No faffron robe for us the godhead wears,
His torch inverted, and his face in tears.

Though every fofter wish were amply crown'd,

Love foon would cease to fmile where Fortune frown'd;
Then would thy foul my fond confent deplore,
And blame what it folicited before;
Thy own exhausted would reproach my truth,
And fay I had undone thy blinded youth;
That I had damp'd Ambition's nobler flame,
Eclips'd thy talents, and obfcur'd thy fame;
To madrigals and odes that wit confin'd,
That would in senates or in courts have shin'd,
Gloriously active in thy country's caufe,
Afferting freedom, and enacting laws.
Or fay, at beft, that negatively kind
You only mourn'd, and filently repin'd;
The jealous dæmons in my own fond breast
Would all these thoughts inceffantly fuggeft,
And all that fenfe muft feel, though pity had fuppreft.
Yet added grief my apprehenfion fills

(If there can be addition to those ills)

When they fhall cry, whofe harsh reproof I dread,
"Twas thy own deed, thy folly on thy head!"
Age knows not to allow for thoughtlefs youth,
Nor pities tenderness, nor honours truth;
Holds it romantic to confefs a heart,
And fays thofe virgins at a wifer partą

}

Who

Who hofpitals and bedlams would explore
To find the rich, and only dread the poor;
Who legal proftitutes, for int'reft fake,

Clodios and Timons to their bofoms take,
And, if avenging heav'n permit increase,
People the world with folly and disease.
Thofe titles, deeds, and rent-rolls only wed,
Whilft the best bidder mounts the venal bed,
And the grave aunt and formal fire approve
This nuptial fale, this auction of their love.
But if regard to worth or fense be shown,
That poor degenerate child her friends difown,
Who dares to deviate by a virtuous choice
From her great name's hereditary vice.

These scenes my prudence ushers to my mind,
Of all the ftorms and quickfands I must find,
If I embark upon this fummer fea,

Where Flatt'ry fmooths, and Pleafure gilds the way.
Had our ill fate ne'er blown thy dang'rous flame
Beyond the limits of a friend's cold name,

I might upon that score thy heart receive,
And with that guiltless name my own deceive;
That commerce now in vain you recommend,
I dread the latent lover in the friend;
Of ignorance I want the poor excufe,.
And know, I both must take, or both refuse.
Hear then the fafe, the firm resolve I make,
Ne'er to encourage one I must forfake.

2

Whilft

Whilft other maids a fhameless path pursue,
Neither to int'reft, nor to honour true,

And proud to fwell the triumph of their eyes,
Exult in love from lovers they despise;

Their maxims all revers'd I mean to prove,
And though I like the lover, quit the love.

EPISTLES in the Manner of OVID.

MONIMIA to PHILOCLE S.

By the Same.

INCE language never can describe my pain,

SINCE

How can I hope to move when I complain ?

But fuch is woman's frenzy in diftress,

We love to plead, though hopeless of redrefs.

Perhaps, affecting ignorance, thou'lt fay,
From whence these lines? whofe meffage to convey?
Mock not my grief with that feign'd cold demand,
Too well you know the hapless writer's hand :
But if you force me to avow my fhame,
Behold it prefac'd with Monimia's name.
Loft to the world, abandon'd and forlorn,
Expos'd to infamy, reproach and fçorn,

To

To mirth and comfort loft, and all for you,
Yet loft, perhaps, to your remembrance too,
How hard my lot! what refuge can I try,
Weary of life, and yet afraid to die!
Of hope, the wretch's last resort, bereft,
By friends, by kindred, by my lover, left.
Oh! frail dependence of confiding fools!
On lovers oaths, or friendship's facred rules,
How weak in modern hearts, too late I find,
Monimia's fall'n, and Philocles unkind!
To these reflections, each flow wearing day,
And each revolving night a conftant prey,
Think what I fuffer, nor ungentle hear
What madness dictates in my fond despair;
Grudge not this short relief, (too fast it flies)
Nor chide that weakness I myself despise.
One moment fure may be at least her due,
Who facrific'd her all of life for you.
Without a frown this farewel then receive,
For 'tis the laft my hapless love fhall give;
Nor this I would, if reafon could command,
But what reftriction reins a lover's hand ?

Nor prudence, shame, nor pride, nor int'rest sways,
The hand implicitly the heart obeys:

Too well this maxim has my conduct shewn,
Too well that conduct to the world is known.
Oft have I writ, and often to the flame
Condemn'd this after-witness of my fhame;

Oft

1

Oft in my cooler recollected thought,
Thy beauties, and my fondness half forgot,
(How fhort thofe intervals for reafon's aid!)
Thus to myself in anguish have I faid.

Thy vain remonftrance, foolish maid, give o'er,
Who act the wrong, can ne'er that wrong deplore.
Then fanguine hopes again delufive reign,

I form'd thee melting, as I tell my pain.
If not of rock thy flinty heart is made,
Nor tygers nurs'd thee in the defart shade,
Let me at least thy cold compaffion prove,
That flender fuftenance of greedy love;
Though no return my warmer wishes find,
Be to the wretch, though not the mistress, kind;
Nor whilst I court my melancholy state,

Forget 'twas love, and thee, that wrought my fate.
Without restraint habituate to range

The paths of pleasure, can I bear this change?
Doom'd from the world unwilling to retire,
In bloom of life, and warm with young defire,
In lieu of roofs with regal fplendor gay,
Condemn'd in diftant wilds to drag the day:
Where beafts of prey maintain their favage court,
Or human brutes (the worft of brutes) refort.
Yes, yes, the change I could unfighing fee,
For none I mourn, but what I find in thee,
There center all my woes, thy heart eftrang'd,
I weep my lover, not my fortune, chang'd;

Blefs'd