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Thee, CHETWYND, all that see thee strive to praise, And with insatiate longings still must gaze; Fresh springing glories every moment rise, And in new raptures hurl us to the skies. O! could I reach a harmony in sound, Like the fam'd sweetness of her aspect found, To yon bright sphere I'd raise the glittering dame, And with due numbers shake the pattern of her frame.
Thrice glorious NEWINGTON! how justly great! No charms are absent, and each charm 's compleat; All that have eyes thy beauties must confess, All that have tongues those beauties would express; They would-But, oh! the language scants the will, Nature's too strong for art, and baffles utmost skill. Born for command, yet mov'd from public view, As cloy'd with power, and weary'd to subdue; To silent shades I see the victor run,
And rest beneath the virtues which she won;
Where charming HEALE appears, she treads on spoils,
Our sex are vassals, and her own are foils;
Such a peculiar elegance of face!
So many sweetnesses! such lively grace!
And zealous to be slaves, nor wish our fetters less.
Attractive SQUIRE, with endless pleasure's seen,
More sweet than blossoms, and more gay than light;
Well LANGTON's name becomes the radiant list:
A thousand objects all profusely gay }
Yet less variety gives full delight.
There Stars unnumber'd shine, here Loves unnumber'd play.
O! why did Heaven, which thus adorn'd the fair,
And place this kind reliever in her breast?
Still poor camelions, we must live on air,
There's no way to be safe from HARTLEY'S darts, Nor light nor darkness can secure our hearts; Both eyes and ears are traitors to repose, Looking or listening, ends in amorous woes; Gods! when we see we're vanquish'd by her view, And, while we hear, her melting notes subdue. Muse, sing the nymph that's so compos'd for fame, Make Heaven and Earth acquainted with her name; Thyself, oh Nymph, to teach the Muse incline, For there's no perfect melody but thine; Then she might haply boast a warbling air, And form the song as sweet, as Nature form'd thee fair.
Reach distant MUNDY, Muse, with sounding
Th' excelling maid that wastes her time in plains;
Certain as Fate, and swift as feather'd darts,
Like banks adorn'd with Nature's flowery train,
The DASHWOODs are a family of charms,
Pride of the sight, and pleasure of the tongue.
Nor less renown'd in charms the HERVEYS stand: How fair they seem! how fashion'd for command! Each of herself might singly challenge praise, One were a tempting task for endless lays, Did not Another and Another shine, Splendid alike, and equally divine, As if imperial Beauty meant no more To reign at large, and spread her mighty power;
But with unequal favor would confine
Her numerous treasures to that darling Line.
Can SMITH unnoted pass, so fram'd for praise? Ev'n Britain's court grows brighter with her rays. Oh lovely conflict of her varying hue! Lily and Rose by grateful turns subdue. Promiscuous charms our ravish'd senses greet, Here April's bloom, and August's ripeness meet; Delights, which seem but to salute the year, Eternally reside, and florish here;
Who can express which season cheers him most?