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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;
Envy presumes not to disturb her there,
Envy, wherewith th' unhandsome teaze the fair.
Her shining look exalts the gazing swain,
But, oh! within he feels consuming pain.
So sparkling flames raise water to a smile,

Yet the pleas'd liquor pines, and lessens all the while.

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!
Oh that becoming negligence of air !

There's something curious in her want of care.
Here Love may with inconstancy agree,

For one 's variety, one such as she.

Captivity, so caus'd, we proudly bless,

And zealous to be slaves, nor wish our fetters less.

Attractive SQUIRE, with endless pleasure 's seen, Oh, trifling grandeur of the Cyprian Queen! Only three Graces form'd her highest state, But thousand Graces on this Venus wait. Impossible for eyes to take their fill! There's something eminently winning still; A novelty of charms salutes the sight,

More sweet than blossoms, and more gay than light; Two powerful passions, when we gaze, we prove ; Joy revels in our looks, and in our bosoms Love.

Well LANGTON's name becomes the radiant list: Who can her praise refuse, her power resist ? Was ever nymph thus exquisitely wrought? Seems she not almost lovely to a fault ? At once so many crowding wonders press,

Ev'n more she'd charm us, if she charm'd us less,
Have you not seen on Anna's pompous day,

A thousand objects all profusely gay?
Such numbers only not oppress'd the sight,

Yet less variety gives full delight.

See! see! th' alternate glories of the skies
Blend in her form, and all at once surprize;
Her rosy cheek the blush of morning shews,
Her dazling eyes the mid-day sun disclose ;
Her air resembles well the milky way,

There Stars unnumber'd shine, here Loves unnumber'd play.

O! why did Heaven, which thus adorn'd the fair,
And made the workmanship so much its care,
Not with soft pity temper all the rest,

And place this kind reliever in her breast?

Still poor camelions, we must live on air,

She thinks a look too much-the lover's smallest fare.

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;
Bid her appear and bless the longing sight:
Retirement's wrong for youth, for age 'tis right.
Say, that her presence to the world is due :
Aspects so brilliant are ordain'd for view.
The Sun, whose glory's but to match her eyes,
Flashes diffusive beams, and brightens all the skies.

Certain as Fate, and swift as feather'd darts,
Oh, WILLIAMSON! thy arrows pierce our hearts;
Once with an equal right to glory shin'd
A signal charmer of thy own bright kind;
Once-but remorseless death too quickly seiz'd
This finish'd object, that so vastly pleas'd;
No respite from concern our souls could find,
Did she not leave thee here, a wonder still behind.

Like banks adorn'd with Nature's flowery train,
ALSTON'S Sweet look delights th' admiring swain :
Pleas'd, not content, he lets his wishes rise,
And would regale more senses than his eyes,
But, hid in bloom, that serpent, scorn, destroys
The lover's fondest hopes, and poisons all his joys.

The DASHWOODS are a family of charms, Each Nymph's appointed with resistless arms, So soft, so sweet, so artless, and so young,

Pride of the sight, and pleasure of the tongue.
Dearly we pay for such immoderate light,
Beauty's, like Love, severely exquisite ;
Our souls are wound to that excessive height,
We suffer, not enjoy, the vast delight.

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?
How gay the minutes fly, when she's the toast!

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