This earthly ball with noise abounds,
And from its emptiness it sounds;
Fame's deaf'ning din, the hum of men,
The lawyers plea, the poet's pen;
But Women here no one fufpects,
Silence distinguishes that fex;
For, poor dumb things! fo meek's their mould,
You fcarce can hear 'em when they scold,
An hundred mouths, an hundred tongues,
An hundred pair of iron lungs,
Five heralds, and five thoufand criers,
With throats whofe accent never tirés,
Ten speaking-trumpets, of a fize
Would deafness with their din surprise,
Your praise, sweet nymphs, fhall fing and say,
And those that will believe it may.
But a fmooth and stedfast mind,
Gentle thoughts, and calm defires,
Hearts with equal love combin'd,
Kindle never dying fires.
Where these are not, I despise
Lovely cheeks, or lips, or eyes.
No tears, Celia, now fhall win
My refoly'd heart to return;
I have fearch'd thy foul within,
And find nought but pride, and fcorn;
I have learn'd thy arts, and now
Can difdain as much as thou.
Some power in my revenge convey,
That love to her I caft away.
BY WILLIAM PULTENEY ESQ*.
AIN are the charms of white and red,
Which paint the blooming fair;
Give me the nymph whofe fnow is spread
Not o'er her breast, but hair.
Of smoother cheeks the winning grace,
With open force defies;
But in the wrinkles of her face
Cupid in ambush lies.
If naked eyes fet hearts on blaze
And amorous warmth inspire ;
Through glafs, who darts her pointed rays,
Lights up a fiercer fire.
Nor rivals, nor the train of years,
My peace or bliss destroy;
Alive, the gives no jealous fears,
And dead, the crowns my joy.
HOUGH, Flavia, to my warm defire
You mean no kind return,
Yet ftill with undiminish'd fire
You wish to see me burn.
ELINDA, fee from yonder flow'rs
The bee flies loaded to its cell;
Can you perceive what it devours?
Are they impair'd in fhow or smell?
So, though I robb'd you of a kiss,
Sweeter than their ambrofial dew,
Why are you angry at my blifs?
Has it at all impoverish'd you?
"Tis by this cunning I contrive,
In fpite of your unkind reserve,
To keep my famish'd love alive,
Which you inhumanly would starve.
T is not that I love you lefs,
Than when before your feet I lay :
But, to prevent the fad increase
Of hopeless love, I keep away.
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