So some coarse country wench, almost decay'd, Trudges to town, and first turns chambermaid; Awkward and supple, each devoir to pay, She flatters her good lady twice a-day; Thought wondrous honest, though of mean degree, And strangely liked for her simplicity: In a translated suit, then tries the town, With borrow'd pins, and patches not her own: But just endured the winter she began, And in four months a batter'd harridan.

Now nothing left, but wither'd, pale, and shrunk, To bawd for others, and go shares with punk.

SONG,

BY A PERSON OF QUALITY, WRITTEN IN THE YEAR 1733.

1 Fluttering, spread thy purple pinions, Gentle Cupid, o'er my heart, I a slave in thy dominions; Nature must give way to art.

2 Mild Arcadians, ever blooming, Nightly nodding o'er your flocks, See my weary days consuming, All beneath yon flowery rocks.

3 Thus the Cyprian goddess, weeping, Mourn'd Adonis, darling youth: Him the boar, in silence creeping, Gored with unrelenting tooth.

4 Cynthia, tune harmonious numbers; Fair Discretion, string the lyre; Soothe my ever-waking slumbers: Bright Apollo, lend thy choir.

5 Gloomy Pluto, king of terrors, Arm'd in adamantine chains, Lead me to the crystal mirrors, Watering soft Elysian plains.

6 Mournful cypress, verdant willow, Gilding my Aurelia's brows, Morpheus hovering o'er my pillow, Hear me pay my dying vows.

7 Melancholy smooth Maeander, Swiftly purling in a round, On thy margin lovers wander, With thy flowery chaplets crown'd.

8 Thus when Philomela, drooping, Softly seeks her silent mate, See the bird of Juno stooping; Melody resigns to fate.

ON A CERTAIN LADY AT COURT.

1 I know the thing that's most uncommon; (Envy be silent, and attend!) I know a reasonable woman, Handsome and witty, yet a friend.

2 Not warp'd by passion, awed by rumour, Not grave through pride, or gay through folly, An equal mixture of good humour, And sensible soft melancholy.

3 'Has she no faults, then (Envy says), sir?'

Yes, she has one, I must aver: When all the world conspires to praise her, The woman's deaf, and does not hear.

ON HIS GROTTO AT TWICKENHAM,

COMPOSED OF MARBLES, SPARS, GEMS, ORES, AND MINERALS.

Thou who shalt stop, where Thames' translucent wave Shines a broad mirror through the shadowy cave; Where lingering drops from mineral roofs distil, And pointed crystals break the sparkling rill, Unpolish'd gems no ray on pride bestow, And latent metals innocently glow: Approach! Great Nature studiously behold!

And eye the mine without a wish for gold.

Approach: but awful! lo! the Aegerian grot,[70]

Where, nobly-pensive, St John sate and thought; Where British sighs from dying Wyndham stole, And the bright flame was shot through Marchmont's soul.

Let such, such only, tread this sacred floor, Who dare to love their country, and be poor!

VARIATIONS.

After VER. 6, in the MS.--

Yon see that island's wealth, where, only free, Earth to her entrails feels not tyranny.

--i.e. Britain is the only place on the globe which feels not tyranny even to its very entrails. Alluding to the condemnation of criminals to the mines, one of the inflictions of civil justice in most countries--W.

VER. 11, in MS. it was thus--

To Wyndham's breast the patriot passions stole.

ROXANA, OR THE DRAWING-ROOM.

AN ECLOGUE.

Roxana, from the Court returning late, Sigh'd her soft sorrow at St James's gate: Such heavy thoughts lay brooding in her breast, Not her own chairmen with more weight oppress'd: They curse the cruel weight they're doom'd to bear; She in more gentle sounds express'd her care.

'Was it for this, that I these roses wear?

For this, new-set the jewels for my hair?

Ah, Princess! with what zeal have I pursued!

Almost forgot the duty of a prude. 10 This king I never could attend too soon; I miss'd my prayers, to get me dress'd by noon.

For thee, ah! what for thee did I resign?

My passions, pleasures, all that e'er was mine: I've sacrificed both modesty and ease; Left operas, and went to filthy plays: _Double-entendres_ shock'd my tender ear; Yet even this, for thee, I chose to bear: In glowing youth, when nature bids be gay, And every joy of life before me lay; 20 By honour prompted, and by pride restrain'd, The pleasures of the young my soul disdain'd: Sermons I sought, and with a mien severe Censured my neighbours, and said daily prayer.

Alas, how changed! with this same sermon-mien, The filthy _What-d'ye-call-it_[71]--I have seen.

Ah, royal Princess! for whose sake I lost The reputation, which so dear had cost; I, who avoided every public place, When bloom and beauty bid me show my face, 30 Now near thee, constant, I each night abide, With never-failing duty, by thy side; Myself and daughters standing in a row, To all the foreigners a goodly show.

Oft had your drawing-room been sadly thin, And merchants' wives close by your side had been, Had I not amply fill'd the empty place, And saved your Highness from the dire disgrace: Yet Cockatilla's artifice prevails, When all my duty and my merit fails: 40 That Cockatilla, whose deluding airs Corrupts our virgins, and our youth ensnares; So sunk her character, and lost her fame, Scarce visited before your Highness came: Yet for the bedchamber 'tis she you choose, Whilst zeal, and lame, and virtue you refuse.

Ah, worthy choice; not one of all your train Which censures blast not, or dishonours stain.

I know the Court, with all its treacherous wiles, The false caresses, and undoing smiles. 50 Ah, Princess! learn'd in all the courtly arts, To cheat our hopes, and yet to gain our hearts.'

TO LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE.

1 In beauty or wit, No mortal as yet To question your empire has dared; But men of discerning Have thought that in learning To yield to a lady was hard.

2 Impertinent schools, With musty dull rules, Have reading to females denied: So Papists refuse The Bible to use, Lest flocks should be wise as their guide.

3 'Twas a woman at first (Indeed she was cursed) In knowledge that tasted delight, And sages agree The laws should decree To the first possessor the right.

4 Then bravely, fair dame, Resume the old claim, Which to your whole sex does belong; And let men receive, From a second bright Eve, The knowledge of right and of wrong.

5 But if the first Eve Hard doom did receive, When only one apple had she, What a punishment new Shall be found out for you, Who, tasting, have robb'd the whole tree!

EXTEMPORANEOUS LINES

ON A PORTRAIT OF LADY MARY WORTLEY MONTAGUE, PAINTED BY KNELLER.