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Should act abroad the high distinguish'd part,
Or shew at least the purpose of his heart.
With thoughts like these the shining courts you seek;
Full of new projects for almost a week :
You then despise the tinsel glittering fnare ;
Think vile mankind below a serious care.
Life is too short for any distant aim;
And cold the dull reward of future fame :
Be happy then while yet you have to live;
And love is all the blessing heav'n can give.
Fir'd by new pasfion you address the fair ;
Survey the opera as a gay parterre :
Young Cloe's bloom had made you certain prize,
But for a side-long glance from Celia's eyes :
Your beating heart acknowledges her power ;
Your eager eyes her lovely form devour ;
You feel the poison swelling in your breast,
And all your soul by fond desire possess’d.
In dying sighs a long three hours are past;
To some assembly with impatient haste,
With trembling hope, and doubtful fear you move,
Resolv'd to tempt your fate, and own your love :
But there Belinda meets you on the stairs,
Easy her shape, attracting all her airs ;
Vol. I.

I .

A smile

A smile she gives, and with a smile can wound; - Her melting voice has music in the found;

Her every motion wears resistless grace ;
Wit in her mien, and pleasure in her face :
Here while you vow eternity of love,
Cloe and Celia unregarded move.

Thus on the sands of Afric’s burning plains,
However deeply made, no long impress remains ;
The lightest leaf can leave its figure there ;
The strongest form is scatter'd by the air.
So yielding the warm temper of your mind,
So touch'd by every eye, fo tofs’d by wind;
Oh! how unlike the heav'n my soul design'd!
Unseen, unheard, the throng around me move ;
Not wishing praise, insensible of love:
No whispers foften, nor no beauties fire;
Careless I see the dance, and coldly hear the lyre.

So num'rous herds are driven o'er the rock ;
No print is left of all the passing flock:
So sings the wind around the solid stone:
So yainly beat the waves with fruitless moan.
Tedious the toil, and great the workman's care,
Who dare attempt to fix impressions there :

But

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But should some swain, more skilful than the rest,
Engrave his name upon this marble breast,
Not rolling ages could deface that name;
Through all the storms of life 'tis still the same:
Tho' length of years with moss may shade the ground,
Deep, tho' unseen, remains the secret wound.

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..T. MARY, Queen of SCOTS.

Designed to be spoken by Mrs. OLDFIELD.'

By the Same.

W H AT could luxurious woman with for more,

W To fix her joys, or to extend her pow'r ?
Their every wish was in this Mary seen,
Gay, witty, youthful, beauteous, and a queen.
Vain useless blessings with ill conduct join'd!
Light as the air, and fleeting as the wind.
Whatever poets write, and lovers vow,
Beauty, what poor omnipotence hast thou !

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Queen

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Queen Bess had wisdom, council, power, and laws;
How few espous’d a wretched beauty's cause!
Learn thence, ye fair, more solid charms to prize,
Contemn the idle fatt'rers of your eyes. -
The brightest object shines but while 'tis new;
That influence lessens by familiar view.
Monarchs and beauties rule with equal sway,
All strive to serve, and glory to obey;
Alike unpitied when depos’d they grow-
Men mock the idol of their former vow.

Two great examples have been shown to-day,
To what sure ruin passion does betray ;
What long repentance to short joys is due;
When reason rules, what glory does ensue,

If you will love, love like Eliza then ;
Love for amusement, like those traitors men.
Think that the pastime of a leisure hour
She favour'd oft—but never shar'd her pow'r,

The traveller by desart wolves pursu'd,
If by his art the savage foe's subdu'd,
The world will still the noble act applaud,
Though victory was gain’d by needful fraud.

Such is, my tender sex, our helpless case ;
And such the barbarous heart, hid by the begging face.

By

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By passion fir’d, and not with-held by shame,
They cruel hunters are; we, trembling game.
Trust me, dear ladies, (for I know 'em well).
They burn to triumph, and they sigh to tell :
Cruel to them that yield, cullies to them that sell.
Believe me, 'tis by far the wiser course,
Superior art should meet fuperior force :
Hear, but be faithful to your interest still :
Secure your hearts—then fool with whom you will.

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W H Y will Delia thus retire,

W And idly languish life away?
While the sighing crowd admire,
'Tis too soon for hartshorn tea." -

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II. All

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