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Affection dies a vernal flower;
The dear illusions will not last;
withhold, Let my
affections ne'er grow old; Ne'er may the human glow depart, Nor nature yield to frigid art! Still may the generous bosom burn, Though doom'd to bloed o'er beauty's urn; And still the friendly face appear, Though moisten’d with a tender tear.
WHAT SHALL I BRING THEE, MOTHER?
"I require nothing of thee," said a mother to her innocent son, when bidding him farewell, “but that you will bring me back your present countenance." Lavater.
“What shall I bring to thee, mother mine?
What shall I bring to thee?
In the depths of the shadowy sea ?
By the wondering world entwined,
And smile o'er a clouded mind?
Of knowledge, the high and free,
Of classic Italy ?"
Thou art the gem I prize!
Will be where thy vessel Aies !
By the life-blood of the brave,
The smile that mercy gave!
That opes to the lamp at night,
Goes out by the sickly light.
Bring me that shadowless eye!
ADVICE TO A LADY. THE counsels of a friend, Belinda, hear, Too roughly kind to please a lady's ear, Unlike the flatteries of a lover's pen, Such truths as women seldom learn from men. Nor think I praise you ill, when thus I show What female vanity might fear to know. Some merit 's mine, to dare to be sincere; But greater yours, sincerity to bear. Hard is the fortune that your sex attends ; Women, like princes, find few real friends : All who approach them their own ends pursue ; Lovers and ministers are seldom true. Hence oft from reason heedless beauty strays, And the most trusted guide the most betrays: Hence, by fond dreams of fancied power amused, When most ye tyrannize, you're most abused What is your sex's earliest, latest care, Your heart's supreme ambition ?-To be fair. For this the toilet every thought employs, Hence all the toils of dress, and all the joys: For this hands, lips, and eyes, are put to school, And each instructed feature has its rule: And yet how few have learnt when this is given, Not to disgrace the partial boon of heaven! How few with all their pride of form can move ! How few are lovely, that are made for love! Do you, my fair, endeavour to possess An elegance of mind as well as dress; Be that your ornament, and know to please By graceful nature's unaffected ease. Nor make to dangerous wit a vain pretence, But wisely rest content with modest sense ; For wit, like wine, intoxicates the brain, Too strong for feeble woman to sustain : Of those who claim it, more than half have none; And half of those who have it are undone.
Be still superior to your sex's arts,
you, the plainest is the wisest rule: A cunning woman is a knavish fool.
Seek to be good, but aim not to be great: A woman's noblest station is retreat : Her fairest virtues fly from public sight, Domestic worth, that shuns too strong a light. To rougher man ambition's task resign: "T is ours in senates or in courts to shine; To labour for a sunk corrupted state, Or dare the rage of envy and be great. One only care your gentle breasts should move, Th' important business of your life is love : To this great point direct your constant aim, This makes your happiness, and this your fame Be never cool reserve with passion join'd; With caution choose; but then be fondly kind. The selfish heart, that but by halves is given, Shall find no place in love's delightful heaven; Here sweet extremes alone can truly bless : The virtue of a lover is excess. A maid unmask'd may own a well-placed flame; Not loving first, but loving wrong, is shame. Contemn the little pride of giving pain, Nor think that conquest justifies disdain. Short is the period of insulting power: Offended Cupid finds his vengeful hour; Soon will resume the empire which he gave, And soon the tyrant shall become the slave. Bless'd is the maid, and worthy to be bless'd, Whose soul, entire by him she loves possess'd, Feels every vanity in fondness lost, And asks no power but that of pleasing most:
Here is the bliss, in just return, to prove
E'en in the happiest choice, where favouring heaven