Who dy'd at BATH, and is there interr'd.
ELOW this marble monument, is laid
All that heav'n wants of this celeftial maid. referve, O facred tomb, thy trust consign'd: 'he mold was made on purpose for the mind: and she wou'd lose, if at the latter day One atom cou'd be mix'd, of other clay.
uch were the features of her heav'nly face,
Jer limbs were form'd with such harmonious grace,
o faultlefs was the frame, as if the whole
Had been an emanation of the foul;
Which her own inward fymmetry reveal'd;
And like a picture shone, in glass anneal'd.
Or like the fun eclips'd, with shaded light:
Too piercing, else, to be sustain'd by fight.
Each thought was visible that roll'd within:
As through a crystal case, the figur'd hours are seen.
And heav'n did this tranfparent veil provide,
Because she had no guilty thought to hide.
All white, a virgin-faint, the fought the skies:
For marriage, tho' it fullies not, it dies.
The monument of a fair maiden lady.
High tho' her wit, yet humble was her mind;
As if the cou'd not, or fhe wou'd not find
How much her worth transcended all her kind.
Yet he had learn'd so much of heav'n below,
That when arriv'd, she scarce had more to know:
But only to refresh the former bint;
And read her Maker in a fairer print.
So pious, as she had no time to spare
For human thoughts, but was confin'd to pray'r.
Yet in fuch charities the pafs'd the day,
'Twas wond'rous how the found an hour to pray.
A foul fo calm, it knew not ebbs or flows,
Which paffion cou'd but curl; not discompose.
A female softness, with a manly mind:
A daughter duteous, and a fifter kind:
In sickness patient; and in death refign'd.
LD as I am, for ladies love unfit,
LD
The pow'r of beauty I remember yet, [wit. hich once inflam'd my soul, and still inspires my love be folly, the fevere divine
as felt that folly, tho' he cenfures mine;
llutes the pleasures of a chafte embrace,
ats what I write, and propagates in grace
ith riotous excefs, a priefly race:
'ppofe him free, and that I forge th' offence,
efhew'd the way, perverting first my sense:
malice witty, and with venom fraught,
le makes me fpeak the things I never thought.
Compute the gains of his ungovern'd zeal;
Il fuits his cloth the praife of railing well!
The world will think that what we loofly write,
Tho' now arraign'd, he read with fome delight;
Because he feems to chew the cud again,
When his broad comment makes the text too plain:
And teaches more in one explaining page,
Than all the double meanings of the stage.
What needs he paraphrafe on what we mean?
We were at work but wanton; he's obfcene.
1. noe my fellows, nor mystif excuse;
But love's the objeĉ of the comic mufe:
Nor can we write without it, nor would you
A tale of only dry inftruction view;
Nor love is always of a vicious kind,
Bet oft to virtuous acts inflames the mind.
Awakes the fleepy vigour of the foul,
And, brushing o'er, adds motion to the pool.
Love, fro5ious how to please, improves our parts,
With polifh'd manners, and adorns with arts.
Love first invented verfe, and form'd the rhime,
The motion meafur'd, harmoniz'd the chime ;
To lib'ral acts inlarg'd the narrow-soul'd:
Soften'd the fierce, and made the coward bold:
The world when waste, he peopled with increase,
And warring nations reconcil❜d in peace.
Ormond, the first, and all the fair may find
In this one legend to their fame design'd,
When beauty fires the blood, how love exalts the
that sweet ifle, where Venus keeps her court, And ev'ry grace, and all the loves refort; ere either sex is form'd of fofter earth, 1 takes the bent of pleasure from their birth; ere liv'd a Cyprian lord, above the rest, fe, wealthy, with a num'rous iffue bleft. But as no gift of fortune is fincere, s only wanting in a worthy heir: eldest born a goodly youth to view
cell'd the rest in shape, and outward shew;
r, tall, his limbs with due proportion join'd,
t of a heavy, dull, degenerate mind.
5 foul bely'd the features of his face;
auty was there, but beauty in disgrace.
clownish mien, a voice with ruftic found,
id ftupid eyes, that ever lov'd the ground.
He look'd like nature's error; as the mind
ad body were not of a piece design'd,
it made for two, and by mistake in one were join'd. The ruling rod, the father's forming care, 7ere exercis'd in vain, on wit's despair; The more inform'd, the lefs he understood, ind deeper funk by flound'ring in the mud. Now fcorn'd of all, and grown the public shame, The people from Galefus chang'd his name, And Cymon call'd, which fignifies a brute; So well his name did with his nature fute.
His father, when he found his labour loft, And care employ'd, that answer'd not the coft
|