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In simple manners all the secret lies ;

There is no woman, where there's no reserve ; Be kind and virtuous, you 'll be blest and wise. And ’tis on plenty your poor lovers starve. Vain show and noise intoxicate the brain,

But with a modern fair, meridian merit Begin with giddiness, and end in pain.

Is a fierce thing, they call a nymph of spirit. Affect not empty fame, and idle praise,

Mark well the rollings of her flaming eye; Which, all those wretches I describe, betrays. And tread on tiptoe, if you dare draw nigh. Your sex's glory 'tis, to shine unknown ;

Or if you take a lion by the beard,* Of all applause, be fondest of your own.

Or dare defy the fell Hyrcanian pard, Beware the fever of the mind! that thirst

Or arm'd rhinoceros, or rough Russian bear," With which the age is eminently curst:

First make your will, and then converse with her.
To drink of pleasure, but inflames desire ; This lady glories in profuse expense ;
And abstinence alone can quench the fire; And thinks distraction is magnificence.
Take pain from life, and terror from the tomb; To beggar her gallant is some delight;
Give peace in hand ; and promise bliss to come. To be more fatal still, is exquisite;

Had ever nymph such reason to be glad ?
In duel fell two lovers; one run mad ;

Her foes their honest execrations pour;
SATIRE VI.

Her lovers only should detest her more.

Flavia is constant to her old gallant,
ON WOMEN.

And generously supports him in his want

But marriage is a fetter, is a snare,
INSCRIBED TO THE RIGHT HON. THE LADY

A hell, no lady so polite can bear.
ELIZABETH GERMAIN.

She's faithful, she's observant, and with pains Interdum tamen et tollit comedia vocem.--Hor.

Her angel-brood of bastards she maintains.

Nor least advantage has the fair to plead, I sought a patroness, but sought in vain.

But that of guilt above the marriage-bed. A pollo whisper'd in my ear—“Germain.”—

Amasia hates a prude, and scorns restraint; I know her not." Your reason's somewhat odd ; Whate'er she is, she'll not appear a saint: Who knows his patron, now?" replied the god. Her soul superior flies formality; “ Men write, to me, and to the world, unknown; So gay her air, her conduct is so free, Then steal great names, to shield them from the Some might suspect the nymph not over-good.town:

Nor would they be mistaken, if they should. Detected worth, like beauty disarray'd,

Unmarried Abra puts on formal airs; To covert flies, of praise itself afraid ;

Her cushion's threadbare with her constant prayer Should she refuse to patronize your lays,

Her only grief is, that she cannot be In vengeance write a volume in her praise. At once engag'd in prayer and charity. Nor think it hard so great a length to run;

And this, to do her justice, must be said, When such the theme, 'twill easily be done." “Who would not think that Abra was a maid ?"

Ye fair! to draw your excellence at length, Some ladies are too beauteous to be wed; Exceeds the narrow bounds of human strength; For where's the man that's worthy of their bed ? You, here, in miniature your picture see ;

If no disease reduce her pride before, Nor hope from Zinck more justice than from me. Lavinia will be ravish'd at threescore. My portraits grace your mind, as his your side ; Then she submits to venture in the dark ; His portraits will inflame, mine quench, your pride: And nothing now is wanting—but her spark. He's dear, you frugal ; choose my cheaper lay; Lucia thinks happiness consists in state ; And be your reformation all my pay.

She weds an idiot, but she eats in plate. Lavinia is polite, but not profane ;

The goods of fortune, which her soul possess, To church as constant as to Drury-lane.

Are but the ground of unmade happiness ; She decently, in form, pays Heaven its due; The rude material : wisdom add to this, And makes a civil visit to her pew.

Wisdom, the sole artificer of bliss ;
Her lifted fan, to give a solemn air,

She from herself, if so compellid by need,
Conceals her face, which passes for a prayer : of thin content can draw the subile thread;
Curt’sies to curt'sies, then, with grace, succeed; But (no detraction to her sacred skill)
Not one the fair omits, but at the Creed.

