The virtues of our sex and thine: Her hand restrains the widow's tears, Her sense informs, and sooths and cheers; Yet like an angel in disguise, She shines but to some favor'd eyes; Nor is the distant herd allow'd To view the radiance through the cloud. But thine is every winning art, EPISTLE XV. ΤΟ Α YOUNG LADY OF THIRTEEN. BY WILLIAM MELMOTH, ESQ; WHILE yet no amorous youths around thee bow, Let maids less bless'd employ their meaner arts To reign proud tyrants o'er unnumber'd hearts; May Sappho learn, for nobler triumphs born, Those little conquests of her sex to scorn. To form thy bosom to each generous deed; To plant thy mind with every useful seed ; Be these thy arts: nor spare the grateful toil, Where Nature's hand has bless'd the happy soil. So shalt thou know, with pleasing skill, to blend The lovely mistress, and instructive friend : So shalt thou know, when unrelenting Time Shall spoil those charms yet opening to their prime, To ease the loss of Beauty's transient flower, To hail the glowing lustre oft be mine, And shall the Muse with blameless boast pretend, Fair Praise inspir'd and Virtue warm'd her heart; Th' experienc'd sire prescribes th' adventurous height, THOUGH Strength of genius, by experience taught, Can aught of use impart, though void of skill, Shalt like, or, where thou canst not like, excuse, When first a generous mind surveys the great, And views the crowds that on their fortune wait, Pleas'd with the shew (though little understood), He only seeks the power, to do the good : Thinks, till he tries, 'tis godlike to dispose, And gratitude still springs, when bounty flows; That every grant sincere affection wins, And where our wants have end, our love begins. But they who long the paths of state have trod, Learn from the clamors of the murm'ring crowd, Which cramm'd, yet craving, still their gates besiege, 'Tis easier far to give, than to oblige. This of thy conduct seems the nicest part, Or soften a refusal into grace. But few there are that can be freely kind, |