Imatges de pÓgina
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As men of breeding, sometimes men of wit, A vile conceit, in pompous words expreft,
T'avoid great errors, muft the less commit; Is like a clown in regal purple drest :
Neglect the rules each verbal Critic lays, For diff'rent styles with diff'rent subjects fort,
For not to know some trifles is a prailé. As !ev'ral garbs with country, town, and court.
Most Critics, fond of some subservient art, Some, by old words, to fame have made pretence;
Still make the Whole depend upon a Part : Ancients in phrase, mere moderns in their sense :
They talk of principles, but notions prize; Such labour'd nothings, in so strange a style,
And all to one lov'd folly sacrifice.

Amaze th' unlearn'd, and make the learned smile.
Once on a time, La Mancha's Knight, they say, Unlucky as Fungoso in the play,
A certain Bard encount'ring on the way, These sparks, with awkward vanity, display
Discours'd in terms as juft, with looks as sage, What the fine gentleman wore yesterday;
As e'er could Dennis, of the Grecian stage; And but so mimic ancient wits at best,
Concluding all were desp'rate fots and fools As apes our grandfires, in their doubles drest.
Who dust depart from Aristotle's rules.

In words, as fashions, the same rule will hold; Our Author, happy in a judge so nice,

Alike fantastic, it too new or old. Produc'd his play, and begg'd the Knight's advice; Be net the first by whom the new are tried, Made him observe the subject and the plot, Nor yet the last io lay the old aside. The manners, pallions, unities; what not? But most by numbers judge a poet's fong;

Ill which, exa to rule, were brought about, And simooth or rough with them is right or wrong: Were but a Combat in the lifts let out.

In the bright Mute tho' thousand charms conspire, " What! leave the Combat out ' exclaims the Her voice is all these tuneful fools admire ; Knight;

Who haunt Parnafsus but to please their ear, Yes, or we must renounce the Stagyrite. Not mend their minds; as fome to church repair “ Not so, by heaven!” he answers in a rage ; Not for the doctrine, but the music there. “ Knights, 'squires, and steeds, must enter on the Tucte equal fyllables alone require, • stage.”

Tho' oft the ear the open vowels tire ; So vast a throng the stage can ne'er contain. While expletives their feeble aid do join, " Then build a new, or act it in a plain." And ten low words oft creep in one dull line :

Thus Critics of less judgment than caprice, While they ring round the same unvaried chimes, Curious, not knowing; not exact, but nice, With sure returns of still expected rhymes ; Form Mort ideas; and offend in arts

Where'er you find the cooling western breeze," (As most in manners) by a love to parts. In the next line, “it whispers thro' the trees :"

Some to Conceit alone their taste confinc, If cryftal streams “with pleasing murmurs creep," And glitt'ring thoughts ftruck out at ev'ry line; Theieader's threaten'd (not in vain) with“sleep." Pleas'd with a work where nothing 's just or fit; Then, at the last and only couplet fraught One glaring Chaos and wild heap of wit. With some unmeaning thing they call a thought, Poets, like painters, thus, unskill'd to trace A necdless Alexandrine ends the song, (along. The naked nature and the living grace, That, like a wounded snake, drags its slow length With gold and jewels cover ev'ry part, Leave such to tune their own dull rhymes, and And hide with ornaments their want of art.

know True wit is Nature to advantage drets’d ; What's roundly smooth, or languishingly flow; What oft was thought, but ne'er fowellexprels'd; And praile the caly vigour of a line Something, whose truth convinc'd at fight we lind, Where Denham's ftrength and Waller's sweetness That gives us back the inage of our mind.

join. As fades more livectly recoinmend the light, True caie in writing comes from art, not chance; So modeft plainness fets off sprightly wit. As those move easiest who have learn'd to dance. For works may have more wit than does 'ein good, 'Tis not enough no harshness gives offence As bodies perith thro' excess of blood.