If she can work in gold, 'tis better still.
Or, if she joins the service, 'tis to speak;

If Tullia had been blest with half her sense, Through dreadful silence the pent heart might break: None could too much admire her excellence : Untaught to bear it, women talk away

But since she can make error shine so bright, To God himself, and fondly think they pray. She thinks it vulgar to defend the right. But sweet their accent, and their air refind ; With understanding she is quite o'errun; For they're before their Maker-and mankind : And by too great accomplishments undone : When ladies once are proud of praying well, With skill she vibrates her eternal tongue, Satan himself will toll the parish-bell.

For ever most divinely in the wrong. Acquainted with the world, and quite well-bred, Naked in nothing should a woman be; Drusa receives her visitants in bed ;

But veil her very wit with modesty : But, chaste as ice, this Vesta, to defy

Let men discover, let not her display, The very blackest tongue of calumny,

But yield her charms of mind with sweet delay When from the sheets her lovely form she lifts, For pleasure form’d, perversely some believe, She begs you just would turn you, while she shifts. To make themselves important, men must grieve.

Those charms are greatest which decline the sight, That makes the banquet poignant and polite.

* Shakspeare.

Lesbia the fair, to fire her jealous lord,

For difficult amours can smooth the way, Pretends, the fop she laughs al, is ador'd.

And tender letters diclate, or convey. In vain she's proud of secret innocence ;

But, if depriv'd of such important cares, The fact she seigns were scarce a worse offence. Her wisdom condescends 10 less affairs.

Mira, endow'd with every charm to bless, For her own breakfast she'll project a scheme, Has no design, but on her husband's peace :

Nor take her lea without a stralagem; He lov'd her much; and greatly was he mov'd Presides o'er trifles with a serious face; At small inquietudes in her he lov'd.

Important, by the virtue of grimace. “ How charming this !”—The pleasure lasted long; Ladies supreme among amusements reign ; Now every day the fits come thick and strong : By nature born to soothe, and entertain. At last he found the charmer only feign'd ; Their prudence in a share of folly lies : And was diverted when he should be pain’d. Why will they be so weak, as to be wise ? What greater vengeance have the gods in store ? Syrena is for ever in extremes, How tedious life, now she can plague no more! And with a vengeance she commends, or blames She tries a thousand arts; but none succeed : Conscious of her discernment, which is good, She's forc'd a sever to procure indeed :

She strains too much to make it understood. Thus strictly prov'd this virtuous, loving wife, Her judgment just, her sentence is too strong ; Her husband's pain was dearer than her life. Because she's right, she's ever in the wrong. Anxious Melania rises to my view,

Brunetta 's wise in actions, great, and rare : Who never thinks her lover pays his due : But scorns on trifles to bestow her care. Visit, present, treat, Natter, and adore ;

Thus every hour Brunetta is to blame, Her majesty, to-morrow, calls for more.

Because th' occasion is beneath her aim. His wounded ears complaints eternal fill,

Think nought a trifie, though it small appear; As unoild hinges, querulously shrill.

Small sands the mountain, moments make the year You went last night with Celia to the ball." And trifles life. Your care to trifles give, You prove it false. “ Not go! that's worst of all." Or you may die, before you truly live. Nothing can please her, nothing not inflame;

Go breakfast with Alicia, there you'll see,
And arrant contradictions are the same.

Simpler mundiliis, to the last degree:
Her lover must be sad, to please her spleen; Unlac'd her stays, her night-gown is unlied,
His mirth is an inexpiable sin;

And what she has of head-dress, is aside.
For of all rivals that can pain her breast,

She draws her words, and waddles in her pace; There's one, that wounds far deeper than the rest; Unwash'd her hands, and much besnuff"'d her face To wreck her quiet, the most dreadful shelf A nail uncut, and head uncomb’d, she loves; Is if her lover dares enjoy himself.

