpecks combine,
And the unthinking vulgar fwear they thine.
Poets are prodigies fo greatly rare,
They seem the tasks of heav'n, and built with care:
Like funs, unquench'd, unrival'd and fublime,
They roll, immortal, o'er the wastes of time:
Ages in vain close round and fnatch in fame;
High over all still shines the Poet's name!
Lords of a life that scorns the bounds of breath,
They stretch existence and defy ftern death.
Glory and fhame are theirs--they plant renown,
Or fhade the Monarch's by the Mufe's crown:
To fay Auguftus reign'd when Virgil fhin'd,"
Does honour to the lord of half mankind.
So when three thousand years have wan'd away, And POPE is faid t' have liv'd when GEORGE bore sway, Millions fhall lend the King the Poet's fame,
And blefs implicit the Supported name..
TO POLLY LAURENCE, quitting the Pump.
PITE of beauty, air, and grace,
With honour haft thou run thy race!
In funfbine well thy part thou'ft play'd
Now, fweet Polly, feek the shade.
The prudent general, tho' beat,
Reaps honour from a good retreat;
But nobler thou, thy thousands kill'd,
With flying colours leav'ft the field.
Let not retirement give the spleen,
Thy fex's longing to be feen:
But teach the vicious and the vain,
Their pleasure's but refining pain.
Teach the gay by thy retreat,
Eternal giggle is not wit;
And the formal fool advise,
Prudery cannot make her wife.
Take with thee to thy private flate
Th' applaufes of the good and
The best reward below allow'd
Of a conduct great and good.
ODE, to a LADY in LONDON.
HILE foft through water earth, and air
W The vernal fpirits rove,
From noife, my dear, and giddy crowds.
To rural fcenes remove.
The mountain snows are all dissolv’d,
And hufh'd the bluft'ring gale,
While fragrant Zephyrs gently breathe
Along the flowery vale.
The circling planets' conftant rounds
The wintry waftes repair,
And ftill from temporary death
Renew the verdant year.
But ah! when once our tranfient bloom,
The spring of life, is o`er,
That rofy season takes its flight,
And muft return no more.
Yet judge by Reason's fober rules,
From false Opinion free,
And mark how little pilfering years
Can steal from you or me. Each moral pleasure of the heart, Each smiling charm of truth, Depends not on the giddy bud
Of wild fantastic youth.
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