Look not so divinely on me, Cælia, I shall die with bliss; Yet, yet turn those eyes upon me, Who'd not die a death like this? SONG XI. THE RECONCILING KISS. "WHY that sadness on thy brow? Why that starting crystal tear? Dearest Polly, let me know, For thy grief I cannot bear." Polly with a sigh reply'd, "What need I the cause impart? Did you not this moment chide? And you know it breaks my heart." Colin, melting as she spoke, Caught the fair one in his arms; I'd no anger in my thought; As when sudden stormy rain All the face of Nature smiles: By her Colin's kind embrace, Her declining head up-rear'd, Sweetly smiling in his face, SONG XIII. THE MUTUAL KISS. "CALIA, by those smiling graces Which my panting bosom warm; By the heaven of thy embraces, By thy wond'rous power to charm; By those soft bewitching glances, Which my inmost bosom move; By those lips, whose kiss entrances, Thee, and thee alone I love." "By thy god-like art of loving," Cælia, with a blush, replies;. "By thy heavenly power of moving, All my soul to sympathize; By thy eager fond caresses, By those arms around me thrown; By that look, which truth expresses, My fond heart is all thy own." Thus, with glowing inclination, They indulge the tender bliss; And to bind the lasting passion, Seal it with a mutual kiss: Close, in fond embraces, lying, They together seem to grow; Such supreme delight enjoying, As true lovers only know. THE WIFE. A FRAGMENT. THE virtues that endear and sweeten life, Hail, lovely Woman! Nature's blessing, hail! Whose charms o'er all the powers of man prevail: Thou healing balm of life, which bounteous To pour on all our woes, has kindly given! Grant some are bad: yet surely some remain, Near that fam'd hill, from whose enchanting brow Such various scenes enrich the vales below; While gentle Thames meandering glides along, Meads, flocks, and groves, and rising towers Fidelia dwelt: fair as the fairest scene [among, Of smiling Nature, when the sky's serene. Full sixteen summers had adorn'd her face, Warm'd every sense, and waken'd every grace; Her eye look'd sweetness, gently heav'd her breast, Her shape, her motion, graceful ease exprest. And to this fair, this finish'd form, were join'd The softest passions, and the purest mind. Among the neighbouring youths who strove to gain Fidelia's heart, Lysander made his addresses. He was a younger brother, of a good family, but small fortune. His person was handsome and gentcel, his manners easy and engaging. With these advantages he soon obtained a place in young Fidelia's heart; and, as her fortune, which was very considerable, was in her own dispose, there was no obstacle to their happiness; with all the eloquence of a lover, he pressed the consummation of his wishes, a tender softness pleads within her breast, she yields to the force of his persuasions, and they are married. Who can express the pleasures which they now enjoy? To make her happy seemed the scope of all his actions, and such a growing fondness warmed her heart, that every day endeared him more and more. The fortune which she brought he managed with prudence and discretion; and the pleasure which he found in her sweet behaviour, and enchanting beauties, repaid his cares with interest. Thus flew the hours, winged with delight; the day passed not without some new endearment; and the night felt nameless raptures, or serene reposc. Before the end of two years their loves were crowned with a smiling boy. If any thing could increase their foudness of each other it was this engaging pledge of their affection. But, alas! how variable is the heart of man! how easily are his passions inflamed! how soon his best affections altered! and reason, which should be his guide, is but as the light of a candle, which the least gust of passion can puff out, and quite extinguish. Of this unhappy truth, Lysander soon became a fatal instance. It happened at this time, whether by accident or design I know not, that a creature of exquisite beauty, but of infamous character, came to lodge exactly over against the house of this, till then, most happy pair. As Lysander was not only possest of a handsome person, but now also of an ample fortune, immediately a thousand arts were tried by this inveigling harlot, to attract his observation, and if possible to ensnare his heart. At her window, in his sight, she would appear in a loose and tempting dishabille. Now in a seeming negligence discover her white naked breasts, then with a leering smile pretend to hide them from his sight. Her wanton eyes, all sparkling with delight, she now would fix with eagerness upon him; then in a soft and languishing air by slow degrees withdraw, yet looking back as loath to leave the place. As Lysander had too much experience of the world, not to understand this amorous language, so his heart was too susceptible of the tender passion not to