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The doctor, when the speech was closed,
Confess'd he was a little posed.
Then looking impudently grave,
" And how would you,” said he, “behave ?
Would you part freely with your wife,
To save a friend's expiring life ?”.
“By Jove, I'd act as I advise,"
The father eagerly replies.-
“Then,” cries the doctor, “I have done
Entreat yourself to save your son.
He loves your girl-can you endure
To work the necessary cure ?
If it were just that I should give
My wife to cause a friend to live,
You surely may bestow with joy
Your mistress, to preserve your boy."
He spoke with sense, he spoke with art :
Conviction touch'd the father's heart :-
"Tis hard,” he cried, “'tis passing hard,
To lose what I so much regard !
But when two dread misfortunes press,
'Tis wisdom sure to choose the less."



HENCE! hence! ye songsters; hence ! ye idle train !
Vain is the song, the pipe's soft warbling vain ;
In me nor joy thy strains inspire,

Nor passion can thy numbers move;
The thrills of the resounding lyre

To me are not the thrills of Love.
For I know well to value gold aright;
I scorn a passion—while its gifts are light.
Puff not your cheeks, fond youths ! dismiss the flute;
Hush'd be the harp, the soft guitar be mute :
Or hie where pensive Echo sits

Moping the lonely rocks among ;
She'll listen to your chanting fits,

Applaud, and pay you song for song. * Epistle XIV.] This letter is from a girl to her lovers, who courted her with music instead of money.

But I know well to value gold aright,
And scorn a passion while its gifts are light.
Do, good Charmides, stop thy tuneful tongue;
And friendly Lycias trust not to thy song.
There is a sound--and well you

That sound I never heard from thee-
The smallest clink of which, I vow,

Is sweetest harmony to me.
For I've been taught to value gold aright,
And scorn a passion while its gifts are light.
Why do your vows in tuneful numbers flow?
Why urge the joys I do not wish to know?
Say, youth, can thy poetic fire

Make folly pleasant to the ear?
Can thy soft notes, and soothing lyre,

Make oaths, and lovers' oaths, sincere ?
Go! go ! I know to value gold aright,
And scorn a passion while its gifts are light.
Soft is thy note, my friend, I grant 'tis soft ;
Sweet is thy lay—but I have heard it oft:
And will thy piping ne'er disgust,

When all the novelty is past?
Your stock will fail-you know it must;

And sweetest sounds will tire at last.
Then now's the time to value gold aright,
To scorn a passion while its gifts are light.
When the cold hand of age has damp'd thy fire,
Unstrung thy harp, and hush'd th' unheeded lyre;
Say, will thy tuneless, crazy voice

Keep chilling penury away?
Will mem'ry lead us to rejoice

Because, poor bard, thou once couldst play?
No! no! Then still I'll value gold aright,
And still the lover scorn whose gifts are light.
Then hence ! ye songsters ;



idle train !
Vain is the song, the pipe's soft warbling vain :
No idle triflings captivate this breast ;-
Produce your money– I'll excuse the rest

Puff not your cheeks, fond youths ! dismiss the flute, Hush'd be the harp, the soft guitar be mute ;

Such signs of passion in contempt I hold :-
But there's substantial proof of love-in gold.

I know you fancy me an easy fool,
Raw, and undisciplined in Venus' school;
A thoughtless victim, whom a song could move,
And each fond lay inspire with throbs of love :
Deluded swains; but vain do ye opine-
Know, the whole science of intrigue is mine.
A dame, experienced in the mystic art,
Taught me to play with ablest skill my part;
Taught me to laugh at songs, and empty strains ;
And taught how Cupid shone-in golden chains.
My sister too, and all her am'rous train,
Tutor'd my youth,--nor were their lessons vain.
Full oft her suitors hath she frankly told,
* Your aim is beauty, sirs, and mine is gold:
Each other's wants let's mutually supply."-
'Twas thus my sister spoke,—and thus speak I.
With her, I laugh at Cupid's batter'd name,
With her, I mock what fools call gen'rous flame;
With her, my theme's to value gold aright,
And scorn a passion while its gifts are light.


LOVE, or of force, or of persuasion,
Avails him as best suits th' occasion :
And all, who've felt his tingling dart,
Will own its conquest o'er the heart.
Love can the thirst of blood assuage,
And bid the battle cease to rage ;
Quell the rude discord, and compose
To peace the most determined foes.
Vain is the lance, and vain the shield,
And vain the wide embattled field;
Vain the long military train,
And Mars with all his terrors vain.
Cupid his stubborn angry soul
Can with a little shaft control.-
Each champion, who with fury brave
Would stem war's most destructive wave,

* Epistle XV.] A narrative.


Without a stroke, to Love will yield,
And quit at once his useless shield.-
T' insure your credit to my text,
A case in point is here annext.

Two cities of no mean estate,
Miletus this, and Myus that,
Had long in mutual conflicts bled,
While commerce droop'd with languid head.
And only while Miletus kept
Diana's feast, the contest slept :
A solemn truce was then allow'd :-
At Dian's shrine each city bow'd. -
And, till the festive revels cease,
'Twas naught but harmony and peace.
Then gleams the hostile blade again,
And reeking gore manures the plain.
But Venus little could sustain
That Discord should eternal reign ;
So closed for ever their dispute :
And thus she found the means to do't.

From Myus to Miletus came
A girl (Piëria was her name,)
Bright as the morn she was by nature,
And Venus now retouch'd each feature,

Then, at what time the sacred train
Attended at Diana's fane,
The prince of the Miletians came,
And saw the maid, and felt the flame.
And soon the prince his love address'd,
"Speak, charmer, speak thy first request ?
Whate'er thy wish, whate'er thy want,
Be't mine to make a double grant.”
But thee, fair maid, supreme in mind,
As well as charms, o'er womankind,
No idle choice seduced aside,
No giddy wish, no hurtful pride :
Thee could no costly gem insnare,
No trinket to adorn thy hair :
No Carian slave didst thou request,
No precious chain, no Tyrian vest.
But long didst stand with downcast eye,
As hesitating to reply ;

Essaying, but in vain, to speak,
While blushes dyed thy modest cheek.
At last thy falt'ring tongue with fear
Thus utter'd faintly in his ear,
“ Prince, to these walls give access free,
At all times, for my friends and me.”
Phrygius full well perceived her drift,
Yet nobly ratified his gift.
A peace was soon proclaim'd around,
And mighty Love the treaty bound:
A more sufficient guarantee,
Than any

bonds or oaths could be.
And this example well may prove
That naught's so eloquent as Love:
For oft had orators, whose style was
Mellifluent as the seer's of Pylos, *
Convened, debated, and return'd,
While still the rage of battle burn'd,
But Cupid's sweeter elocution
Brought matters quick to a conclusion.
And hence the Ionian maids deduce
Th' expression now so much in use,
“ May we such noble presents have,
As erst the princely Phrygius gave !
And may our lords as faithful be,
As thine, Piëria, was to thee."



In secret pining thus I sigh'd,

“ Love, thou alone my flame dost know, Who didst the fatal arrow guide,

And Venus, who prepared thy bow.
“ Not to my friend, to her much less

Dare I niy hopeless flame disclose ;
And love conceal'd burns to excess,

And with redoubled ardour glows.

• Seer of Pylos.] Nestor, famous in Homer for his eloquence:

+ Episile XVI.) A lover, who long had feared to disclose his passion, at length describes to his friend the circumstances of success.

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