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ARTEMIS1A. PHRYNE. owlsia talks, by fit, PHRYNE had talents for mankind ; icks, fishers, wits; Open she was, and unconfin'd, orche, Boyle, and Locke: Like some free port of trade:

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Obscure by birth, renown'd by crimes,

or son of grict) - - - - -
ours (sign of grico Still changing names, religions, climes,
other * At length she turns a bride:
black beside : In diamonds, pearls, and rich brocades,
, her gesture Pro She shines the first of batter'd jades,
kily loud, And flutters in her pride.
- stride. - -
e nes So have I known those insects fair,
a book and white, Which curious Germans hold so rare,

magic high Still vary shapes and dies;

! o Still gain new titles with new forms;

* o imal, - First grubs obscene, then wriggling worms, -> dwig to al Then painted butterflies.

ote, an

k; indulk

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IN vain you boast poetic names of yore,
And cite those Sapphoes we admire no more:
Fate doom'd the fall of every female wit;
But doom'd it then, when first Ardelia writ.
Of all examples by the world confest,
I knew Ardelia could not quote the best;
Who, like her mistress on Britannia's throne,
Fights and subdues in quarrels not her own.
To write their praise you but in vain essay;
Ev’n while you write, you take that praise away:
Light to the stars the sun does thus restore,
But shines himself till they are seen no more,

- EPIGRAM.

A BISHOP by his neighbours hated
Has cause to wish himself translated;
But why should Hough desire translation,
Lov’d and esteem'd by all the nation ?
Yet, if it be the old man's case,

'Tis where God sent some that adore him,
And whither Enoch went before him.

I'll lay my life I know the place: |

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TO MRS. MARTHA BLOUNT.
SENT ON HER B1RTHDAY, JUNE 15.

O, be thou blest with all that Heaven can send,
Long health, long youth, long pleasure, and a friend!
Not with those toys the female race admire,
Riches that vex, and vanities that tire;
Not as the world its petty slaves rewards,
A youth of frolicks, an old age of cards;
Fair to no purpose, artful to no end;
Young without lovers, old without a friend;
A fop their passion, but their prize a sot;
Alive, ridiculous; and dead, forgot
Let joy or ease, let affluence or content,
And the gay conscience of a life well spent,
Calm ev’ry thought, inspirit ev'ry grace,
Glow in thy heart, and smile upon thy face:
Let day improve on day, and year on year,
Without a pain, a trouble, or a fear;
Till Death unfelt that tender frame destroy,
In some soft dream, or ecstasy of joy;
Peaceful sleep out the sabbath of the tomb,
And wake to raptures in a life to come !

SONG.

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S O N G.
By A PERSoN of Qg ALITY ".

I SAID to my heart, between sleeping and waking,
Thou wild thing, that always art leaping or aching,
What black, brown, or fair, in what clime, in what
nation,
By turns has not taught thee a pit-a-pat-ation?

Thus accus'd, the wild thing gave this sober reply: See the heart without motion, tho' Celia pass by Not the beauty she has, or the wit that she borrows, Gives the eye any joys, or the heart any sorrows.

When our Sappho appears, she whose wit’s so refind
I am forc'd to applaud with the rest of mankind;
Whatever she says, is with spirit and fire;
Ev'ry word I attend ; but I only admire.

Prudentia as vainly would put in her claim,
Ever gazing on Heaven, tho' man is her aim :
'Tis love, not devotion, that turns up her eyes:
Those stars of this world are too good for the skies.

But Cloe so lively, so easy, so fair,
Her wit so genteel, without art, without care;
When she comes in my way, the motion, the pain,
The leapings, the achings, return all again.

O wonderful creature a woman of reason
Never grave out of pride, never gay out of season!
When so easy to guess who this angel should be,
Would one think Mrs. Howard ne'er dreamtit was sho

* The earl of Peterborough. BAL

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OF all the girls that e'er were seen,
There's none so fine as Nelly,
For charming face and shape and mien,
And what's not fit to tell ye:
Oh! the turn’d neck, and smooth white skin
Of lovely dearest Nelly
For many a swain it well had been
Had she ne'er pass'd by Calai-.

For when, as Nelly came to France
(Invited by her cousins)
Across the Tuilleries each glance
Kill'd Frenchmen by whole dozens;
The king, as he at dinner sate,
Did beckon to his hussar,
And bid him bring his tabby cat,
For charming Nell to buss her.

The ladies were with rage provok'd
To see her so respected:
The men look'd arch, as Nelly strok'd,
And puss her tail erected.
But not a man did look employ,
Except on pretty Nelly:
Then said the duke de Villeroy,
Ah! qu’elle ect bien jolie /

But who's that grave philosopher, That carefully looks alter 2

By his concern it should appear, The fair one is his daughter.

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