To a Coquet Beauty.

'Rom wars and plagues come no fuch harms,

wars come fuch

As from a Nymph fo full of charms,

So much sweetness in her face,

In her motions fuch a grace,

In her kind inviting eyes
Such a foft enchantment lies;
That we please our felves too soon,
And are with empty hopes undone.
After all her softness, we
Are but flaves, while fhe is free;
Free, alas, from all defire,

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Except to fet the 'world on fire.

Thou, fair diffembler, doft but thus

Deceive thy felf, as well as us.

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Like a reftlefs Monarch, thou

Would't rather force Mankind to bow,
And venture round the world to roam,
Than govern peaceably at home,
But trust me, Celia, truft me when
Apollo's felf infpires my pen;

One hour of love's delights outweighs
Whole years of univerfal praise;

And one adorer kindly us'd,

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Gives truer joys than crouds refus'd.

For what does youth and beauty serve?

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Why more than all your fex delerve?

Why fuch foft alluring arts

To charm our eyes, and melt our hearts?

By

By our lofs you nothing gain,

Unless you love, you please in vain.

L

The Relapfe.

Ike children in a starry night,
When I beheld thofe eyes before,

I gaz'd with wonder and delight,
Infenfible of all their pow'r.

I play'd about the flame fo long,
At laft I felt the scorching fire;

My hopes were weak, my paffion ftrong,
And I lay dying with defire;

By all the helps of humane art,

I just recover'd fo much fenfe, As to avoid, with heavy heart,

The fair, but fatal influence.

But, fince you fhine away despair,
And now my fighs no longer fhun,
No Perfian in his zealous prayer
So much adores the rifing Sun.

If once again my vows displease,
There never was so loft a lover;
In love, that languishing disease,
A fad relapse we ne'er recover.

Se franger grown to all delight,

A

Paffing with tedious thoughts the day,
And with unquiet dreams the night.

For your dear fake, my only care
Was how my fatal love to hide;
For ever drooping with defpair,
Neglecting all the world befide :

Till, like fome Angel from above,
Cornelia came to my relief;

And then I found the joys of love

I

Can make amends for all the grief.

Thofe pleafing hopes I now pursue,
Might fail, if you could prove unjust;
But promises from Heav'n and you,
Who is fo impious to miftruft?

Here all my doubts and troubles end;
One tender word my foul affures;
Nor am I vain, fince I depend,

Not on my own defert, but yours.

The Convert.

DEBut yet with fervent thoughts inflam'd,

Ejected as true converts die,

So, faireft! at your feet I lie,
Of all my fexes faults afham'd.

Too long, alas, have I abus'd

Love's innocent and facred flame,”

And that divineft pow'r have us'd

To laugh at as an idle name.

But fince foo freely I confefs

A crime which may your fcorn produce Allow me now to make it less

By any just and fair excuse.

『, "

I then did vulgar joys pursue bax

Variety was all my bliss:

But ignorant of love and you,

How could I chuse but do amiss?

If ever now my wandring eyesot

1

Seek out amusements as beforeen of th one? If e'er I look, but to defpife

Such charms, and value yours the more 3

May fad remorfe and guilty fhame

Revenge your wrongs on faithless me;

And, what I tremble cv'n to name

May I lose all in lofing thee.

3

10

15

20

The

T

The PICTURE.

In imitation of ANACREON.

"Hou flatterer of all the fair,

Come with all your skill and care;
Draw me fuch a fhape, and face,
As your flattery would disgrace.
With not that she would appear's
'Tis well for you he is not here;"
Scarce can you with fafety fee
All her charms defcrib'd by me:
I alas the danger know!

I alas have felt the blow!

Mourn, as loft, my former days,
That never fung of Celia's praife;
And those few that are behind 10
I fhall bleft or wretched find
Only juft as fhe is kind.

15

With her tempting eyes begin, udh vod do Eyes that would draw Angels ingo ti dowol To a fecond, fweeter finom most Joy red salar Oh, thofe wanton rowling eyes! mail) && mod At each glance adover dies, and aid do'20 Make them bright yet make them willing, no% Let them look both kind, and killing.

Next, draw her forehead, then, her nofe, And lips juft opening that, difclofe

Teeth fo white, and breath fo fweet,

So much beauty, fo much wit,

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