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ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX,
MRS. MARY BLAIZE.
Good people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madam Blaize,
From those who spoke her praise.
The needy seldom pass'd her door,
And always found her kind; She freely lént to all the poor
Who left a pledge behind.
She strove the neighbourhood to please,
With manners wondrous winning, And never follow'd wicked ways
Unless when she was sinning,
At church, in silks and sattins new,
With hoop of monstrous size; She never slumber'd in her pew
But when she shut her eyes.
Her love was sought, I do aver,
By twenty beaux and more;
When she has walk'd before.
But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short-all; The doctors found, when she was dead,
Her last disorder mortal.
Let us lament, in sorrow sore,
For Kent street well may say,
She had not died to-day.
A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH,
STRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING.
Imitated from the Spanish.
SURE ’twas by Providence design'd,
Rather in pity, than in hate,
To save him from Narcissus' fate.
IRIS, IN BOW-STREET, COVENT-GARDEX.
Say, cruel Iris, pretty rake,
Dear mercenary beauty,
Expressive of my duty ?
My heart, a victim to thine eyes,
Should I at once deliver,
The gift who slights the giver?
A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy,
My rivals give--and let 'em ; If gems of gold, impart a joy,
I'll give them--when I get 'em.
I'll give--but not the full-blown rose,
Or rose-bud more in fashion ;
A transitory passion.
I'll give thee something yet unpaid,
Not less sincere than civil :
I'll give thee-to the devil.*
STANZAS ON WOMAN.
(FROM THE VICAR OF WAKEFIELD.)
Wuen lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray ; What charm can sooth her melancholy,
What art can wash her guilt away?
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom-is, to die!
These veraes appear to be imitated from the French of Grecourt, # witty but grossly indecent writer. VOL. XXX.
DR. GOLDSMITH, And inserted in the Morning Chronicle of April 3, 1800. E’en have you seen, bath'd in the morning dew,
The budding rose its infant bloom display ; When first its virgin tints unfold to view,
It shrinks, and scarcely trusts the blaze of day,
So soft, so delicate, so sweet she came,
Youth’s damask glow just dawning on her cheek; I gaz’d, I sigh’d, I caught the tender flame,
Felt the fond pang,and droop'd with passion weak.
INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG IN THE COMEDY OF
Au me! when shall I marry me?
Lovers are plenty, but fail to relieve me. He, fond youth, that could carry me,
Offers to love, but means to deceive me.
But I will rally and combat the ruiner:
Not a look, not a smile, shall my passion discover; She that gives all to the false one pursuing her,
Makes but a penitent, and loses a lover.
WEEPING, murmuring, complaining,
Lost to every gay delight; Myra, too sincere for feigning,
Fears the approaching bridal night.
Yet why impair thy bright perfection!
Or dim thy beauty with a tear? Had Myra follow'd my direction,
She long had wanted cause of fear.
TAE wretch condemn'd with life to part,
Still, still, on hope relies ;
Bids expectation rise.
Hope, like the glimmering taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way,
Emits a brighter ray.
• Closely copied from a madrigal by St. Pavier.