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Her eye with sparkling lustre glows,
And wit in sweetest accent flows.

Now sooth'd the angel's voice I hear, And drink in love at either ear; Now stung with wilder rapture gaze, While our eyes meet with blended rays; And kindling in th' infectious flame, I feel what words want pow'r to name.

Awaking from the silent trance, Cautious I steal a broken glance; In clam'rous mirth each pang disguise, And laughter swell with bursting sighs; For Envy, pallid fiend, was there, And Jealousy with watchful care.

Now ends the feast, each guest retires, And with them all my soul desires, Clarissa goes. Ah! cruel fate! She goes with her ill-sorted mate: Sullen and slow he moves along, And heavy hums a drowsy song. O drowsy may the monster lie, And instant slumbers seal his eye! So shalt thou, best belov'd, escape The horrors of a legal rape.

Or, should the brutish instinct goad, And thou must bear th' unwelcome load;

If struggle, pray'r, pretence be vain,
To shun what tyrant-laws ordain;
Ah! sparing deal our scanty dues,
And keep whate'er thou canst refuse!
Ah! give no bounding pulse to beat,
No cheek to glow with genial heat!
No breast to heave in am'rous play,
No limbs to twine, no hands to stray;
But sluggish press the joyless bed,
And lie in cold indiff'rence dead:
Nor let the blasting spoiler sip
The fragrance of thy balmy lip !
To share with him the lover's part,
Were rank adultery of the heart.

But if, in chaster love's despite, Warm Nature catch the known delight; While fierce desires tumultuous rise, And rapture melts thy closing eyes; Ah! be those joys for me design'd, And let me rush upon thy mind! To me the burning kiss impart, On me impress the humid dart, For me unlock the nectar'd store, Then sigh, and dream the transport o'er !

Thus with her lov'd idea fraught, Delusive fancy charms my thought; And joining in the flatt'ring cheat, Willing I hug the dear deceit ;

From fiction real bliss receive,
And all I fondly wish believe;
Nor envy to a husband's arms
The dull fruition of her charms.

But when, regardless of my truth, She smiles on some more favor'd youth; And while he whispers in her ears, With more than wonted pleasure hears; My jealous thought his voice supplies, And reads perdition in her eyes. Then torn with envy, love, and hate, I wish her with her wedded mate.

END OF EPISTLES

PANEGYRICAL AND GALLANT.

ON

EPISTLES

PANEGYRICAL AND GALLANT.

Page 5.

EPISTLE I.

THE chaste Orinda rose; with purer light, Like modest Cynthia, beaming thro' the night:] Mrs. Catherine Philips: she was distinguished by most of the wits of King Charles's reign, and died young. Her pieces on Friendship are particularly admired. See Epistle xiii. in this volume.

6. Who can unmov'd hear Winchelsea reveal

Thy horrors, spleen! which all, who paint, must feel?] Anne, Countess of Winchelsea, a

lady of great wit and genius, wrote (among others) a poem much admired, on the Spleen, and is praised by Mr. Pope, &c. under the poetical name of Ardelia. ibid. Hail, Cockburne, bail! even now from Reason's bowers

Thy Locke delighted culls the choicest flowers
To deck his great, successful champion's head,
And Clarke expects thee in the laurel shade.]

Mrs. Catherine Cockburne was the wife of a clergy. man, lived obscurely, and died a few years ago, in an

advanced age in Northumberland; her works on dramatic, philosophical, and sacred subjects, have been lately collected by the learned Dr. Birch, and are generally admired.

6.

-Manley, Centlivre, and Behn;] The first of these wrote the scandalous memoirs called Atalantis, and the other two are notorious for the indecency of their plays.

7.

-Philips, Pilkington, and Vane,] These three ladies have endeavoured to immortalize their shame by writing their own memoirs.

ibid. But hark! what Nymph, in Frome's embroider'd vale,

With strains seraphic swells the vernal gale?] The character of Mrs. Rowe and her writings is too well known to be dwelt on here. It may be sufficient to say, that without any previous illness, she met at last with that sudden death for which she had always wished.

ibid. Nor can her noble Friend escape unseen,

Or from the Muse her modest virtues screen:] Frances, Countess of Hertford, and afterwards Dutchess Dowager of Somerset, Mrs. Rowe's illustrious friend, lamented her death in some verses prefixed to her poems, and was author of the letters in her collection signed Cleora.

8. By generons views one Peeress more demands

A grateful tribute from all female bands;] Anne, Viscountess Irwin, and aunt to the present Earl of Carlisle this lady, in a poetical epistle to Mr. Pope,

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