The fund must seem an echo to the sense : Others for language all their care express, Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows, And value books, as women men, for drets : And the liooth stream in smoother numbers flows: Their praise is still --The Style is excellenti Rut when loud furges lalli the founding lhore, The Sense they humbly take upon content. The hoarse, rough verse Thould like the torrent Words are like leaves; and, where they most abound,

When Ajax strives some rock's vastweight to throw, Much fruit of sense beneath is rarely found. The line too labours, and the words move flow : False eloquence, like the prismatic glass, Not so, when swift Camilla scours the plain, Its gaudy colours spreads on ev'ry place ; Flies o'er th' unbending corn, and skims along the The face of Nature we #ò more survey ;

main. All glares alike, without distinction gay : Hear how Timotheus' varied lays surprise, But true Exprellion, like th'unchanging Sun, And bid alternate paflions fall and rite ! Clears and improves whate'er it thines upon ; While, at each change, the son of Libyan Jove It gilds all objects, but it alters none.

Now burns with glory, and then melts with love: Expreflion is the dress of thought, and still Now his fierce eyes with sparkling fury glow, Appears more decent as more suitable; Now lighs ftual ont, and tears begin to fiow:.

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Persians and Greeks like turns of nature found, Scotists and Thomists now in peace remain
And the world's victor stood subdued by found amidst their kindred cobwebs in Duck-lane.
The pow'r of music all our hearts allow; If faith itself has diff'rent dresses worn,
And what Timotheus was, is Dryden now, What wonder modes in wit should take their turn!

Avoid extremes, and thun the fault of such Oft, leaving what is natural and fit,
Who still are pleas'd too little or tuo inuch. The current folly proves the ready wit;
Arev'ry triflc fcorn to take offence;

dud authors think the reputation safe,
That always thews great pride, or little fenfe : Which lives as long as fools are pleas'd to laugh.
Thoc heads, as stomaclis, are not sure the best, Some valuing those of their own fide or mind,
Which nauseate all, and nothing can digest. Still make themselves the measure of mankind !
Yo let not each gay turn thy rapture move; Fondly we think we honour merit then,
For fools admire, but men of lente approve : When we but praise ourselves in other men.
As things seem large which we thro'milts descry; Parties in wit attend on those of state,
Dulness is ever apt to mag.ify.

And public faction doubles private hate.
Some foreign writers, some our own, despise; Pride, malice, tolly, against Dryden rose,
The ancients only, or the moderns, prize. In various shapes of. parsons, critics, beaux :
Thus wit, like faith, by each man is applied But sense surviv'd when merry jests were part,
To one imall fict, and all are damn'd befide. For riting merit will buoy up at last.
Nleanly they seck the blessing to confine, Might he return, and bless once more our eyes,
And force that tiin but on a part to thine, New Blackmores and new Milbourns must arise:
Which not alone the southern wit sublimes, Nay, should grcat Homer lift his awful head,
But ripens fpirits in cold northern climes; Zoilus again would fiart up from the dead.
Which froin the first has thone on ages past, Envy wil mcrit, as its shade, pursue;
Enlights the present, and thall warm the last; But, like a thadow, proves the substance true :
Tho' each may feel increases and decays, For envicd wit, like Sol cclips'd, makes known
And sec now clearer and now darker days. Th’oppoling body's grossness, not its own.
Regard not then if wit be old or new,

When first that fun too pow'rful beams displays, But blame the false, and value still the true. It draws up vapours which obfcure its rays;

Some ne'er advance a judgınent of their own, But ev'n those clouds at last adorn its way, Rut catch the spreading notion of the town; Rcficet now glories, and augment the day. They reaton and conclude by prccedent,

Be thou the first true mcrit to befriend; And own stale noniense which they ne'er invent. His praise is lost who stays till all commend. Some judge of authors' names, not works; and then Short is the date, alas ! of modern rhymes, Nor praise nor blame the writings, but the men. And 'ris but just to let them live betimes. Of all this servile herd, the worlt is he

No longer now that golden age appears, That in proud dulness joins with quality : When patriarch wits furviv'd a thousand years : A constant critic at the great man's board, Now length of fainc (our second lifc) is loft, To fetch and carry noniense for

And bare threescore is all e'en that can boast; What wocful stuff this madrigal would be, Our fons their fathers' failing language sce, In some ftaru'd hackucy fonnetteer, or me! And such as Chaucer is thall Dryden be. But let a lord once ow: the happy lines, So when the faithful pencil has design'd Fiow the wit brightens ! how the ityle refines ! Some bright idea of the master's inind, Before his sacred name flies ev'ry fault, Where a new world leaps out at his command, And cach exalted stanza teems with thought! . And ready Nature waits upon his hand ; The vulgar thus thro' imitation err;

When the ripe colours soften and unite, As oft the Icarn 'd by being singular :

