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HEN Celia, Love's eternal foe,
To rich old Gomez first was marry'd;
And angry Cupid came to know,
His shafts had err'd, his bow miscarry'd; He figh'd, he wept, he hung his head,
On the cold ground, full fad, he laid him; When Plutus, there by fortune led,
In this defponding plight survey'd him. And fure, he cry'd, you 'll own at last Your boafted power by mine exceeded:
Say, wretched boy, now all is past,
How little the your efforts heeded.
If with fuccefs you would affail,
Gild, Youngfter, doubly gild your arrows: Little the feather'd shafts avail,
Though wing'd from Mamma's doves and spar
What though each reed, each arrow grew, Where Venus bath'd herself; depend on 't, 'Twere more for ufe, for beauty too,
A diamond sparkled at the end on 't. Peace, Plutus, peace!-the boy reply'd; Were not my arts by your's infefted,
I could each other power deride,
And rule this circle, unmolested.
See yonder pair! no worldly views
In Chloe's generous breaft refided : Love bade her the fpruce valet chufe,
And the by potent love was guided. For this fhe quits her golden dreams,
In her gilt coach no more the ranges: And her rich crimson, bright with gems,
For cheeks impearl'd with tears, the changes.
You gain'd this nymph-that very hour
EPILOGUE to the Tragedy of CLEONE:
WELL, ladies-fo much for the tragic ftile
And now the cuftom is to make you smile.
To make us fmile methinks I hear you fay-
Such is the language of each modish fair; Yet memoirs, not of modern growth, declare The time has been when modefty and truth Were deem'd additions to the charms of youth : When women hid their necks, and vcil'd their faces, Nor romp'd, nor rak'd, nor star'd at public places, Nor took the airs of Amazons for graces: Then plain domestic virtues were the mode, And wives ne'er dreamt of happiness abroad They lov'd their children, learnt no flaunting airs, But with the joys of wedlock mixt the cares. Those times are past-yet fure they merit praife, For marriage triumph'd in thofe golden days : By chafte decorum they affection gain'd; By faith and fondnefs what they won, maintain'd.
'Tis yours, ye fair, to bring those days again,
That fcorns the prefs, the pulpit, and the stage.
MORAL PIECE S.
The JUDGMENT of HERCULES.
WHILE blooming fpring defcends from genial skies,
By whofe mild influence inftant wonders rife ;
From whofe foft breath Elyfian beauties flow;
'Tis thus, the fpring of youth, the morn of life,
The world their favourite, and the world their friend.
There are, who, blind to thought's fatiguing ray,
Thoughtless, the finners or the faints of chance!
Prais'd by that bard whom every Mufe inspires:
'Twas youth's perplexing stage his doubts infpir'd, When great Alcides to a grove retir’d.
Through the lone windings of a devious glade, Refign'd to thought, with lingering steps he ftray'd; Bleft with a mind to tafte fincerer joys:
Arm'd with a heart each falfe one to despise,
Dubious he stray'd, with wavering thoughts poffeft, Alternate paffions ftruggling fhar'd his breaft;