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To virtuous love resign thy breast,
And be, by blessing beauty-blest.
Thus taste the feast by nature spread,
Ere youth and all its joys are fled ;
Come taste with me the balm of life,
Secure from pomp, and wealth, and strife.
I boast whate'er for man was meant,
In health, and Stella, and content;
And fcorn! oh! let that scorn be thine !
Mere things of clay that dig the mine.
W The beauries of the gay brocade,
"HEN lately Stella's form display'd
The nymphs, who found their power decline,
Proclaim'd her not so fair as fine.
“ Fate! snatch away the bright disguise,
“ And let the goddess trust her eyes.”
Thus blindly pray'd the fretful Fair,
And Fate malicious heard the pray'r;
But, brighten'd by the fable dress,
As virtue rises in distress,
Since Stella still extends her reign,
Ah! how shall envy footh her pain ?
Th’adoring Youth and envious Fair,
Henceforth shall form one common pray'r ;
And love and hate alike implore
The kics- That Stella mourn no more.'
or the soft sighs of vernal gales,
The fragrance of the flowery vaies,
The murmurs of the crystal rill,
The vocal grove, the verdant hill;
Not all their charms, though all unite,
Can touch my bosom with delight.
Not all the gems on India's shore,
Not all Peru's unbounded store,
Not all the power, nor all the fame,
That heroes, kings, or poets, claim ;
Nor knowledge, which the learn'd
To form one with my soul can move.
Yet nature's charms allure my eyes,
And knowledge, wealth, and fame, I prize;
Fame, wealth, and knowledge, I obtain,
Nor seek I nature's charms in vain ;
In lovely Stella all combine;
And, lovely Stella! thou art mine.
WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF A GENTLEMAN TO WHOM A LADY HAD GIVEN A
SPRIG OF MYRTLE*.
H A T hopes, what terrors, does this gift create ?
Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate.
The myrtle (ensign of supreme command,
Consign’d to Venus by Meliffa's hand)
Not less capricious than a reigning fair,
Oft favours, oft rejects, a lover's pray’r.
In myrtle shades oft fings the happy fwaiit,
In myrtle shades despairing ghosts complain.
The myrtle crowns the happy lovers heads,
Th’unhappy lovers graves the mrytle spreads.
Oh! then, the meaning of thy gift impart,
And ease the throbbings of an anxious heart.
Soon must this sprig, as you shall fix its doom,
Adorn Philander's nead, or grace his 'tomb.
* These verses were firf priated in a Magazine for 1768, but were written between forty and fifty years ago. Elegant as they are, they were composed in the Mort space of five minutes.
T length must Suffolk beauties shine in vain,
So long renown'd in B-n's deathless strain ? Thy charms at least, fair Firebrace, might inspire Some zealous bard to wake the sleeping lyre; For, such thy beauteous mind and lovely face, Thou seem'st at once, bright nymph, a Muse and
To LYCE, an elderly Lady.
E nymphs whom starry rays invest,
By flattering poets given,
Who shine, by lavish lovers drest,
In all the
of Heaven ;
* This lady was Bridget, third daughter of Philip Bacon, Esq. of Ipfwich, and relict of Philip Evers, Esq. of that town. She became the second wife of Sir Cordell Firebrace, the last Baronet of that name (to whom she brought a fortune of 25,000l.), July 26, 1737. Being again left a widow in 1759, she was a third time married, April 7, 1762, to William Campbell, Esq. uncle to the present Duke of Argyle; and died July 3, 1782.
ON HER PLAYING UPON THE HAR PSICHORD IN A
ROOM HUNG WITH FLOWER-PIECES
OF HER OWN PAINTING*.
hen Stella strikes the tuneful ftring WHEN
In scenes of imitated Spring,
Where Beauty lavishes her powers
On beds of never-fading flowers,
And Pleasure propagates around
Each charm of modulated found;
Ah! think not in the dangerous hour,
The nymph fictitious as the flower;
But fhun, rafh youth, the gay alcove,
, Nor tempt the snares of wily love.
When charms thus press on every sensc,
What thought of light, or of defence ?
Deceitful hope, and vain defire,
For ever flutter o'er her lyre,
Delighting as the youth draws nigh,
To point the glances of her eye,
And forming with unerring art
New chains to hold the captive heart.
But on those regions of delight
Might truth intrude with daring flight,
Could Stella, sprightly, fair, and young,
One moment hear the moral song,
Instruction with her flowers might spring,
And wisdom warble from her ftring.