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The little Cupids hovering round,
(As pictures prove,) with garlands crown'd,
Abash'd at what they saw and heard
Flew off, nor ever more appear'd.
Adieu to ravishing delights,
High raptures, and romantic flights;
To goddesses so heavenly sweet,
Expiring shepherds at their feet;
To silver meads and shady bowers,
Dress'd up with amaranthine flowers.
How great a change! how quickly made!
They learn to call a spade a spade.
They soon from all constraint are freed
Can see each other do their need.
On box of cedar sits the wife,

And makes it warm for dearest life;
And by the beastly way of thinking,
Find great society in stinking.
Now Strephon daily entertains
His Chloe in the homeliest strains;
And Chloe, more experienced grown,
With interest pays him back his own,
No maid at court is less ashamed,
Howe'er for selling bargains famed,
Than she to name her parts behind,
Or when a-bed to let out wind.

Fair Decency, celestial maid!
Descend from heaven to Beauty's aid!
Though Beauty may beget desire,
'Tis thou must fan the lover's fire;
For Beauty, like supreme dominion,
Is best supported by Opinion:
If Decency bring no supplies,
Opinion falls and Beauty dies.

To see some radiant nymph appear
In all her glittering birthday gear,
You think some goddess from the sky,
Descended, ready cut and dry;

But ere you sell yourself to laughter,
Consider well what may come after;
For fine ideas vanish fast,
While all the gross and filthy last.

O Strephon, ere that fatal day
When Chloe stole your heart away,
Had you but through a cranny spied
On house of ease your future bride,
In all the postures of her face,
Which nature gives in such a case,
Distortions, groanings, strainings, heavings,
"Twere better you had lick'd her leavings

Than from experience find too late

Your fancy then had always dwelt
On what you saw and what you smelt;
Would still the same ideas give ye,
As when you spied her on the privy;
And, spite of Chloe's charms divine,
Your heart had been as whole as mine.
Authorities, both old and recent,
Direct that women must be decent;
And from the spouse each blemish hide,
More than from all the world beside.
Unjustly all our nymphs complain
Their empire holds so short a reign;
Is, after marriage, lost so soon,
It hardly lasts the honeymoon :
For if they keep not what they caught
It is entirely their own fault.

They take possession of the crown,
And then throw all their weapons down:
Though, by the politician's scheme,
Whoe'er arrives at power supreme,

Those arts, by which at first they gain it,
They still must practise to maintain it.
What various ways our females take

To pass for wits before a rake!
And in the fruitless search pursue
All other methods but the true!

Some try to learn polite behavior

By reading books against their Savior;
Some call it witty to reflect

On every natural defect;

Some show they never want explaining

To comprehend a double meaning.
But sure a telltale out of school
Is of all wits the greatest fool;
Whose rank imagination fills

Her heart, and from her lips distils;
You'd think she utter'd from behind,
Or at her mouth was breaking wind.
Why is a handsome wife adored
By every coxcomb but her lord?
From yonder puppet-man inquire,
Who wisely hides his wood and wire;
Shows Sheba's queen completely dress'd,
And Solomon in royal vest;

But view them litter'd on the floor,
Or strung on pegs behind the door;
Punch is exactly of a piece

With Lorrain's duke, and prince of Greece.
A prudent builder should forecast
How long the stuff is like to last;
And carefully observe the ground,

What house, when its materials crumble,
Must not inevitably tumble?
What edifice can long endure
Raised on a basis unsecure?
Rash mortals, ere you take a wife,
Contrive your pile to last for life:
Since beauty scarce endures a day,
And youth so swiftly glides away;
Why will you make yourself a bubble,
To build on sand with hay and stubble?
On sense and wit your passion found,
By decency cemented round;

Let prudence with good-nature strive
To keep esteem and love alive.
Then come old age whene'er it will,
Your friendship shall continue still;
And thus a mutual gentle fire
Shall never but with life expire.

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APOLLO, god of light and wit,
Could verse inspire, but seldom writ;
Refined all metals with his looks,
As well as chemists by their books;
As handsome as my lady's page;
Sweet five-and-twenty was his age.
His wig was made of sunny rays,
He crown'd his youthful head with bays;
Not all the court of Heaven could show
So nice and so complete a beau.
No heir upon his first appearance,
With twenty thousand pounds a-year rents
E'er drove, before he sold his land,
So fine a coach along the Strand;
The spokes, we are by Ovid told,
Were silver, and the axle gold:
I own, 'twas but a coach-and-four,
For Jupiter allows no more.

