The griesly king: in vain the tyrant tried You too, ye libertines, who idly jest With virtue wrong'd, and innocence distrest; Who vainly boast of what should be your shame, And triumph in the wreck of female fame ; Be warn'd, like Belford, and behold, with dread, The hand of vengeance hovering o'er your head! If not, in Belton's agonies you view What dying horrors are reserv'd for you. gay, In vain even Lovelace, healthy, young, and By nature form'd to please, and to betray, Tried from himself, by change of place, to run; For that intruder, Thought, he could not shun. Tasteless were all the pleasures that he view'd In foreign courts; for conscience still pursu❜d: The lost Clarissa each succeeding night, In starry garment, swims before his sight; Nor ease by day her shrill complaints afford, But far more deeply wound than Morden's sword. O! if a sage had thus on Attic plains Improv'd at once and charm'd the listening swains; Had he, with matchless energy of thought, Great truths like these in antient Athens taught: On fam'd Ilyssus' banks in Parian stone His breathing bust conspicuous would have shone; Even Plato, in Lyceum's awful shade, Th' instructive page with transport had survey'd; And own'd its author to have well supplied The place his laws to Homer's self denied. ΤΟ MRS. BINDON, At Bath. BY THE HONORABLE SIR CHA. HANBURY WILLIAMS, BART. APOLLO of old on Britannia did smile, But now, since the laurel is given of late fore; And further he says, men no longer shall boast MRS. BINDON's ANSWER. WHEN home I return'd from the dancing last night, And elate by your praises attempted to write, I familiarly call'd on Apollo for aid, And told him how many fine things you had said. I have prov'd his resentment, alas! but too true. |