LADY CARLISLE's ANSWER to Mrs. Greville's Qde for Indifference.

But then an ev'ning walk's the thing-
Not if you 're hot before-

The man who fweats when he fits still,
Will, when he moves, fweat more.

Well, now the fupper's come-and come
To make bad worse, I wot;

For fupper, while it heats the cool,

Will never cool the hot.

And bed, which cheers the cold man's heart,

Helps not the hot a pin;

For he who fweats when out of bed,

Sweats ten times more when in.

MAD POLL; from Bloomfield's Farmer's Boy.

HE pride of fuch a party, nature's pride,
Was lovely Poll; who innocently try'd,
With hat of airy fhape and ribbons gay,
Love to infpire, and ftand in Hymen's way:
But, 'ere her twentieth fummer could expand,
Or youth was render'd happy with her hand,
Her mind's ferenity was loft and gone,
Her eye grew languid, and the wept alone;
Yet caufelefs feem'd her grief; for quick reftrain'd,
Mirth follow'd loud, or indignation reign'd:
Whims wild and fimple led her from her home,
The heath, the common, or the fields to roam:
Terror and joy alternate rul'd her hours;
Now blithe the fung, and gather'd ufelefs flow'rs;
Now pluck'd a tender twig from every bough,
To whip the hov'ring demons from her brow.
Ill-fated maid! thy guiding fpark is fled,
And lafting wretchedness waits round thy bed-
Thy bed of ftraw! for mark, where even now
O'er their loft child afflicted parents bow;
Their woe fhe knows not, but perversely coy,
Inverted customs yield her fullen joy;
Her midnight meals in fecrefy fhe takes,
Low mutt'ring to the moon, that rifing breaks

Through night's dark gloom :-oh how much more forlorn
Her night, that knows of no returning dawn!-
Slow from the threshold, once her infant feat,
O'er the cold earth fhe crawls to her retreat;

Quitting

Quitting the cot's warta walls in filth to lie,
Where the fwine grunting yields up half his fty;
The damp night air her fhiv'ring limbs affails;
In dreams fhe moans, and fancied wrongs bewails.
When morning wakes, none earlier rous'd than she,
When pendent drops fall glitt'ring from the tree;
But nought her raylefs melancholy cheers,
Or fooths her breaft, or flops her fireaming tears.
Her matted locks unornamented flow;

Clafping her knees, and waving to and fro ;-
Her head bow'd down, her faded cheek to hide ;—-
A piteous mourner by the pathway fide.
Some tufted molchill through the livelong day
She calls her throne; there weeps her life away:
And oft the gaily paffing firanger fiays
His well-tim'd fep, and takes a filent gaze,
Till fympathetic drops unbidden start,

And pangs quick fpringing mufter round his heart;
And foft he treads with other gazers round,

And fain would catch her forrow's plaintive found:
One word alone is all that strikes the ear,
One fhort, pathetic, fimple word,-"Oh dear!"
A thousand times repeated to the wind,
That wafts the figh, but leaves the pang behind!
For ever of the proffer'd parley fhy,

She hears th' unwelcome foot advancing nigh;
Nor quite unconfcious of her wretched plight,
Gives one fad look, and hurries out of fight-

Fair promis'd funbeams of terreftrial blifs,
Health's gallant hopes,-and are ye funk to this?
For in Life's road though thorns abundant grow,
There ftill are joys poor Poll can never know;
Joys which the gay companions of her prime
Sip, as they drift along the stream of time;
At eve to hear befide their tranquil home
The lifted lateh, that fpeaks the lover come:
That love matur'd, next playful on the knee
To prefs the velvet lip of infancy;

To tay the tottering ftep, the features trace ;-
Incitimable fweets of focial peace!

CONTRAST