And sweetly melt into just made and light; So much they scorn the crowd, that if the throng When mullowing years their full perfection give, By chance go right, they purposely go wrong: And cach bold figure just begins to live; So kchilinatics the plain believers quit,

The treach rous colours the fair art betray, And are but damn’d for having too much wit. And all the brighit creation fades away! Sume praise at imorning what they blame at night; Uniappy wit, like most mistaken things, But always think the list opinion right. Atoncs noi for that envy which ic brings. A Muse by these is like a mistress us'd; In youth alone its empty praise we boat; This hour The 's idoliz'd, the next abus'd ; But soon the short-liy'd vanity is loft : While their weak heads, like towns unfortified, Like fome fair flow'r the early spring supplies, 'Twixt sense and nonfenfe daily change their side. That gaily blooms, but ev’n in blooming dics. Ask them the cause; they're wiser still, they say: What is this wit, which must our cares employ? And still to-morrow's wiser than to-day. The owner's wife, that other min enjoy : We think our fathers fools, so wise we grow; Chen most our trouble still when most admir'd, Qur wifer sons, no doubt, will think us fo. And fill the inore we give, the more requir'd; Once school-divines this zealous ille o'erspread; I W'hose fame with pains we guard, but lose with Who knew moft sentences was deepest read : Sure fome to vex, but never all to please : [cafe, Faith, Gospel, all seem'd made to be disputed, Tis what the vicious fear, the virtuous Mun; And none had sense enough to be confuted : By fools 'cis hated, and by knaves undonc !

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If wit so much from ign’rance undero,

But you with pleasure own your errors past,
Ah let not learning tco commence its foc! And make each day a critique on the latt.
Of old, thote met rewards who could excel, 'Tis not enough your counsel still be true;
And such were prais d who but endeavour'd well: Blunt truths more ini chief than nice falsehoods do:
Tho' triumphs were to geu'rals only duc, Men must be taught as if you taught them not,
Crowns were reserv'd ta grace the foldicis too. And things unknown propos d as things forgo.
Now, they who reach Parnassus' lofty crown Without good-brecding, truth is disapprov'd;
Employ their pains to fpurn some others down; That only makes fuperior (cnfe belov'd.
And while tell-lovc cach jealous writer rules, Bc niggards of advice on no pretence ;
Contending wits become the port of fuols : For the worft avarice is that of lenfe.
But still the worst with most regret commend, With mcan complacence ne'er betray your trust,
For each ill author is as bad a friend.

Vor be so civil as to prove unjuft.
To what bale ends, and by what abiect ways, Fear not the anger of the wise to raise ;

re mortals urg'd through facred lutt of praite! | Those best can bear reproof who merit praisc. Ah! nc'er so diie a thirst of glory boast,

I werewe!! might criti s still this freedom take; for in the critic let the man be boit.

But Appius reddens at each word you speak, Good-nature and good fcntc must cver join : And ftares tremendous, with a threat'ning eye, To err is luman ; to forgive, divine.

Like some fierce tyrant in old tapeffry. But if ini notte mines fome dregs remain, Fear most to tax an honourable fool, Ihot yet purgid off, of fleen and four dildain, Whose right it is, uncensur'd, to be dull; Discharge that rage on more provoking crimes, Such, without wit, are poets when they please, Nor fcar a dearth in thcfi fiagitious times. As without learning they can take degrees. No pardon vile obscenity fould find,

Leave dog'rous truths to unsuccessful fatires, Tho' wit and art conigile to move your mind; And Hattery to fulfomc dedicators, {mors But dulnels with obscenity must provo

Whom, when they praise, the world believes no As thameful lure as impotence in love. Thun lien they promise to give scribbling o'er. 'In thc fat age of pleasure, wealth, and care, 'Tis bett fometimes your ccnsure to restrain, Sprung the rank weed, and thrivd with large and charitalıly let the dull be vain : incrtafe :

Your filence there is better than your spite; When love was all an easy monarch's care ; For who can rail fo long as they can Frite? Scidom at council, never in a war,

Still Brumming on, their drowsy course they keep Jilts ruled the trate, and statemen farces wiit; direl lub id lo long, like tops, are lathid aileep. Nay, wits had pensions, and young lords had wit: Falle steps but help them to renew the race; The fair fat panting at a courtier's play,

As, after fumbling, jades will mend their pace. And not a mask wont unimprov'd away :

