He dies, fad outcast of each church and state,
And harder still! flagitious, yet not great.
Afk you why Wharton broke thro' ev'ry rule?
'Twas all for fear the Knaves fhould call him fool.
Nature well known, no prodigies remain,
Comets are regular, and Wharton plain.

Yet, in this fearch, the wifeft may mistake,
If second qualities for first they take.
When Cataline by rapine fwell'd his store;
When Cæfar made a noble dame a whore;

In this the Luft, in that the Avarice

205

210

Were means, not ends; Ambition was the vice. 215
That very Cæfar born in Scipio's days,
Had aim'd like him, by Chastity at praise.
Lucullus, when Frugality could charın,
Had roafted turnips in the Sabine farm.

In vain th' obferver eyes the builder's toil,
But quite mistakes the fcaffold for the pile.

In this one paffion man can strength enjoy,
As Fits give vigor, juft when they destroy.
Time, that on all things lays his lenient hand,
Yet tames not this; it sticks to our last fand.
Confiftent in our follies and our fins,
Here honest Nature ends as fhe begins.

Old Politicians chew on wisdom past,
And totter on in bus'nefs to the last;

In the former Editions, ver, 208.

Nature well known no Miracles remain.

220

225

VER. 213. A noble Dame a whore;] The fifter of Cato, and mother of Brutus.

As weak, as earneft; and as gravely out,
As fober Lanesb'row dancing in the gout.
Behold a rev'rend fire, whom want of grace

Has made the father of a nameless race,

230

Shov'd from the wall perhaps, or rudely press'd
By his own fon, that paffes, by unblefs'd:
Still to his wench he crawls on knocking knees,
And envies ev'ry fparrow that he fees.

235

A falmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate; The doctor call'd, declares all help too late: "Mercy! cries Helluo, mercy on my foul! "Is there no hope?-Alas!-then bring the jowl. The frugal Crone, whom praying Priests attend, Still strives to fave the hallow'd taper's end, Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires,

For one puff more, and in that Puff expires.

240

245

"Odious! in woollen! 'twould a Saint provoke, (Were the laft words that poor Narciffa spoke)

VER. 231. Lanesb'row] An ancient Nobleman, who continued this practice long after his legs were difabled by the gout. Upon the death of Prince George of Denmark, he demanded a!ı andience of the Queen, to advise her to preferve her health and difpel her grief by Dancing.

VER. 242. The frugal Crone,] A fact told him of a Lady at Paris.

VER. 247. The laff words that poor Narcissi spoke] This ftory as well as the others, is founded on fact, though the author did not mention the names. ticular to a very celebrated Actress, thought of being buried in woollen, with her dying breath.

Several attribute this in parwho, in deteftation of the gave thefe her last orders

"No, let a charming Chintz, and Bruffels lace

"Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face: "One would not, fure, be frightful when one's dead--"And-- Betty-give this Cheek a little Red." 251 The Courtier smooth, who forty years had fhin'd An humble fervant to all human kind,

Juft brought out this, when scarce his tougue could ftir, "If where I'm going-I could ferve you, Sir?" 255 "I give and I devife (old Euclio faid,

And figh'd) "my lands and tenements to Ned."
Your money, Sir?""My money, Sir, what all?
"Why,-If I muft-(then wept) I give it Paul." 260
The Manor, Sir?- -"The Manor! hold, he cry'd,
Not that, I cannot part with that"-and dy'd.
And you! brave COBHAM, to the latest breath
Shall feel your ruling paflion ftrong in death:
Such in thofe moments as in all the past,

264

"Oh, fave my Country, Heav'n!" fhall be your laft.

[88]

MORAL ESSAYS.

EPISTLE II.

то

A LAD Y.

Of the Characters of Women.

TOTHING so true as what you once let fall,

NOTHIN

"Moft Women have no Characters at all."

Matter too soft a lasting mark to bear,

And beft distinguish'd by black, brown, or fair.

How many Pictures of one Nymph we view,
All how unlike each other, all how true!
Arcadia's Countefs, here in ermin'd pride,
Is there, Paftora by a fountain side.
Here Fannia leering on her own good man,
And there, a naked Leda with a Swan.
Let then the fair one beautifully cry,
In Magdalen's loofe hair and lifted eye,
Or drest in smiles of fweet Cecilia shine,
With fimp'ring Angels, Palms, and Harps divine;
Whether the Charmer finner it, or faint it,

If Folly grow romantic, I must paint it.

5

10

15

Nr. Frankendaal jõulps.

In Men, we various ruling Passions find, In Woman, two almost devide the kind: Those only fixed, they first or last obey,. The love of "Pleasure, and the love of Sway.

Char, of Women.