And would draw on jack-boots, as soon as gloves. And this, because she's exquisitely fair: Gloves by queen Bess's maidens might be mist; Should I dispute her beauty, how she'd stare ! Her blessed eyes ne'er saw a female fist. How would Melania be surpris'd to hear

Lovers, beware! to wound how can she fail, She's quite deform'd! And yet the case is clear; With scarlet finger, and long jetty nail ? What's female beauty, but an air divine,

For Harvey, the first wit she cannot be, Through which the mind's all-gentle graces shine ? Nor, cruel Richmond, the first toast, for thee. They, like the Sun, irradiate all between;

Since full each other station of renown, T'he body charms because the soul is seen.

Who would not be the greatest trapes in town? Hence, men are ofien captives of a face,

Women were made to give our eyes delight;
They know not why, of no peculiar grace: A female sloven is an odious sight.
Some forms, though bright, no morial man can bear ; Fair Isabella is so fond of fame,
Some, none resist, though not exceeding fair. That her dear self is her eternal theme ;
Aspasia's highly born, and nicely bred,

Through hopes of contradiction, oft she'll say Of laste refin'd, in life and manners read;

• Methinks I look so wretchedly to-day!" Yet reaps no fruit from her superior sense,

When most the world applauds you, most beware, But to be leas'd by her own excellence.

"Tis often less a blessing than a snare. “ Folks are so awkward ! Things so unpolite !" Distrust mankind ; with your own heart confer; She's elegantly pain'd from morn till night. And dread even there to find a fauterer. Her delicacy's shock'd where'er she goes; The breath of others raises our renown; Each crealure's imperfections are her woes. Our own as surely blows the pageant down. Heaven by its favor has the fair distrest,

Take up no more than you by worth can claim, And pour d such blessings—that she can't be blest. Lest soon you prove a bankrupt in your fame.

Ah! why so vain, though blooming in thy spring ? But own I must, in this perverted age, Thou shining, frail, ador'd, and wretched thing! Who most deserve, can't always most engage. Old-age will come; disease may come before ; So far is worth from making glory sure, Fifteen is full as mortal as threescore.

It often hinders what it should procure. Thy fortune, and thy charms, may soon decay: Whom praise we most? The virtuous, brave, and wise! But grant these fugitives prolong their stay, No; wretches, whom, in secret, we despise. Their basis touters, their foundation shakes; And who so blind, as not to see the cause ? Liso, that supports them, in a moment breaks ; No rivals rais'd by such discreet applause ; Then wrought into the soul let virtues shine ; And yet, of credit it lays in a store, The ground eternal, as the work divine.

By which our spleen may wound true worth the more. Julia's a manager; she's born for rule ;

Ladies there are who think one crime is all : And knows her wiser husband is a fool ;

Can women, ihen, no way but backward fall ? Assemblies holds, and spins the subtle thread So sweet is that one crime they don't pursue That guides the lover to his fair-one's bed:

To pay its loss, they think all others few.

Who hold that crime so dear, must never claim Grand reservoirs of public happiness,
Of injur'd modesty the sacred name.

Through secret streams diffusively they bless,
But Clio thus: “What! railing without end ? And, while their bounties glide, conceal’d from view,
Mean task! how much more generous to com- Relieve our wants, and spare our blushes too.
mend !"

But Satire is my task; and these destroy Yes, to commend as you are wont to do,

Her gloomy province, and malignant joy. My kind instructor, and example too.

Help me, ye misers! help me to complain, “Daphnis,” says Clio, “ has a charming eye: And blast our common enemy, Germain : What pity 'tis her shoulder is awry!

But our invectives must despair success; Aspasia's shape indeed—But then her air- For, next to praise, she values nothing less. The man has parts who finds destruction there. What picture's yonder, loosen'd from its frame? Almeria's wit has something that's divine; Or is 't Asturia, that affected dame? And wit's enough—how few in all things shine! The brightest forms, through affectation, sade Selina serves her friends, relieves the poor- To strange new things, which Nature never made. » Who was it said Selina 's near threescore?

