A beardless miser! 'Tis a guilt unknown
To former times, a scandal all our own.

Of ardent lovers, the true modern band
Will mortgage CELIA to redeem their land.
For love, young, noble, rich, CASTALIO dies:
Name but the fair, love swells into his eyes.
Divine MONIMIA, thy fond fears lay down ;
No rival can prevail,—but half a crown.

He glories to late times to be convey'd Not for the poor he has reliev'd but made: Not such ambition his great fathers fir'd, When HARRY conquer'd, and half France expir'd? He'd be a slave, a pimp, a dog, for gain : Nay, a dull sheriff, for his golden chain.

"Who'd be a slave?" the gallant Colonel cries, While love of glory sparkles from his eyes: To deathless fame he loudly pleads his right,— Just is his title, for he will not fight: All soldiers valour, all divines have grace, As maids of honour beauty,-by their place: But, when indulging on the last campaign, His lofty terms climb o'er the hills of slain; He gives the foes he slew, at each vain word, A sweet revenge, and half absolves his sword. Of boasting more than of a bomb afraid, A soldier should be modest as a maid: Fame is a bubble the reserv'd enjoy;

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Who strive to grasp it, as they touch, destroy:
'Tis the world's debt to deeds of high degree;
But if you pay yourself, the world is free.

Were there no tongue to speak them but his own, AUGUSTUS' deeds in arms had ne'er been known. AUGUSTUS' deeds! if that ambiguous name Confounds my reader, and misguides his aim, Such is the Prince's worth, of whom I speak, The ROMAN would not blush at the mistake.

SATIRE V.

ON WOMEN.

O fairest of creation! last and best

Of all God's works! Creature in whom excell'd
Whatever can to sight, or thought, be form'd
Holy, divine, good, amiable, or sweet!
How art thou lost!.

MILTON.

NOR reigns ambition in bold man alone;
Soft female hearts the rude invader own:
But there, indeed, it deals in nicer things,
Than routing armies, and dethroning kings:
Attend, and you discern it in the fair
Conduct a finger, or reclaim a hair;
Or roll the lucid orbit of an eye;

Or, in full joy, elaborate a sigh.

The sex we honour, tho' their faults we blame; Nay, thank their faults for such a fruitful theme: A theme, fair -! doubly kind to me, Since satyrizing those is praising thee; Who would'st not bear, too modestly refin'd, A panegyric of a grosser kind.

BRITANNIA's daughters, much more fair than nice, Too fond of admiration, lose their price; Worn in the public eye, give cheap delight To throngs, and tarnish so the sated sight; As unreserv'd, and beauteous, as the sun, Through every sign of vanity they run; Assemblies, Parks, coarse feasts in City-halls, Lectures, and Trials, Plays, Committees, Balls, Wells, Bedlams, Executions, Smithfield scenes, And Fortune-tellers Caves, and Lions Dens, Taverns, Exchanges, Bridewells, Drawing-rooms, Installments, Pillories, Coronations, Tombs, Tumblers, and Funerals, Puppet-shows, Reviews, Sales, Races, Rabbets, (and still stranger !) Pews. CLARINDA's bosom burns, but burns for Fame; And Love lies vanquish'd in a nobler flame; Warm gleams of hope she, now, dispenses; then, Like April suns, dives into clouds again : With all her lustre, now, her lover warms; Then, out of ostentation, hides her charms: 'Tis, next, her pleasure sweetly to complain, And to be taken with a sudden pain; Then, she starts up, all ecstasy and bliss, And is sweet soul! just as sincere in this : O how she rolls her charming eyes in spite! And looks delightfully with all her might! But, like our heroes, much more brave than wise, She conquers for the triumph not the prize. ZARA resembles Etna crown'd with snows; Without she freezes, and within she glows:

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Love of Fame. Satire 5* Line 33.

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Published by Vernor & Hood. Poultry.