feel its force. And unable to withstand the daily repetition of these provoking temptations, he at last determined to go over privately one evening and make her a visit. It will be needless to say he was kindly received, how kindly, will be better imagined than expressed. Here had he stopped, this one transgression might have been forgiven: but such was his infatuation, that from this time his visits became frequent: he was so intoxicated with her charms (for indeed she was handsome) and so bewitched with her alluring blandishments, that the podest beauty of his fair and virtuous wife became at once neglected, and at length despised. Poor Fidelia! who can express the agonies of her heart when first the fatal secret she discovered? Conscious on how many accounts she merited his love, pride and resentment for some time struggled with her affection; but such was the softness of her nature, such the tenderness of her passion, that she was not able to reproach him any other way than by a silent grief, Alone she pined, and like a lily in the secret vale drooped her fair head, unfriended and unseen. Of what must be his heart, that such endearing softness could not melt, that such engaging virtue shamed not into goodness! But such is the nature of vice, that it hardens the heart to all humane and generous impressions. At first, perhaps, his virtue made some efforts in her favour; but the trouble it cost him to suppress them when the rage of his newkindled flame returned, made him by degrees unwilling to indulge them. Thus endeavouring to smother all remains of gratitude or compassion, he became at length as insensible to her grief as to her wrongs. Barbarian! how canst thou lavish on abandoned vileness that wealth, which love and unsuspect ing virtue trusted to thy hand! how canst thou leave that angel-sweetness, that untainted rose, for paint, polluted charms, and prostitution! how canst thou see thy tender innocent babe suck with its milk those grief-distilling drops that fall incessant on her snowy breast, for thy unkind neglect! Unfeeling wretch! But what is man not capable to do, when blind with passion, hardened with his guilt? Alas! this is but the beginning of her woes; and nothing to the grief this hapless fair one is ordained to suffer. Indifference is soon succeeded by ill nature and ill usage. He now nọ longer makes a secret of his base intrigue. Whole days and nights are spent in her lewd chambers, shameless and open in the sight of the world, and in the very face of his insulted, injured, unoffending wife. But this was not enough. Home, and the sight of this affronted, yet still patient virtue, became uneasy and disgustful. He is therefore determined to remove her from him. But the means of bringing this about were as infamous, as the desire of doing it was cruel. His valet de chambre, whose name was Craven, had lived with him some years, and was a man whom he found to be capable of any villany he should think fit to cmploy him in. This man he prevailed with, by large gifts and many promises, to conceal himself in Fidelia's bed-chamber," and continue there," said he to him, "till after she is in bed; when I will come in and pretend to surprise you with her: and in the confusion which will follow, do you slip out of the room, and make your escape." This detestable scheme was no sooner concerted, than it was put in exccution. He that very evening found means to hide himself in the chamber of this innocent lady, who at her usual hour repaired to rest. After committing herself to Heaven, and with a shower of tears bewailing her hard fate, she closed her eyes in sleep. Protect her, Heaven, support her in this hour, when he who should protect her and support, is basely undermining and betraying her! Sleep had no sooner closed her grief-swoln eyes, than her husband rushed into the chamber, and with feign'd rage and frightful imprecations demanded the adulterer. Surprised with terrour and astonishment she started from her sleep, and in a trembling voice desired to know the occasion of his anger. He gave no answer to her entreaties, but continuing his pretended rage, sought every corner of the room; and from beneath the bed at length pulled out the hidden traitor. This unexpected sight, and the appearance of so shocking a discovery, so terrified the poor amazed Fidelia, that, for a time, her senses seemed suspended. While thus her husband: "Is this, madam, the truth, the purity which you so much pretended! Is this your innocence! Is this the secret idol of your false devotion! Dissembling harlot! I long indeed have had suspicions what you were, at last I have pulled off the mask, and my pretended saint is now detected." "O Heaven and Earth!" cried out Fidelia, "do you then believe me guilty? do you believe I know aught of this vile man! that I encouraged, or that I concealed him! Suspected