Frown not, ye fair! so much your sex we prize, At Lucia's match I from my soul rejoice; We hate those arts that take you from our eyes. The world congratulates so wise a choice; In Albucinda's native grace is seen His lordship’s rent-roll is exceeding great

What you, who labor at perfection, mean. But mortgages will sap the best estate.

Short is the rule, and to be learnt with ease, In Shirley's form might cherubims appear; Retain your gentle selves, and you must please But then—she has a freckle on her ear.

Here might I sing of Memmia's mincing mien, Without a but, Hortensia she commends,

And all the movements of the soft machine :
The first of women, and the best of friends; How two red lips affected Zephyrs blow,
Owns her in person, wit, fame, virtue bright; To cool the bohea, and inflame the beau :
But how comes this to pass ?—She died last night. While one white finger and a thumb conspire

Thus nymphs commend, who yet at Satire rail : To lift the cup, and make the world admire.
Indeed that's needless, if such praise prevail. Tea! how I tremble at thy fatal stream!
And whence such praise? Our virulence is thrown As Lethe, dreadful to the Love of Fame.
On others' fame, through fondness for our own. What devastations on thy banks are seen!

Of rank and riches proud, Cleora frowns; What shades of mighty names which once have been For are not coronets akin to crowns?

A hecatomb of characters supplies Her greedy eye, and her sublime address, Thy painted altars' daily sacrifice. The height of avarice and pride confess.

H—;P-, B-, aspers'd by thee, decay, You seek perfections worthy of her rank; As grains of finest sugars melt away, Go, seek for her perfections at the Bank.

And recommend thee more to mortal taste ; By wealth unquench'd, by reason uncontroll’d, Scandal's the sweetener of a female feast. For ever burns her sacred thirst of gold.

But this inhuman triumph shall decline, As fond of five-pence, as the veriest cit;

And thy revolting Naiads call for wine ;
And quite as much detested as a wit.

Spirits no longer shall serve under thee;
Can gold calm passion, or make reason shine ? But reign in thy own cup, exploded tea !
Can we dig peace, or wisdom, from the mine? Citronia's nose declares thy ruin nigh,
Wisdom to gold prefer; for 'tis much less And who dares give Citronia's nose the lie?
To make our fortune, than our happiness.

The ladies long at men of drink exclaim'd,
That happiness which great ones often see, And what impair’d both health and virtue, blam'd.
With rage and wonder, in a low degree;

At length, to rescue man, the generous lass Themselves unblest. The poor are only poor ! Stole from her consort the pernicious glass ; But what are they who droop amid their store ! As glorious as the British queen renown’d, Nothing is meaner than a wretch of state ; Who suck'd the poison from her husband's wound The happy only are the truly great.

Nor to the glass alone are nymphs inclin'd, Peasants enjoy like appetites with kings; But every bolder vice of bold mankind. And those best satisfied with cheapest things. O Juvenal! for thy severer rage! Could both our Indies buy but one new sense, To lash the ranker follies of our age. Our envy would be due to large expense.

Are there, among the females of our isle, Since not, those pomps which to the great belong, Such faults, at which it is a fault to smile ? Are but poor arts to mark them from the throng. There are. Vice, once by modest Nature chain'd See how they beg an alms of flattery!

