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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!
And rest beneath the virtues which she won;
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!
There's something curious in her want of care.
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,
A thousand objects all profusely gay?
Yet less variety gives full delight.
See! see! th' alternate glories of the skies
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,
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;
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, 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.
Nor less renown'd in charms the HERVEYS stand:
To reign at large, and spread her mighty power;
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.
Who can express which season cheers him most?