May Heaven around this destin'd head
The choicest of its curses shed:
To fum up all the rage of Fate,
In the two things I dread and hate ;
May'st thou be false, and I be great.
Thus, on his Celia's panting breast,
Fond Celadon his foul expreft;
While with delight the lovely maid
Received the vows, the thus repaid:
Hop of my age, joy of my youth,
Bleft miracle of love and truth!
All that could e'er be counted mine,
My love and
long fince are thine ;
A real joy I never knew;
"Till I believ'd thy paffion true :
A real grief I ne'er can find;
'Till thou prov't perjur'd or unkind.
Contempt, and poverty, and care,
All we abhor, and all we fear,
Bleft with thy prefence, I can bear.
Through waters, and through flames I'll go,
Sufferer and folace of thy woe:
Trace me fome yet unheard-of way,
That I thy ardour may repay;
And make my conftant paffion known,
By more than woman yet has done.
Had I a wifh that did not bear
The ftamp and image of my dear; ·
I'd pierce my heart through every vein,
And die to let it out again,
No: Venus fhall my witness be,
(If Venus ever lov'd like me)
That for one hour I would not quit
My fhepherd's arms, and this retreat,
To be the Perfian monarch's bride,
Part'ner of all his power and pride;
Or rule in regal state above,
Mother of gods, and wife of Jove.
O HAPPY THESE OF HUMAN RACE!
But foon, alas! our pleasures pass.
He thank'd her on his bended knee;
Then drank a quart of milk and tea :
And leaving her ador'd embracetil
Haften'd to court to beg a place.
While fhe, his abfence to bemoan,
The very moment he was gone,
Call'd Thyrfis from beneath the bed!
Where all this time he had been hid.
WHILE men have thefe ambitious fancies;
And wanton wenches read romances;
Our fex will-What? out with it. Lye;
And theirs in equal ftrains reply.
The moral of the tale I fing
(A pofy for a wedding ring)
In this short verfe will be confin'd:
Love is a jeft, and vows are wind.
MISS Danäe, when fair and young,
(As Horace has divinely fung)
Could not be kept from Jove's embrace
By doors of steel, and walls of brass.
The reason of the thing is clear;
Would Jove the naked truth aver:
Cupid was with him of the party;
And fhew'd himself fincere and hearty :
For, give that whipfter but his errand;
He takes my Lord Chief Juftice' warrant;
Dauntless as death away he walks ;
Breaks the doors open; fnaps the locks;
Searches the parlour, chamber, study;
Nor ftops 'till he has Culprit's body.
Since this has been authentic truth,
By age deliver'd down to youth;
Tell us,
Why fo myfterious, why fo jealous?
Does the reftraint, the bolt, the bar
Make us lefs curious, her lefs fair?
The spy, which does this treasure keep,
Does the ne'er fay her prayers, nor fleep?
Does the to no excefs incline?
miftaken husband tell us,
Does the fly mufick, mirth, and wine?
Or have not gold and flattery power,
To purchase one unguarded hour?
Your care does farther yet extend:
That spy is guarded by your friend.-
But has this friend nor eye, nor heart ?
May he not feel the cruel dart,
Which, foon or late, all mortals feel?
May he not, with too tender zeal,
Give the fair pris'ner caufe to fee,
How much he wishes, fhe were free?
May he not craftily infer
The rules of friendship too fevere,
"Which chain him to a hated truft;
Which make him wretched, to be juft?
And may not fhe, this darling fhe,
Youthful and healthy, flesh and blood,
Eafy with him, ill us'd by thee,
Allow this logic to be good?
K 2
Sir, will your questions never end?
I trust to neither spy nor friend.
In short, I keep her from the fight
Of every human face.-She'll write.
and paper fhe's debarr'd.-
Has fhe a bodkin and a card?
She'll prick her mind.She will you fay:
But how fhall fhe that mind convey?
I keep her in one room: I lock it :
The key (look here) is in this pocket.
The key-hole, is that left? most certain,
She'll thruft her letter through-Sir Martin.
Dear angry friend, what must be done?
Is there no way ? -There is but one.
Send her abroad; and let her fee,
That all this mingled mafs, which she
Being forbidden longs to know,
Is a dull farce, an empty show,
Powder, and pocket-glafs, and beau;
A ftaple of romance and lies,
Falfe tears, and real perjuries:
Where fighs and looks are bought and fold;
And love is made but to be told:
Where the fat bawd, and lavish heir
The spoils of rain'd beauty fhare:
And youth feduced from friends and fame,
Muft give up age to want and shame.
Let her behold the frantic scene,
The women wretched, falfe the men:
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