And legal ties, expatiates unrestrain'd; They languish! oh support them with a lie ! Without thin decency held up to view, A decent competence we fully taste ;

Naked she stalks o'er Law and Gospel too. It strikes our sense, and gives a constant feast : Our matrons lead such exemplary lives, More, we perceive by dint of thought alone; Men sigh in vain for none but for their wives; The rich must labor to possess their own,

Who marry to be free, to range the more, To feel their great abundance; and request And wed one man, to wanton with a score. Their humble friends to help them to be blest ; Abroad too kind, at home 'tis stedfast hate, To see their treasures, hear their glory told, And one eternal tempest of debate. And aid the wretched impotence of gold. What foul eruptions, from a look most meek! But some, great souls! and touch'd with warmth What thunders bursting, from a dimpled cheek! divine,

Their passions bear it with a lofty hand ! Give gold a price, and teach its beams to shine. But then, their reason is at due command. All hoarded treasures they repute a load; Is there whom you detest, and seek his life? Nor think their wealth their own, till well bestow'd. Trust no soul with the secret—but his wife.

Wives wonder that their conduct I condemn, Virtue's a pretty thing to make a show :
And ask, what kindred is a spouse to them? Did ever mortal write like Rouchefoucauli?"

What swarms of amorous grandmothers I see! Thus pleads the Devil's fair apologist,
And misses, ancient in iniquity!

And, pleading, safely enters on his list.
What blasting whispers, and what loud declaiming ! Let angel-forms angelic truths maintain ;
What lying, drinking, bawding, swearing, gaming ! Nature disjoins the beauteous and profane.
Friendship so cold, such warm incontinence; For what's true beauty, but fair viriue's face?
Such griping avarice, such profuse expense ; Virtue made visible in outward grace?
Such dead devotion, such a zeal for crimes ; She, then, that's haunted with an impious mind,
Such licens'd ill, such masquerading times ; The more she charms, the more she shocks mankind.
Such venal faith, such misapplied applause ;

But charms decline: the fair long vigils keep :
Such flatter'd guilt, and such inverted laws! They sleep no more! Quadrille has murder'd slero.*

Such dissolution through the whole I find, “ Poor K-p!" cries Livia ; " I have not been ibare "Tis not a world, but chaos of mankind.

These two nights; the poor creature will despais
Since Sundays have no balls, the well-dress'd belle I hate a crowd—but to do good, you know-
Shines in the pew, but smiles to hear of Hell; And people of condition should bestow.”
And casts an eye of sweet disdain on all

Convinc'd, o'ercome, to K-p's grave matrons ru $
Who listen less to Collins than St. Paul.

Now set a daughter, and now stake a son ; Atheists have been but rare; since Nature's birth, Let health, fame, temper, beauty, fortune, fly; Till now, she-atheists ne'er appeard on Earth. And beggar half their race-through charity. Ye men of deep researches, say, whence springs Immortal were we, or else mortal quile, This daring character, in timorous things?

I less should blame this criminal delight: Who start at feathers, from an insec! fly,

But since the gay asserubly's gayest room
A match for nothing-but the Deity.

Is but an upper story to some tomb,
But, not to wrong the fair, the Muse must own Methinks, we need not our short being shun,
In this pursuit they court not fame alone ; And, thought to fly, contend to be undone.
But join to that a more substantial view,

We need not buy our ruin with our crime ;
"From thinking free, to be free agents too." And give eternity to murder time.
They strive with their own hearts, and keep them The love of gaming is the worst of ills ;
down,

With ceaseless storms the blacken'd soul it fills; In complaisance to all the fools in town.

Inveighs at Heaven, neglects the ties of blood;
O how they tremble at the name of prude! Destroys the power and will of doing good ;
And die with shame at thought of being good! Kills health, pawns honor, plunges in disgrace,
For what will Artimis, the rich and gay,

And, what is still more dreadful-spoils your faco
What will the wits, that is, the coxcombs, say ? See yonder set of thieves that live on spoil,
They Heaven defy, to Earth's vile dregs a slave; The scandal and the ruin of our isle!
Through cowardice, most execrably brave. And see (strange sight!) amid that ruffian band,
With our own judgments durst we to comply, A form divine high wave her snowy hand;
In virtue should we live, in glory die.

That rattles loud a small enchanted box,
Rise then, my Muse, in honest fury rise ;

Which, loud as thunder, on the board she knocks. They dread a Satire, who defy the skies.

