But grant, the virtues of a temp'rate prime
Bless with an age exempt from fcorn or crime;
An age that melts in unperceiv'd decay,
And glides in modest innocence away ;
Whofe peaceful day Benevolence endears,
Whofe night congratulating Confcience chears;
The gen'ral fav'rite, as the gen'ral friend;
Such

age there is, and who could wish it's end?
Yet e'en on this her load Misfortune flings,
To press the weary minutes flagging wings:
New forrow rifes as the day returns,
A fifter fickens, or a daughter mourns.
Now kindred Merit fills the fable bier,
Now lacerated friendship claims a tear.
Year chases year, decay pursues decay,
Still drops fome joy from with'ring life away;
New forms arise, and diff'rent views engage,
Superfluous lags the vet'ran on the stage;
Till pitying Nature figns the last release,
And bids afflicted worth retire to peace.

But few there are whom hours like thefe await,

Who fet unclouded in the gulphs of Fate.
From Lydia's monarch should the fearch defcend,
By Solon caution'd to regard his end,

In life's laft fcene what prodigies furprize,

Fears of the brave, and follies of the wife?

From Marlb'rough's eyes the streams of dotage flow,
And Swift expires a driv❜ler and a show.

The teeming mother, anxious for her race,
Begs for each birth the fortune of a face:
Yet Vane could tell what ills from beauty spring;
And Sedley curs'd the form that pleas'd a king.
Ye nymphs of rofy lips and radiant eyes,
Whom Pleasure keeps too busy to be wise ;
Whom joys with soft varieties invite,
By day the frolick, and the dance by night;

Who frown with vanity, who smile with art,

And ask the latest fashion of the heart;

What care, what rules your heedlefs charms shall save,
Each nymph your rival, and each youth your flave?
Against your fame with fondnefs hate combines,
The rival batters, and the lover mines.
With diftant voice neglected Virtue calls,

Lefs heard, and less, the faint remonftrance falls;
Tir'd with contempt, fhe quits the flipp'ry reign,
And Pride and Prudence take her seat in vain.
In croud at once, where none the pass defend,
The harmless Freedom, and the private Friend.
The guardians yield, by force fuperior ply'd;
By Int'reft, Prudence; and by Flatt'ry, Pride.
Now Beauty falls, betray'd, defpis'd, distress'd,
And hiffing Infamy proclaims the rest.

Where then shall Hope and Fear their objects find?
Muft dull Sufpenfe corrupt the stagnant mind?
Muft helpless man, in ignorance fedate,

Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate?

Muft no diflike alarm, no wishes rise,

No cries attempt the mercies of the skies?
Enquirer, ceafe; petitions yet remain,

Which Heav'n may hear, nor deem religion vain.
Still raife for good the fupplicating voice,

But leave to Heav'n the measure and the choice,

Safe in his pow'r, whofe eyes difcern afar
The fecret ambush of a fpecious pray'r.
Implore his aid, in his decifions rest,
Secure whate'er he gives, he gives the best.
Yet when the fenfe of Sacred Prefence fires,
And ftrong devotion to the fkies afpires,
Pour forth thy fervours for a healthful mind,
Obedient paffions, and a will refign'd;
For Love, which fcarce collective man can fill;
For Patience, fov'reign o'er tranfmuted ill;

For

For Faith, that, panting for a happier seat,
Counts death kind Nature's fignal of retreat:

These goods for man the laws of Heav'n ordain,
These goods he grants, who grants the pow'r to gain;
With thefe, celeftial Wisdom calms the mind,

And makes the happiness she does not find.

ΜΟΝΙΜΙΑ

TO PHILOCLES,

BY LORD HERVEY.

INCE language never can express my pain,

SINC

How can I hope to move when I complain?

Yet fuch is woman's frenzy in distress,

We love to plead, tho' hopeless of redress.