what I am! Good Heaven, what am I? Am I not your wife? would God I were not! O Lysander, there needed not this; my heart before was broke, why would you murder too my innocence?" "Your | And go to Heaven a nearer way This last proposal was the very thing he wished; so turning to her with a scornful look, he told her she might take her brat and go whither she would as soon as she pleased; then breaking rudely from her, left her on the floor. What language can express the agonies she felt at this hard usage! she arose from the floor where his barbarity had left her, and putting on the meanest clothes she had, went to the bed where lay her sleeping babe, kissed and wept over it for some time, then took it in her arms, and laying it to her breast, departed from her house that very night. Here for the present let us leave this poor unhappy wanderer, with Providence her sole guide, and innocence her comfort; and turn to see what punishment will be prepared for her perfidious and inhuman husband. Now unrestrained he lived with his lewd paramour in all the heights of luxury and extravagance, and every pleasure for a while appeared to wait on his command. But soon her wanton waste and boundless riot brought him to distress. Cætera desunt. ROME'S PARDON. A TALE. If Rome can pardon sins, as Romans bold; Rochester. IT happen'd on a certain time, "Most holy father, I have been, I hope 'twill all my faults atone." Friend," quoth the pope, " I'm glad to see "All!" cry'd the man, " I thought that half A pardon for his sins was given, A poor and humble penitent "Poor!" quoth the pope," then cease your suit, Indeed you may as well be mute; Forbear your now too late contrition, You're in a reprobate condition. What! spend your wealth, and from the whole Not save one souse to save your soul? Oh, you're a sinner, and a hard one, I wonder you can ask a pardon: Friend, they're not had, unless you buy 'em, From twig to twig their tender wings they try, Our flights are low, and want of art and strength AN EPISTLE TO STEPHEN DUCK, FORGIVE me, Duck, that such a Muse as mine, Yet some indulgence sure they ought to shew So when the dawn of thought peeps out in man, On then, my friend, nor doubt but that in time And guided all her actions. Her life was a public blessing; O reader! if thou doubtest of these things, ON RICHES. HUMBLY INSCRIBED TO THE RIGHT HON..... Scorn thou with generous freedom to record, -r; So shall thy praise no conscious blush excite. Wealth thus bestow'd returns in lasting fame, But where's th' advantage then, will Corvus say, His ponds with fish, with fowl his woods are stor'd, Who, foolish Corvus, who but thee will say, But shou'd pretending coxcombs, from this rule, Plead equal privilege to play the fool; The Muse forbids. She only gives to sense 'Tis costly: true, but who can blame the expense, "Where splendor borrows all her rays from sense?” Sylvio retirement loves; smooth crystal floods, Green meadows, hills and dales, and verdant woods Delight his eye; the warbling birds to hear, With rapture fills his soul, and charms his ear. In shady walks, in groves, in secret bowers, Plann'd by himself, he spends the peaceful hours: Here serious thought pursues her thread serene, No interrupting follies intervene ; Propitious silence aids th' attentive mind, The God of Nature in his works to find. If this t' enjoy affords him most delight, Who says that Sylvio is not in the right ? [all. Publius in curious paintings wealth consumes, The best, the finest hands adorn his rooms; Various designs, from each enliven'd wall, Meet the pleas'd eyes, and something charms in Here well-drawn landscapes to the mind convey A smiling country, or a stormy sea; Towns, houses, trees, diversify the plain, And ships in danger fright us frota the main. There the past actions of illustrious men, In strong description charm the world agen: Love, anger, grief, in different scenes are wrought, All its just passions animate the draught. But see new charms break in a flood of day, See Loves and Graces on the canvass play; Beauty's imagin'd smiles our bosom warm, And light and shade retains the power to charm. Who censures Publius, or condemns his cost, Must wish the nobler art of painting lost. Whilst Publius thus his taste in painting shews, Critus admires her sister art, the Muse. Homer and Virgil, Horace and Boileau Teach in his breast poetic warmth to glow. From these instructed, and from these inspir'd. Critus for taste and judgment is admir'd. Poets before him lay the work of years, And from his sentence draw their hopes and fears. Hail, judge impartial! noble critic, hail! In this thy day, good writing must prevail: Our bards from you will hence be what they shou'd, Please and improve us, make us wise and good. Thus bless'd with wealth, his genius each pursues, In building, planting, painting, or the Muse. |