No pedant, yet learned; not rake-helly gay,
Or laughing, because he has nothing to say;
To all my whole fex obliging and free,
Yet never be fond of any but me.
In publick preserve the decorum that's juft,
And fhew in his eyes he is true to his truft;
Then rarely approach, and refpectfully bow,
But not fulfomely pert, or foppishly low.
But when the long hours of publick are past,
And we meet with champagne and a chicken at last,
May ev'ry fond pleasure that moment endear;
Be banish'd afar both discretion and fear!
Forgetting or fcorning the airs of the crowd,
He may cease to be formal, and I to be proud,
Till loft in the joy, we confess that we live,
And he may be rude, and yet I may forgive.
And that my delight may be folidly fix'd,
Let the friend and the lover be handsomely mix'd,
In whose tender bofom my foul may confide,
Whose kindness can footh me, whofe counsel can guide.
From fuch a dear lover as here I describe,
No danger should fright me, no millions should bribe: But till this aftonishing creature I know,
As I long have liv'd chafte, I will keep myself fo.
I never will share with the wanton coquet,
Or be caught by a vain affectation of wit.
The toasters and songsters may try all their art,
But never shall enter the pass of my heart.
I loath the lewd rake, the dress'd fopling despise:
Before fuch pursuers the nice virgin flies:
And as OVID has sweetly in parables told,
We harden like trees, and like rivers
The LADY'S RESOLVE.
Written Extempore on a Window.
HILST thirft of praise, and vain defire of fame,
In ev'ry age, is ev'ry woman's aim;
With courtship pleas'd, of filly toasters proud,
Fond of a train, and happy in a crowd;
On each poor fool beftowing fome kind glance,
Each conqueft owing to fome loose advance;
While vain coquets affect to be purfu'd,
And think they're virtuous, if not grofsly lewd:
Let this great maxim be my virtue's guide;
fhe is to blame that has been try'd; He comes too near, that comes to be deny'd.
HILST pretty fellows think a woman's fame
In ev'ry state and ev'ry age the fame;
With their own folly pleas'd, the fair they toaft,
And where they least are happy, swear they're moft;
No difference making 'twixt coquet and prude;
And her that seems, yet is not really lewd;
While thus they think, and thus they vainly live,
And taste no joys but what their fancies give:
Let this great maxim be my action's guide,
May I ne'er hope, tho' I am ne'er deny'd;
Nor think a woman won, that's willing to be try'd.
An EPISTLE to Lord B---T.
OW happy you! who varied joys pursue;
And every hour prefents you fomething new!
Plans, fchemes, and models, all Palladio's art,
For fix long months have gain'd upon your heart;
Of colonades, of corridores you talk,
The winding stair-cafe, and the cover'd walk;
You blend the orders with Vitruvian toil,
And raise with wond'rous joy the fancy'd pile:
But the dull workman's flow performing hand
But coldly executes his lord's command,
With dirt and mortar foon you grow difpleas'd,
Planting fucceeds, and avenues are rais'd,
Canals are cut, and mountains level made;
Bowers of retreat, and galleries of shade;
The fhaven turf presents a lively green;
The bordering flow'rs in mystick knots are seen :
With ftudied art on nature you refine-
The fpring beheld you warm in this design,
But fcarce the cold attacks your fav'rite trees,
Your inclination fails, aud wishes freeze :
You quit the grove, fo lately you admir'd;
With other views your eager hopes are fir'd,
Poft to the city you direct your way;
Not blooming paradife could bribe your stay :
Ambition fhews you power's brightest fide,
'Tis meanly poor in folitude to hide :
Tho' certain pains attend the cares of ftate,
A good man owes his country to be great;
Should act abroad the high diftinguish'd part,
Or fhew at least the purpose of his heart.
With thoughts like these the shining courts you feek <;
Full of new projects for almost a week:
You then despise the tinfel glittering fnare;
Think vile mankind below a serious care;
Life is too fhort 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 paffion you address the fair;
Survey the opera as a gay parterre :
Young Cloe's bloom had made you certain prize,
But for a fide-long glance from Celia's eyes:
Your beating heart acknowledges her pow'r ;
Your
eager eyes her lovely form devour;
You feel the poison swelling in your breast,
And all your foul by fond defire poffefs'd.
In dying fighs a long three hours are past ;
To fome affembly with impatient haste,
With trembling hope, and doubtful fear you move,
Refolv'd to tempt your fate, and own your love :
But there Belinda meets you on the stairs,
Eafy her shape, attracting all her airs;
A fmile fhe gives, and with a smile can wound;
Her melting voice has mufick in the found;
Her ev'ry motion wears refiftless grace;
Wit in her mein, and pleasure in her face:
Here while you vow eternity of love,
Cloe and Celia unregarded move.
Thus on the fands of Afric's burning plains,
However deeply made, no long impress remains;
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