What crowds of th:cle, impenitemly bold, The modest fun was lifted up no more;

In founds and jingling tillabk's grown old, And virgins fmild at what they bluth'd before. Sull run on pets in a raying rein, The following liccnte of a foreign reign Ev'n to the dregs and squeezings of the brain; Did all the dregs of bold Socinus drain ; Strain out the lolt dull droppings of their serste, Then unbelieving priests reform'd the nation,

And rivme with all the rage of mpotence ! And taught more pleasant methods of falvation;

Such lamelers barifs we liave: and yet 'tis trus, TV here Heaven's free fubjecis might thcir rights There are as mad abandon'd critics too. dispute,

The book tui blockiiead, ignorantly read, Left God limfeif should seem too absolute: Hith ivads of leamed lumber in his head, Pulpits their sacred fatire learn’d to fparc,

Ili: his own congue still edilies his cars, And vice admir'd to find a flatt'rer there! And always t'oing to himself appears. Encouray'd thus, wit's Titans brav'd the skies, All books he reads, and all he reads afTails, And the press ground with licens'd blafphemies. From Dryden's Fables down to Durfey's Tales: These monsters, critics ! with your darts engage, with him, moli authors steal their works, or buyi Here point your thunder, and exhaust your rage! | Garth did not write his own Difpenfary. Yet Thun their fault, who, scandaloully nice, Name a new Play, and he's che Poet's friend, Will needs mistake an author into vice:

Var thew'dhistauit ; but when would Poets mend All seems infected that th' infected Mpy,

No place to facred from such fops is barr’d, As all looks yellow to the jaundicdeye.

Voris Paul's church morc lafc thun Paul's church Learn then what morals critics ouzlit to fhew, yard : For 'tis but half a judge's talk to know. Nay, fly to altass; there they'll talk you dead; 'Tis not enoughi, tafte, judgment, Icarning, join ;For Tools ruth in where Angels fear to read, Jo all you speak, let truth and candour thine : Ditirutiful tente with modeft caution speaks, That not alone what to your sense is due It ftililooks home, and thort excursiops makes; All may allow, but feck your friendship too. But ratung nonsente in full voilies breaks,

Be Tílent always when you doubt your sense; And never thock d, and never turn'd aside, And speak, tho'lure, with seeming diffidence : Bursts out, resistless, with a thund'ring tide. Some positive, perfifting fops wc know,

But where's the man who counsel can buftow, Who, if once wrony, will needs be always so; Still pleas'd to teach, and yet not proud to know?

Uobiafs'd Unbiass'd or by favour or by spice;

Stemm'd the wild torrent of a barb'rous

age, for dully preposiels'd, nor blindly right; And drove thote holy Vandals oif the stage. Thoʻlcarn'd well-bred, and tho’well-bred sincere, But loc! each Mute, in Leo's golden days, Ilodertly bold, and huinanly severe;

Starts from her trance, and trims her wither'd bays: Who to a friend his faults can freely thew, Rome's ancient Gcuius, o'er its ruins fpread, And gladly praile the merit of a foe

Sliakes off the dust, and rears his rev'rend head. Bleft with a taste exact, yot uncontin'd; Then Sculpture and her sister-arts revive ; A knowledge borh of books and human kind; Stones leap'd to form, and rocks began to live; Gen'rous converse; a soul exempt from pride; With sweeter nores each riling Temple rungi And love to praile, with reason on his lide ? A Raphael painted, and a Vida sung.

Such once were Critics; such the happy few Inmortal Vida! on whose honour'd brow Athens and Rome in better ages knew.

The Poet's bays and Critic's ivy grow, The mighty Stagyrite fi ft left the shore, Cremona now shall ever boast thy name; Spread all his fails, and durft the deeps explore ; As next in place to Mantua, next in fame! He Itcer'd lecurely, and discover'd far,

But foon by impious arms from Latium chas, Led by the light of the Næonian Star.

Their ancient bounds the banilh'd Mufes pats’dl; Poets, a race long uncoufin’d and free, Thence Arts o'er all the northern world advance, Still fond and proud of favage liberty,

But Critic-learning Hourilh'd most in France: Receir'd his jais, and food convinc'd; 'twas fit, The rules a nation, born to serve, obeys; Who conquer'd Nature ihould prefidc o'er Wit. And Boile still in right of Horace fways.

