« FöregåendeFortsätt »
ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX,
MRS. MARY BLAIZE.
Good people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madam Blaize, Who never wanted a good word
From those who spoke her praise.
The needy seldom pass'd her door,
And always found her kind; She freely lent to all the poor
Who left a pledge behind.
She strove the neighbourhood to please,
With manners wondrous winning; And never follow'd wicked ways,
Unless when she was sinning.
At church, in silks and satins new,
With hoop of monstrous size; She never slumber'd in her pew—
But when she shut her eyes.
Her love was sought, I do aver,
By twenty beaux and more; The king himself has follow'd her
When she has walk'd before.
But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short-all;
Her last disorder mortal.
Let us lament, in sorrow sore, .
For Kent-street well may say, That, had she lived a twelvemonth more,—
She had not died to-day.
ON A BEAUTIFUL YOUTH,
STRUCK BLIND BY LIGHTNING.
IMITATED FROM THE SPANISH.
Rather in pity than in hate,
To save him from Narcissus' fate.
IRIS, IN BOW-STREET, COVENT-GARDEN.
· SAY, cruel Iris, pretty rake,
Dear mercenary beauty,
Expressive of my duty?
My heart, a victim to thine eyes,
Should I at once deliver,
The gift who slights the giver !
A bill, a jewel, watch, or toy,
My rivals give-and let 'em,
I'll give them when I get 'em.
I'll give but not the full-blown rose,
Or rose-bud more in fashion :
A transitory passion.
Not less sincere than civil:
I'll give thee to the devil.
STANZAS ON WOMAN.
When lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late tliat men betray,
What art can wash her guilt away?
The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
And wring his bosom-is, to die.
APRIL 3, 1800.
E'en have you seen, bathed in the morning dew,
The budding rose its infant bloom display: When first its virgin tints unfold to view,
It shrinks, and scarcely trusts the blaze of day.
So soft, so delicate, so sweet she came,
Youth's damask glow just dawning on her cheek; I gazed, I sigh’d, I caught the tender flame,
Felt the fond pang, and droop'd with passion weak.
INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG IN THE COMEDY OF
“SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.”
Ah me! when shall I marry me?
But I will rally and combat the ruiner:
Lost to every gay delight;
Fears the’approaching bridal night.
Or dim thy beauty with a tear?
She long had wanted cause of fear.