And as fierce storms, which Earth's foundation Atheists are few: most nymphs a Godhead own;

shook, And nothing but his attributes dethrone.

From Æolus's cave impetuous broke, From atheists far, they sted fastly believe

From this small cavern a mix’d tempest flies, God is, and is Almighty—io forgive.

Fear, rage, convulsion, tears, oaths, blasphemies! His other excellence they'll not dispute;

For men, I mean, the fair discharges none; But mercy, sure, is his chief attribute.

She (guiltless creature!) swears to Heaven alone. Shall pleasures of a short duration chain

See her eyes start! cheeks glow! and muscles A lady's soul in everlasting pain ?

swell! Will the great Author us poor worms destroy, Like the mad maid in the Cumean cell. For now and then a sip of transient joy?

Thus that divine one her soft nights employs! No, he's for ever in a smiling mood;

Thus tunes her soul to tender nuptial joys!
He's like themselves; or how could he be good ? And when the cruel morning calls to bed,
And they blaspheme, who blacker schemes suppose. And on her pillow lays her aching head,
Devoutly, thus, Jehovah they depose,

With the dear images her dreams are crown'd,
The pure! the just! and set up, in his stead, The die spins lovely, or the cards go round;
A deity, that's perfectly well-bred.

Imaginary ruin charms her still;
• Dear Tillotson! be sure the best of men; Her happy lord is cuckold by spadille:
Nor thought he more, than thought great Origen. And if she's bronght to bed, 'tis ten to one,
Though once upon a time he misbehav'd;

He marks the forehead of her darling son.
Poor Satan! doubtless, he'll at length be sav'd. O scene of horror, and of wild despair,
Let priests do something for their one in ten; Why is the rich Atrides' splendid heir
It is their trade ; so far they're honest men. Constrain'd to quit his ancient lordly seat,
Let them cant on, since they have got ihe knack, And hide his glories in a mean retreat ?
And dress their notions, like themselves, in black; Why that drawn sword ? and whence that dismul
Fright us with terrors of a world unknown,
From joys of this, 10 keep them all their own. Why pale distraction through the family?
Of Earth's fair fruits, indeed, they claim a fee;
But then they leave our untilh'd virtue free.

1 1

* Shakspeare.

cry?

See my lord threaten, and my lady weep,
And trembling servants from the tempest creep.

SATIRE VII.
Why that gay son to distant regions sent?
What fiends that daughter's destin'd match prevent?

TO THE RIGHT HON. SIR ROBERT WALPOLE
Why the whole house in sudden ruin laid,
O nothing, but last night—my lady play'd.

Carmina tum melius, cum venerit Jpse, canemus.
But wanders not my Satire from her theme?

Virg.
Is this too owing to the love of fame?
Though now your hearts on lucre are bestow'd,

On this last labor, this my closing strain,
'Twas first a vain-devotion to the mode ;

Smile, Walpole, or the Nine inspire in vain :
Nor cease we here, since 'tis a vice so strong;

To thee, 'uis due; that verse how justly thine,
The torrent sweeps all woman-kind along.

Where Brunswick's glory crowns the whole design'
This may be said, in honor of our times,

That glory, which thy counsels make so bright;
That none now stand distinguish'd by their crimes. That glory, which on thee reflects a light.
If sin you must, take Nature for your guide:

Illustrious commerce, and but rarely known,
Love has some soft excuse to soothe your pride :

To give, and take, a lustre from the throne.

Nor think that thou art foreign to my theme;
Ye fair a postates from love's ancient power!
Can nothing ravish, but a golden shower ?

The fountain is not foreign to the stream.

How all mankind will be surpris'd to see
Can cards alone your glowing fancy seize;
Must Cupid learn to punt, e'er he can please ?

This flood of British folly charg'd on thee!
When you're enamour'd, of a lift or cast,

Say, Britain! whence this caprice of thy sons,
What can the preacher more, to make us chaste ?

