No faffron robe for us the godhead wears,
His torch inverted, and his face in tears.

Though ev'ry fofter wish were amply crown'd,

Love foon wou'd ceafe to fmile where Fortune frown'd;
Then wou'd thy foul my fond confent deplore,

And blame what it follicited before;

Thy own exhausted would reproach my truth,
And fay I had undone thy blinded youth;
That I had damp'd Ambition's nobler flame,
Eclips'd thy talents, and obfcur'd thy fame;
To madrigal and odes that wit confin'd,
That wou'd in fenates or in courts have fhin'd,
Gloriously active in thy country's cause,
Afferting freedom, and enacting laws.

Or fay, at best, that negatively kind
You only mourn'd, and filently repin'd;
The jealous dæmons in my own fond breast
Wou'd all these thoughts inceffantly fuggeft,

And all that fenfe muft feel, tho' pity had fuppreft.
Yet added grief my apprehenfion fills

(If there can be addition to those ills)

When they shall cry, whose harsh reproof I dread,
" "Twas thy own deed, thy folly on thy head!
Age knows not to allow for thoughtless youth,
Nor pities tenderness, nor honours truth;
Holds it romantic to confess a heart,
And fay thofe virgins act a wiser part

}

Who hospitals and bedlams wou'd explore
To find the rich, and only dread the poor;
Who legal prostitutes, for int'reft fake,
Clodios and Timons to their bofoms take,
And, if avenging heav'n permit increase,
People the world with folly and disease.
Thofe, titles, deeds, and rent-rolls only wed,
Whilft the best bidder mounts the venal bed,
And the grave aunt and formal fire approve
This nuptial fale, this auction of their love.
But if regard to worth or sense be shown,
That poor degenerate child her friends difown,
Who dares to deviate by a virtuous choice
From her great name's hereditary vice.

These scenes my prudence ushers to my mind,
Of all the ftorms and quickfands I must find,
If I embark upon this fummer sea,

Where Flatt'ry smooths, and Pleasure gilds the way,
Had our ill fate ne'er blown thy dang❜rous flame
Beyond the limits of a friend's cold name,

I might upon that score thy heart receive,
And with that guiltless name my own deceive;
That commerce now in vain you recommend,
I dread the latent lover in the friend;

Of ignorance i want the poor excufe,
And know, I both muft take, or both refuse.
Hear then the fafe, the firin refolve I make,
Ne'er to encourage one I must forfake.

Whilst other maids a fhameless path purfue,
Neither to int'reft, nor to honour true,

And proud to fwell the triumph of their eyes,
Exult in love from lovers they despise;
Their maxims all revers'd I mean to prove,
And though I like the lover, quit the love.

*{*}*{*}*(*)*<*>*<*}*<*}*<*}*

EPISTLES in the Manner of OVID.

ΜΟΝΙΜΙΑ to PHILOCLES:

By the Same.

INCE language never can describe my pain,

SINC

How can I hope to move when I complain?

But fuch is woman's frenzy in distress,

We love to plead, tho' hopeless of redress.

Perhaps, affecting ignorance, thou'lt fay,
From whence these lines? whofe meffage to convey
Mock not my grief with that feign'd cold demand,
Too well you know the hapless writer's hand:
But if you force me to avow my fhame,
Behold it prefac'd with Monimia's name.
Loft to the world, abandon'd and forlorn,
Expos'd to infamy, reproach, and fcorn,

To

To mirth and comfort loft, and all for

you,
Yet loft, perhaps, to your remembrance too,
How hard my lot! what refuge can I try,
Weary of life, and yet afraid to die!
Of hope, the wretch's laft refort, bereft,
By friends, by kindred, by my lover, left.
Oh! frail dependence of confiding fools!
On lovers oaths, or friendship's facred rules
How weak in modern hearts, too late I find,
Monimia's faln, and Philocles unkind!
To these reflections, each flow wearing day,
And each revolving night a conftant prey,
Think what I fuffer, nor ungentle hear
What madness dictates in my fond despair;
Grudge not this short relief, (too fast it flies)
Nor chide that weakness I myself defpife.
One moment fure may be at least her due,
Who facrific'd her all of life for you.
Without a frown this farewel then receive,
For, 'tis the last my hapless love shall give;
Nor this I wou'd, if reafon cou'd command,
But what reftriction reins a lover's hand?

Nor prudence, fhame, nor pride, nor int'reft fways,
The hand implicitly the heart obeys:

Too well this maxim has my conduct shewn,
Too well that conduct to the world is known.
Oft have I writ, and often to the flame
Condemn'd this after-witnefs of my shame;

Oft

Oft in my cooler recollected thought,

Thy beauties, and my fondness half forgot,
(How fhort thofe intervals for reafon's aid!)
Thus to myself in anguish have I said.

Thy vain remonftrance, foolish maid, give o’er,
Who act the wrong, can ne'er that wrong deplore.
Then fanguine hopes again delufive reign,
I form'd thee melting, as I tell my pain.
If not of rock thy flinty heart is made,
Nor tygers nurs'd thee in the defart shade,
Let me at least thy cold compassion prove,
That flender fuftenance of greedy love:
Tho' no return my warmer wishes find,

Be to the wretch, tho' not the mistress, kind;
Nor whilft I court my melancholy ftate,

Forget 'twas love, and thee, that wrought my fate.
Without reftraint habituate to range

The paths of pleafure; can I bear this change?
Doom'd from the world unwilling to retire,
In bloom of life, and warm with young defire,
In lieu of roofs with regal fplendor gay,
Condemn'd in distant wilds to drag the day;
Where beafts of prey maintain their favage court,
Or human brutes (the worst of brutes) resort.
Yes, yes, the change I cou'd unfighing fee,
For none I mourn, but what I find in thee,
There center all my woes, thy heart eftrang'd,
I weep my lover, not my fortune, chang'd;

Blefs'd