Horace itili charms with graceful negligence, But we, brave Britons, foreign laws delpis’d, And without method talks is into fenic; Will, like a friend, fainiliarly convey

And kept unconquer'd and unciviliz'd;

Fierce for the liberties of wit, and buld, The rruelt nocions in the ealic! way.

We still defied the Romans, as of old. He who, lupreme in judgment as in wit, Yet tome there were, among the founder few Micht voldiv censure, as he boldly writ; Of those who less presum'd, and better knew, Yet udg'd with couloels, the he sung with fire; Who durk ailert the jufter ancient cause, His Precepts teach but what his Works inspire. And here rctior'd Wit's fundamental laws; Our Crisics take a contrary extreme;

Such was the Muse whose rules and practice tell, They judge hitta fury, but they write with phlegm; Nature's chief Malter-picce is writing well." Nor fuiters Horace more in wrong tranflations Such was Rofcommon, not more lcarn'd than good, By ivics, than critics in as wrong quotations. With manners gen'rous as his noble blood;

Sce Dionysius Homer's thoughts retine, To him the wit of Greece aud Romc was known, And call new bcauties furth froin ev'ry linc !

And ev'ry author's merit, but his own. Fancy and art in gay Petronius please; Such late was Walsh, the Muse's judycand friend, The scholar's learning, with the courtier's case. Who justly knew to blame or to commend; In grave Quintilian's copious work we find

Tofailings mild, but zealous for desert; The juzteft rules and cleareit method join’d: The clearest head, and the sincerest heart. Thus usefui arms in magazines we place, This humble praisc, lamented thade! reccire, All rang’d in order, and dispos’d with grace; This praise at least a grateful Muse may give. But lets to please the cye than arın the hand; The Mule whose early voice you taught to ling, Suill fit for use, and ready at command. Prescrib’d her heights, and prun'd her:ender wing,

Thce, bold Longinus ! all the Nine inspire, (Her guide now lott) no more attempts to nike, And bless their Critic with a Poet's fire.

But in low numbers short excursions trics : [view;
An ardent Judge, whic, zcalcus in his trust, Content, if hence th' unicarn’d their wants may
With warmt gives fentence, yet is always just: The learn'd retiet on what before they know;
Whole own cxample firengthens all his laws; Careless of censure, nor too fond of fame;
And is himiclf that great Sublime he draws. Still pleas'd to praise, yet not afraid to blame :

Thus 1oog lucceeding Critics justly reign d, Iverse alike to flatter, or oifend;
License repress’d, and useful laus ordain'd.

Not free from faults, nor yet too vain to mend,
Learning and Rome alike in empire grew,
And Arts still follow'd where lier Eagles Alew :
Froin the same focs, at last, both felt their

§ 10. Toe Rape of the Lock. Pore. And the same age faw Learni:g fall, and Rome.

Sed juvat, huc precibus me criouli tuise
With Tyranny then Superftition join'd;
As that the body, this enllav'd the mind :

CANTO 1.
Much was believ'd, but little understood;
And to be dull was construed to be gocd: WHAT dire offence from am'rous causes

springs, A second deluge Learning thus o'crrun, And the Monks finith'd what the Goths begun. What mighty contests risc from trivial things, At length Erasmus, that great injur'd name,

(ling- This verse to CaryL, Mute! is duc, The glory of the Prieithood, and the hame! This even Belinda may vouchlafo to vicw:

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doom;

Nolueram, Belinda, tuos viulare capillos;

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Slight is the subject, but not fo the praise, Know further yet—whoever fair and chaste If She inspire, and He approve my lays. Rejeêts mankind, is by fome Tylph embracd:

Say what strange motive,Goddeis! could compell For fpirits, freed from mortal laws, with ease A well-bred Lord t' assault a gentle Belle ? Aftuine what sexes and what shapes they pleaser O ļay what itranger cause, yet umexplorid, Wnat guards the purity of melting maids Could make a gentle Belle reject a Lord ? In courtly balls and midnight masquerades, In talks so bold can little men engage?