Yet, with his beauty, wealth, and parts,
Enough to win ten thousand hearts,
No vulgar deity above

Was so unfortunate in love.

Three weighty causes were assign'd
That moved the nymphs to be unkind.
Nine Muses always waiting round him,
He left them virgins as he found them,
His singing was another fault,
For he could reach to B in alt;
And by the sentiments of Pliny,
Such singers are like Nicolini.
At last the point was fully clear'd;

THE PLACE OF THE DAMNED. 1731.

ALL folks who pretend to religion and grace
Allow there's a HELL, but dispute of the place:
But if HELL may by logical rules be defined
The place of the damn'd-I'll tell you my mind.
Wherever the damn'd do chiefly abound,

Most certainly there is IIELL to be found:

Damn'd poets, damn'd critics, damn'd blockheads, damn'd knaves,
Damn'd senators bribed, damn'd prostitute slaves;

Damn'd lawyers and judges, damn'd lords and damn'd squires;
Damn'd spies and informers, damn'd friends and damn'd liars;
Damn'd villians, corrupted in every station;
Damn'd time-serving priests all over the nation;
And into the bargain I'll readily give you

Damn'd ignorant prelates, and counsellors privy.
Then let us no longer by parsons be flamm'd,

For we know by these marks the place of the damn'd;
And HELL to be sure is at Paris or Rome:
How happy for us that it is not at home!

THE DAY OF JUDGMENT.'

WITH a whirl of thought oppress'd,

I sunk from reverie to rest.

A horrid vision seized my head,

I saw the graves give up their dead!
Jove, arm'd with terrors, bursts the skies,
And thunder roars and lightning flies!
Amazed, confused, its fate unknown,

The world stands trembling at his throne!
While each pale sinner hung his head,

Jove, nodding, shook the heavens, and said,
Offending race of human kind,

66

By nature, reason, learning blind;

You who through frailty stepp'd aside,
And you who never fell from pride;
You who in different sects were shamm'd,
And come to see each other damn'd
(So some folk told you, but they knew
No more of Jove's designs than you);

The world's mad business now is o'er,
And I resent these pranks no more.
-I to such blockheads set my wit!

I damn such fools! - Go, go, you're bit."

This poem was first printed (from the dean's MS.) in a letter from lord Chesterfield, addressed to Mr. Voltaire.

What house, when its materials crumble,
Must not inevitably tumble?
What edifice can long endure
Raised on a basis unsecure?
Rash mortals, ere you take a wife,
Contrive your pile to last for life:
Since beauty scarce endures a day,
And youth so swiftly glides away;
Why will you make yourself a bubble,
To build on sand with hay and stubble?
On sense and wit your passion found,
By decency cemented round;

Let prudence with good-nature strive
To keep esteem and love alive.
Then come old age whene'er it will,
Your friendship shall continue still;
And thus a mutual gentle fire
Shall never but with life expire.

[blocks in formation]

APOLLO, god of light and wit,
Could verse inspire, but seldom writ;
Refined all metals with his looks,
As well as chemists by their books;
As handsome as my lady's page;
Sweet five-and-twenty was his age.
His wig was made of sunny rays,
He crown'd his youthful head with bays;
Not all the court of Heaven could show
So nice and so complete a beau.
No heir upon his first appearance,
With twenty thousand pounds a-year rents
E'er drove, before he sold his land,
So fine a coach along the Strand;
The spokes, we are by Ovid told,
Were silver, and the axle gold:
I own, 'twas but a coach-and-four,
For Jupiter allows no more.

Yet, with his beauty, wealth, and parts,
Enough to win ten thousand hearts,
No vulgar deity above

Was so unfortunate in love.

Three weighty causes were assign'd
That moved the nymphs to be unkind.
Nine Muses always waiting round him,
He left them virgins as he found them,
His singing was another fault,
For he could reach to B in alt;
And by the sentiments of Pliny,
Such singers are like Nicolini.
At last the point was fully clear'd;

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