Which through their various ranks with fury runs ?

The cause is plain, a cause which we must bless;
Why must strong youths unmarried pine away?
They find no woman disengag'd-from play.

For caprice is the daughter of success.
Why pine the married 2-0 severer fate!

(A bad effect, but from a pleasing cause !)
They find from play no disengag'd-estate.

And gives our rulers undesign’d applause ;
Flavia, at lovers false, untouch'd, and hard,

Tells how their conduct bids our wealth increase,
Turns pale, and trembles at a cruel card.

And lulls us in the downy lap of peace.
Nor Arria's Bible can secure her age ;

While I survey the blessings of our isle,
Her threescore years are shuffling with her page.

Her arts triumphant in the royal smile,
While Death stands by, but till the game is done,

Her public wounds bound up, her credit high,
To sweep that stake, in justice, long his own ;

Her commerce spreading sails in every sky,
Like old cards ting'd with sulphur, she takes fire ;

The pleasing scene recalls my theme again,
Or, like snuffs sunk in sockets, blazes higher.

And shows the madness of ambitious men,
Ye gods! with new delights inspire the fair ;

Who, fond of bloodshed, draw the murdering sword,
Or give us sons, and save us from despair.

And burn to give mankind a single lord.
Sons, brothers, fathers, husbands, tradesmen,

The follies past are of a private kind;
close

Their sphere is small; their mischief is confin'd :
In my complaint, and brand your sins in prose :

But daring men there are (awake, my Muse,
Yet I believe, as firmly as my Creed,

And raise thy verse!) who bolder frenzy choose :
In spite of all our wisdom, you'll proceed :

Who, stung by glory, rave, and bound away :
Our pride so great, our passion is so strong,

The world their field, and human-kind their prey.
Advice to right confirms us in the wrong.

The Grecian chief, th' enthusiast of his pride,
I hear you cry, "This fellow's very odd."

With Rage and Terror stalking by his side,
When you chastise, who would not kiss the rod ?

Raves round the globe; he soars into a god!
But I've a charm your anger shall control,

Stand fast, Olympus! and sustain his nod.
And turn your eyes with coldness on the vole.

The pest divine in horrid grandeur reigns,
The charm begins! To yonder flood of light,

And thrives on mankind's miseries and pains.
That bursts o'er gloomy Britain, turn your sight.

What slaughter'd hosts! what cities in a blaze ! What guardian power o’erwhelms your souls with What wasted countries! and what crimson seas ! awe?

With orphans' tears his impious bowl o'erslows, Her deeds are precepts, her example law;

And cries of kingdoms lull him to repose. 'Midst empire's charms, how Carolina's heart

And cannot thrice ten hundred years unpraise
Glows with the love of virtue, and of art!

The boisterous boy, and blast his guilty bays ?
Her favor is diffus'd to that degree,

Why want we then encomiums on the storm,
Excess of goodness! it has dawn'd on me :

Or famine, or volcano ? They perform
When in my page, to balance numerous faults.

Their mighty deeds; they, hero-like, can slay,
Or godlike deeds were shown, or generous thoughts, and spread their ample deserts in a day.
She smil'd, industrious to be pleas'd, nor knew

O great alliance! O divine renown!
From whom my pen the borrow'd lustre drew.

With dearth, and pestilence, to share the crown.
Thus the majestic mother of mankind,*

When men extol a wild destroyer's name,
To her own charms most amiably blind,

Earth's Builder and Preserver they blaspheme.
On the green margin innocently stood,

One to destroy, is murder by the law;
And gaz'd indulgent on the crystal flood;

And gibbets keep the lifted hand in awe;
Survey'd the stranger in the painted wave,

To murder thousands, takes a specious name,
And, smiling, prais'd the beauties which she gave.

War’s glorious art, and gives immortal fame.

When, after battle, I the field have seen

Spread o'er with ghastly shapes, which once wero Milton.

men;

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