THE PERJURED MISTRESS.

From Horace, Epod. xv. ad Neæram.

WAS night, and heaven intent with all its

'TW

Gaz'd on the dear deceitful maid;

A thousand pretty things she said,

A thousand artful tricks fhe play'd,

From me, deluded me, her falsehood to disguise.

She clafp'd me in her foft encircling arms,
She prefs'd her glowing cheek to mine,
The clinging ivy, or the curling vine,
Did never yet so closely twine;

[eyes

Who could be man and bear the luftre of her charms

And thus the swore: by all the powers above,

When winter ftorms fhall cease to roar,

When fummer funs fhall fhine no more,
When wolves their cruelty give o'er,
Neæra then, and not till then, fhall ceafe to love.

Ah! falfe Neæra! perjur'd fair! but know,
I have a foul too great to bear
A rival's proud insulting air,
Another may be found as fair,

As fair, ungrateful nymph! and far more just than you.

Shouldft thou repent, and at my feet be laid,

Dejected, penitent, forlorn,

And all thy former follies mourn,

Thy proffer'd paffion I would fcorn:

The Gods fhall do me right on that devoted head.

And

And you, fpruce fir, who infölently gay,
Exulting, laugh at my disgrace,
Boast with vain airs, and stiff grimace,

Your large eftate, your handsome face,
Proud of a fleeting blifs, the pageant of a day:

You too fhall foon repent this haughty scorn;
When, fickle as the fea or wind,

The proftitute fhall change her mind,

To fuch another coxcomb kind;

Then shall I clap my wings, and triumph in my turn.

To a YOUNG LADY, who spent the Night in Tears, upon a Report that her Brother was to fight a Duel the next Morning.

ASTORA weeps, let every

lover mourn,

Her grief is no less fatal than her fcorn: Thofe fhining orbs inflict an equal pain,` O'erflown with tears, or pointed with disdain. When doubts and fears invade that tender breaft, Where peace, and joy, and love should ever reft; As flowers depriv'd of the fun's genial ray, Earthward we bend, and filently decay;

In fpight of all philofophy can do,

Our hearts relent, the bursting torrents flow,
We feel her pains, and propagate her woe.
Each mournful Mufe laments the weeping fair,
The Graces all their comely treffes tear,

Love drags his wings, and droops his little head,
And Venus mourns as for Adonis dead.

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}

Patience,

Patience, dear maid, nor without cause complain, O lavish not those precious drops in vain : Under the shield of your prevailing charms, Your happy brother lives fecure from harms, Your bright refemblance all my rage disarms. Your influence unable to withstand,

The conscious steel drops from my trembling hand;.
Low at your feet the guilty weapon lies,

The foe repents, and the fond lover dies.
Æneas thus by men and Gods pursued,

Feeble with wounds, defil'd with duft and blood,
Beauty's bright Goddess interpos'd her charms,
And fav'd the hopes of Troy from Grecian arms.

To Dr. M

reading Mathematicks.

VAIN our purfuits of knowledge, vain our care;

The soft and labour we may justly spare.

Death from this coarfe alloy refines the mind,
Leaves us at large t' expatiate unconfin'd;
All fcience opens to our wondering eyes,
And the good man is in a moment wife.

FROM MARTIAL. EPIG. xlvii.

W

OULD you, my friend, find out the true receipt,
To live at eafe, and ftem the tide of fate;

The grand elixir thus you must infuse,

And these ingredients to be happy chufe:

First an eftate, not got with toil and fweat,
But unincumber'd left, and free from debt:
For let that be your dull forefather's care,
To pinch and drudge for his deferving heir;
Fruitful and rich, in land that's found and good,
That fills your barns with corn, your hearth with wood;
That cold nor hunger may your house infest,
While flames invade the skies, and pudding crowns the
A quiet mind, ferene, and free from care, [feaft,
Nor puzzling on the bench, nor noify at the bar;
A body found, that phyfick cannot mend;
And the best physick of the mind, a friend,
Equal in birth, in humour, and in place,
Thy other felf, distinguish'd but by face;
Whose sympathetic foul takes equal share
Of all thy pleasure, and of all thy care.
A modeft board, adorn'd with men of fenfe,
No French ragouts, nor French impertinence.
A merry bottle to engender wit,

Not over-dos'd, but quantum fufficit:
Equal the error is in each excefs,

Nor dulnefs lefs a fin, than drunkennefs.
A tender wife diffolving by thy fide,
Easy and chaste, free from debate and pride,
Each day a mistress, and each night a bride.
Sleep undisturb'd, and at the dawn of day,
The merry horn, that chides thy tedious stay;
A horfe that 's clean, fure-footed, fwift, and found,
And dogs that make the echoing clifts refound;
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!

That

That fweep the dewy plains, out-fly the wind,
And leave domeftic forrows far behind.

Pleas'd with thy present lot, nor grudging at the paft, Not fearing when thy time shall come, nor hoping for thy last.

To a GENTLEMAN, who married his Caft Mistress.

D.

From HORACE, Book III. Ode ix.

WHILE I was yours, and yours alone,

Proud, and transported with your charms,

I envy'd not the Perfian throne,

But reign'd more glorious in your arms.

B. While you were true, nor Suky fair

Had chac'd poor Bruny from your breast;
Not Ilia could with ine compare,
So fam'd, or fo divinely bleft.

D. In Suky's arms entranc'd I lie,

So fweetly fings the warbling fair!
For whom moft willingly I'd die,
Would Fate the gentle Syren fpare,

B. Me Billy burns with mutual fire,

For whom I'd die, in whom I live,
For whom each moment I'd expire,
Might he, my better part, furvive.

D. Should I once more my heart refign,
Would you the penitent receive?

Would