Safc from the treach'rous fricnd, the daring spark, And in soft bosoms dwells such mighty rage? The glance by day, the whisper in the dark,

Sol thro' white curtains shot a tim'rous ray, When kind occasion prompts their warm desires, And op'd those eyes that must eclipse the day : When music softens, and when dancing fires ? Now lap-dogs gave themselves the rousing shake; 'Tis but their fylph, the wife celettials know, And Neepleis lovers, just at twelve, awake: Tho' honour is the word with inen below. [face, Thrice rung the bell, the slipper knock'd the Some nymphs there are, too conscious of their ground,

For life predestin'd to the gnomes' embrace. And the press’d watch return’d a silver sound. These Twell their prospects and exalt their pride, Belinda ftill her downy pillow pressid,

When offers are disdain'd, and love denied : Her guardian Sylph prolong'd the balmy reft- They gły ideas crowd the vacant brain, (train, 'Twas He had fummon’d to her silent bed While peers, and dukes, and all their sweeping The morning-dream that hovcr'd o'er her head-And garters, Itars, and coronets appear, A youth more glitt'ring than a birth-night beau, And in soft sounds “ your grace" falutes their car. That even in slumber caus'd her check to glow, 'Tis thcfe that carly iaint the female soul, Seem'd to her car his winning lips to lay, Inftruét the eye of young coquettes to roll, And thus in whispers said, or seem'd to lay: Teach infant-checks a bidden blush to know,

Faireit of mortals, thou distinguish'd care And little hearis to Autter at a beau. Of thousand bright inhabitants of air !

Oft, when the world imagine women stray, If e'er one vision tonch tlıy in fant thought, The fylphs thro' myftic mazes guide their way Of all the Nure and all the Priest have taught; Thro' all the giddy circle they purtue, Of airy clves by moonlight thadows seen, And old impertinence expel by new. The silver token, and the circled green,

What tender maid but muit a victim fall Or virgins visited by Angel-pow'rs, Tow'rs! To one man's trcat, but for another's ball? With golden crowns, and wreaths of heavenly When Florio (peaks, what virgin could withstand, Hear and believe! thy own importance know, If gentle Damon did not squeeze her hand ? Nor bound thy narrow views to things below. With varying vanities, from ev'ry part, Some fecret truths, from learned pride conccald, They thift the moving toy-shop of theis heart ; To maids alone and children are reveal'd: Where wigs with wigs, with livord-knots swordWhat tho' no credit doubring wits may give ?

kpots strive, The fair and innocent thall still believe.

Beaux banish beaux, and coaches coaches drive. Know then, unnumber'd spirits round thee fly, This erring mortais levity may call; The light Militia of the lower sky:

Oh blind to truth! the Sylphis contrive it all. There, tho' unseeil, are ever on the wing, Of thete am I, who thy protection claim; Hang o'er the box, and hover round the ring. A watclitul sprite, and Ariel is my name. Think what an equipage thou hast in air, Late as I rarg'd the crystal wilds of air, And view with foorn two pages and a chair. In the clear icirror of thy ruling star As now your own, our beings were of old, Ildiv, alas! foine dread event impend, And once inclos'd in woman's beauteous mould; Ere to the main this morning sun descend; Thence, by a loft tranfition, we repair

But heaven reveals not what, or how, or where : From earthly vehicles to these of air.

Warn'd by thy Sylph, oh pious maid, beware! Think not, when woman's tranficutbreath is fled, This to disclose is all thy guardian can : That all her vanities at once are dead;

Beware of all, but most beware of man! [long, Succeeding vanities she still regards,

He said; when Shock, who thought Ihc sept 100 And, tho' me plays no more, o erlooks the cards. Leap'd up, and wak d his mistress with his tongue. Her joy in gilded cliarints, when alire,

'Twas then, Belinda, if report say true, And love of ombre, afier deith lurvive; Thy eyes first open'd on a billet-doux; For when the fair in all their pride expire, Wounds, charms, and ardours,were no sooner read, To their first elements their fonts retire : But all the vision vanith d from thy head. The sprites of fiery termag ints in flaine

And now, unveil'd, the toilet stands display d; Mount up, and take a salamander's name. Each silver vase in mystic order laid. Soft yielding minds to water glide away, First, rob’d in white, the nymph intent adores, And sip, wiin nymphs, their clemental tea. With head uncover'd, the cofinetic pow'rs : The graver prude finks downward to a gnome, A heavenly image in the glass appears ; In search of mischief ftill on carth to roain. To that the bends, to that her eyes the rears; The light coquettes in Typhs aloft repair, Th’inferior priettels, at her altar's fide, And sport and fluitcr in the rield: o: air. Trembling, begins the facred rices of pride.

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