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Averse she turn’d her weeping face,
And shudder'd at the cold embrace.

But various baits their force impart;
Thus titles lie at Celia's heart:
A passion much too foul to name,
Costs supercilious prudes their fame:
Prudes wed to publicans and sinners;
The hungry poet weds for dinners.

The god with frown indignant view'd
The rabble covetous or lewd;
By every vice his altars stain'd,
By every fool his rites profaned :
When Love complain’d of Wealth aloud,
Affirming wealth debauch'd the crowd;
Drew up in form his heavy charge,
Desiring to be heard at large.

The god consents, the throng divide,
The young espoused the plaintiff's side:
The old declared for the defendant,
For Age is Money's sworn attendant.

Love said that wedlock was design'd
By gracious heaven to match the mind;
To pair the tender and the just,
And his the delegated trust:
That Wealth had play'd a knavish part,
And taught the tongue to wrong the heart;
But what avails the faithless voice?
The injured heart disdains the choice.

Wealth straight replied that Love was blind,
And talk'd at random of the mind :
That killing eyes, and bleeding hearts,
And all the artillery of darts,
Were long ago exploded fancies,
And laugh’d at-even in romances.

Poets indeed style Love a treat,
Perhaps for want of better meat:
And Love might be delicious fare,
Could we, like poets, live on air.
But grant that angels feast on Love
(Those purer essences above),
Yet Albion's sons, he understood,
Preferr'd a more substantial food.
Thus while with gibes he dress'd his cause,
His gray admirers hemm'd applause,

With seeming conquest pert and proud,
Wealth shook his sides, and chuckled loud;
When Fortune, to restrain his pride,
And 'fond to favour Love beside,
Opening the miser's tape-tied vest,
Disclosed the cares which stung his breast :
Wealth stood abash'd at his disgrace,
And a deep crimson flush'd his face.

Love sweetly simper'd at the sight; His gay adherents laugh'd outright. The god, though grave his temper, smiled, For Hymen dearly prized the child : But he who triumphs o'er his brother, In turn is laugh'd at by another. Such cruel scores we often find Repaid the criminal in kind:For Poverty, that famish'd fiend, Ambitious of a wealthy friend, Advanced into the Miser's place, And stared the stripling in the face; Whose lips grew pale, and cold as clay; I thought the chit would swoon away.

The god was studious to employ His cares to aid the vanquish'd boy;

And therefore issued his decree,
That the two parties straight agree.
When both obey'd the god's commands,
And Love and Riches join'd their hands.

What wondrous change in each was wrought,
Believe me, fair! surpasses thought.
If Love had


charms before,
He now had charms, ten thousand more.
If Wealth had serpents in his breast,
They now are dead, or lulld to rest.

Beauty, that vain affected thing,
Who join’d the hymeneal ring,
Approach'd with round unthinking face,
And thus the trifler states her case-
She said, that Love's complaints, 'twas

Exactly tallied with her own;
That Wealth had learn’d the felon's arts,
And robb'd her of a thousand hearts;
Desiring judgment against Wealth,
For falsehood, perjury, and stealth:
All which she could on oath depose,
And hoped the court would slit his nose.

But Hymen, when he heard her name,
Call’d her an interloping dame;
Look'd through the crowd with angry state,
And blamed the porter at the gate
For giving entrance to the fair,
When she was no essential there.

To sink this haughty tyrant's pride,
He order'd Fancy to preside.

Hence, when debates on beauty rise, And each bright fair disputes the prize,

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To Fancy's court we straight apply,
And wait the sentence of her eye;
In Beauty's realms she holds the seals,
And her awards preclude appeals.



LET not the young my precepts shun;
Who slight good counsels are undone.
Your poet sung of Love's delights,
Of halcyon days and joyous nights;
To the gay fancy lovely themes ;
And fain I'd hope they're more than dreams.
But, if you please, before we part,
I'd speak a language to your heart.
We'll talk of Life, though much, I fear,
The’ungrateful tale will wound your ear.
You raise your sanguine thoughts too high,
And hardly know the reason why:
But say Life's tree bears golden fruit,
Some canker shall corrode the root;
Some unexpected storm shall rise ;
Or scorching suns, or chilling skies;
And (if experienced truths avail)
All your autumnal hopes shall fail.

• But, poet, whence such wide extremes?
Well may you style your labours dreams.
A son of sorrow thou, I ween,
Whose visions are the brats of Spleen.


Is bliss a vague unmeaning name-
Speak then the passions' use or aim;
Why rage

desires without control,
And rouse such whirlwinds in the soul;
Why Hope erects her towering crest,
And laughs and riots in the breast?
Think not, my weaker brain turns round,
Think not, I tread on fairy ground:
Think not, your pulse alone beats true-
Mine makes as healthful music too.
Our joys, when life's soft spring we trace,
Put forth their early buds apace.
See the bloom loads the tender shoot,
The bloom conceals the future fruit.
Yes, manhood's warm meridian sun
Shall ripen what in spring begun.
Thus infant roses, ere they blow,
In germinating clusters grow;
And only wait the summer's ray,
To burst and blossom to the day.'

What said the gay unthinking boy?Methought Hilario talk'd of joy! Tell, if thou canst, whence joys arise, Or what those mighty joys you prize. You'll find (and trust superior years) The vale of life a vale of tears. Could Wisdom teach where joys abound, Or riches purchase them, when found, Would sceptred Solomon complain That all was fleeting, false, and vain? Yet sceptred Solomon could say, Returning clouds obscured his day. Those maxims, which the preacher drew, The royal sage experienced true.

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