Perhaps, affecting ignorance, thou'lt say,

From whence thefe lines? whofe meffage to convey ?" Mock not my grief with that feign'd cold demand,

Too well you know the hapless writer's hand :
But if you force me to avow my shame,
Behold them prefac'd with Monimia's name.
Loft to the world, abandon'd and forlorn,
Expos'd to infamy, reproach, and scorn,
To joy and comfort loft, and all for you,
And loft, perhaps, to your remembrance too;
How hard my lot! what refuge can I try,
Weary of life, and yet afraid to die!
Of hope, the wretch's last resort, bereft,
By friends, by kindred, by my lover, left.
Oh! frail dependance of confiding fools,
On lovers oaths, or friendship's facred rules!
Too late, in modern hearts, alas! I find,
Monimias fall'n, and Philocles' unkind!
To these reflections, each flow-wearing day,
And each revolving night, a conftant prey,

4

Think what I fuffer, nor ungentle hear
What madness dictates in my fond defpair;
Grudge not this fhort relief-too faft it flies!
Nor chide that weakness I myself despise.
For fure one moment is at least her due,
Who facrific'd her all of life for you.
Without a frown this farewel then receive,
For 'tis the laft my fatal love fhall give;
Nor this I would, if reafon could command,
But what restriction reins a lover's hand?

Nor prudence, fhame, nor pride, nor int'rest sways;
The hand implicitly the heart obeys:

Too well this maxim has my conduct fhewn,
Too well that conduct to the world is known.
Oft have I writ, as often to the flame
Condemn'd the after-witnefs of my shame;
Oft in my cooler, recollected thought,
Thy beauties and my fondness half forgot,
(How short those intervals for reason's aid!)
Thus to myself in anguish have I faid.

Thy vain remonftrance, foolish maid, give o'er ; • Who act the wrong, can ne'er that wrong deplore.' Then fanguine hopes again delufive reign,

I form thee melting, as I tell my pain.

If not of rock thy flinty heart is made,

Or tigers nurs'd thee in the defart shade,
This would at leaft thy cold compaffion prove,
That flender fuftenance of greedy love:
Tho' no return my warmer wishes find,

Be to the wretch, tho' not the mistress, kind;

Nor whilst I court my melancholy state,

Forget 'twas love, and thee, that wrought my fate.
Without restraint, habituate to range

The paths of pleafure, can I bear the change?
Doom'd from the world unwilling to retire,
In bloom of life, and warm with young defire,

A

In lieu of roofs, with regal splendor gay,
Condemn'd in diftant wilds to drag the day;
Where beasts of prey maintain their savage court,
Or human brutes (the worst of brutes!) refort.
Yes, yes, this change I could unfighing fee,
For none I mourn, but what I find in thee:
There centre all my woes; thy heart eftrang'd,
I weep my lover, not my fortune, chang'd.
Bless'd with thy presence, I could all forget,
Nor gilded palaces in huts regret ;
But exil'd thence, fuperfluous is the reft,
Each place the fame, my hell is in my breast;
To pleasure dead, and living but to pain,
My only fenfe, to fuffer and complain.
As all my wrongs diftrefsful I repeat,

Say, can thy pulfe with equal cadence beat?

Canft thou know peace? is confcience mute within ?
That upright delegate for fecret fin;

Is nature fo extinguish'd in thy heart,

That not one spark remains to take my part?
Not one repentant throb, one grateful figh?

Thy breaft unruffled, and unwet thine eye?
Thou cool betrayer, temperate in ill!

Thou, nor remorfe, nor thought humane, canft feel:
Nature has form'd thee of the rougher kind,

And education more debas'd thy mind.

Born in an age when Guilt and Fraud prevail,

When Juftice fleeps, and Int'reft holds the scale;
Thy loose companions, a licentious crew,
Moft to each other, all to us untrue;

Whom chance, or habit mix, but rarely choice,
Not leagu'd in friendship, but in focial vice;
Who, indigent of honour, as of shame,
Glory in crimes which others blush to name;
By right or wrong difdaining to be mov'd,
Unprincipled, unloving, and unlov'd.