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OR absolutely vain is human praise,

When human is supported by divine.. I'll introduce LORENZO to himself; Pleasure and pride (bad masters ;) Share our licarts .. As love of pleasure is ordain'd to guard And feed our bodies and extend our race ; The love of praise is planted to protect, And propagate the glories of the mind.. What is it, but the love of praise, inspires, Matures, refines, embellishes,exalts, Earth's happiness? From that, the delicate, The grand, the marvellous ; of civil life, Want and convenience, under-workers, lay The basis, on which love of glory builds. Nor is thy life, O virtue ! less in debt To praise, thy secret stimulating friend. Were men not proud, what merits should we miss!' Pride made the virtues of the pagan world. Praise is the salt that seasons right to man, And whets his appetite for moral good. Thirst of applause is virtue's second guard ; Reason, her first; but reason wants an aid; Our private reason is a flatterer Thirst of applause calls public judgment in, To poise our own, to keep an even seale, And give endanger’d virtue fairer play.





After his CONDEMNATION for attempting a RAPE.


EAD, lovely nymph, and tremble not to read;

I have no more to wish, nor you to dread:
I ask not life,, for life to me were vain,
And death a refuge from severer pain..
My only hope in these last lines I try;
I would be pitied, and I then would die..

Long had I liv'd as fordid as my fate,
Nor curs’d the destiny that made me wait.

* This man was footman to a gentleman, whose daughter, a married lady, he attempted to ravith. It appears by his trial, that he went into her room about four o'clock in the morning, armed with a pistol in one hand, and a drawn fword in the other; and advance ing to the bedside, threatened to murder her if she made


noise. Upon asking him what he meant by coming into her chamber in such a manner, he replied that he intended to ravish her, for that he had entertained a violent love for her a long time, but as there was to great a difference between their fortunes, he despaired of enjoying his wishes by any means but force. After some resistance, the lady wrenched the pistol from his hand, (he having laid down the sword) and rung the bell; upon which he ran away. He was indicted and convicted of a burglary, at the Old Bailey, in December 1721, but the sentence was not executed, for he was reprieved and afterwards transported.

A servile

A servile slave : content with homely food,
The gross instinct of happiness pursu'd :
Youth gave me sleep at night, and warmth of blood.
Ambition yet had never touch'd my breast;
My lordly master knew no founder rest;
With labour healthy, in obedience bleft.
But when I saw-oh! had I never seen
That wounding softness, that engaging mein!
The mift of wretched education flies;
Shame, fear, defire, despair and love arise,
The new creation of those beauteous' eyes.
But yet that love purfu'd no guilty aim,
Deep in my heart I hid the fecret flame.
I never hop'd my fond defire to tell,
And all

wishes were to serve


Heav'ns ! how I flew, when wing'd by your command,
And kiss’d the letters giv’n me by your hand.
How pleas'd, how proud, how fond was I to wait,
Present the sparkling wine, or change the plate !
How, when you sung my soul devour'd the sound,
And ev'ry sense was in the rapture drown'd!
Tho' bid to go, I quite forgot to move;

- You knew not that stupidity was love?
But oh! the torment not to be express’d,
The grief, the rage, the hell that fir'd this breaff,
When my great rivals, in embroid'ry gay,
Sate by your fide, or led you from the play!
I still contriv'd near as I could to stand,
(The flambeau trembling in ny shaking hand)

I saw

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I saw, or thought I saw, those fingers press’d,
For thus their pasfion by my own I guess’d,
And jealous fury all my foul possess’d.
Like torrents, love and indignation meet,
And madness would have thrown me at your feet.

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Turn, lovely nymph (for so I would have faid)
Turn from thofe triflers who make love a trade;
This is true paffion in my eyes you fee ;
They cannot, no—they cannot love like me.
Frequent debauch has pall’d their fickly taste,
Faint their desire, and in a moment past :
They figh not from the heart, but from the brain;
Vapours of vanity, and strong champagne.
Too doll to feel what forms, like yours, inspire,
After long talking of their painted fire,
To fome lewd brothel they at night retire ;
There pleas'd with fancy'd quality and charms,
Enjoy your beauties in a strumpet's arms.
Such are the joys those toasters have in view,
And such the wit and pleasure they pursue :
-And is this love that ought to merit you?
Each opera-night a new address begun,
They swear to thousands what they swear to one.
Not thus I figh-but all my fighs are vain-
Die, wretched Arthur, and conceal thy pain :
'Tis impudence to wish, and madness to complain.


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Fix'd on this view, my only hope of ease,
I waited not the aid of flow disease :
The keeneft inftruments of death I sought,
And death alone employ’d my lab’ring thought.
This all the night-when I remember well,
The charming tinkle of your morning bell?
Fir’d by the found, I haften'd' with your tea,
With one last look to smooth the darksome way.-
But oh ! how dear that fatal look has coft!
In that fond moment my resolves were loft.
Hence all my guilt, and all your sorrows rise-
I saw the languid softness of your eyes ;
I saw the dear disorder of your bed;
Your cheeks all glowing with a tempting red';:
Your night-cloaths tumbled with refiftlefs grace";:
Your flowing hair play'd careless down your face;
Your night-gown fäften.d with a single pin:;
-Fancy improv'd the wond'rous charms within !!
I fix'd my eyes upon that heaving breast,
And hardly, hardly I' forbore the rest ;,
Eager to gaze, unsatisfy'd with fight;
My head grew giddy with the near delight!
-Too well you know the fatal following night!
Th’extremest proof of my desire I give,.
And since you will not love, I will not live.
Condemn’d by you, I wait the righteous doom, ;,
Careless and fearless of the woes to come.
But when


see me waver in the wind, My guilty fiame extinct, my soul resign'd,


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