TO THE SAME, ON HER LEAVING THE TOWN

AFTER THE CORONATION, 1715.

AS some fond virgin, whom her mother's care
Drags from the town to wholesome country air,
Just when she learns to roll a melting eye,
And hear a spark, yet think no danger nigh';
From the dear man unwilling she must sever,

5
Yet takes one kiss before she parts for ever.
Thus from the world fair Zephalinda flew,
Saw others happy, and with sighs withdrew;
Not that their pleasures caus'd her discontent;
She sigh'd not that they stay'd, but that she went. 10

She went to plain work, and to purling brooks, Old-fashion'd halls, dull aunts, and croaking rooks : She went from opera, park, assembly, play, To morning walks, and pray’rs three hours a-day; To part her time 'twixt reading and bohea, 15 To muse, and spill her solitary tea, Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon, Count the slow clock, and dine exact at noon ; Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire, Hum half a tune, tell stories to the squire: 20

Up to her godly garret after sev'n,
There starve and pray, for that's the way to heav'n.

Some squire, perhaps, you take delight to rack, Whose game is Whist, whose treat a toast in sack; Who visits with a gun, presents you birds, 25 Then gives a smacking buss, and cries--no words! Or with his hounds come hallowing from the stable, Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table; Whose laughs are hearty, tho' his jests are coarse, And loves you best of all things

but his horse. 30 • In some fair ev’ning, on your elbow laid, You dream of triumphs in the rural shade; In pensive thought recall the fancy'd scene, See coronations rise on ev'ry green : Before you pass th' imaginary sights

35 Of lords, and earls, and dukes, and garter'd knights ; While the spread fan o'ershades your closing eyes, Then give one flirt, and all the vision flies. Thus vanish sceptres, coronets and balls, And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls ! 40

So when your slave, at some dear idle time, [Not plagu'd with headachs or the want of rhyme,] Stands in the streets abstracted from the crew, And while he seems to study, thinks of you ; Just when his fancy points your sprightly eyes,

45 Or sees the blush of soft Parthenia rise,

Gay pats my shoulder, and you vanish quite,
Streets, chairs, and coxcombs, rush upon my sight:
Vext to be still in Town I knit my brow,
Look sour, and hum a tune, as you may now.

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M 2

EPISTLE VI.

TO MR. JOHN MOORE, AUTHOR OF THE CELE

BRATED WORM-POWDER.

HOW much, egregious Moore! are we
Deceiv'd by shews and forms!
Whate'er we think, whate'er we see,
All humankind are worms.

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Man is a very worm by birth,
Vile reptile, weak, and vain !
A while he crawls upon the earth,
Then shrinks to earth again.

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That woman is a worm we find,
E’er since our grandam's evil ;
She first convers’d with her own kind,
That ancient worm the devil.

The learn’d themselves we Book-worms name,
The blockhead is a Slow-worm ;
The nymph whose tail is all on flame,
Is aptly term’d a Glow-worm.

15

The fops are painted butterflies
That flutter for a day;
First from a worm they take their rise,
And in a worm decay.

· 20

The flatterer an ear-wig grows;
Thus worms suit all conditions ;
Misers are muck-worms, silk-worms beaus,
And death-watches physicians.

25

That statesmen have the worm, is seen
By all their winding play ;
Their conscience is a worm within,
That gnaws them night and day.

30

Ah, Moore! thy skill were well employ'd,
And greater gain would rise,
If thou couldst make the courtier void
The worm that never dies !

O learned friend of Abchurch-lane,
Who sett’st our entrails free ;
Vain thy art, thy powder vain,
Since worms shall eat ev’n thee.

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