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E P I S T L E
To Miss BLOUNT.
With the WORKS of VOITURE.
N these gay thouglats the Loves and Grace
And all the Writer lives in ev'ry line ;
Let the strict life of graver mortals be
Let mine, an innocent gay farce appear, 25
Too much your Sex is by their forms confin'd,
45 For the dull glory of a virtuous Wife; Nor let false Shews, or empty Titles please : Aim not at Joy, but rest content with Ease.
The Gods, to curse Pamela with her pray’rs, Gave the gilt Coach and dappled Flanders Mares, The shining robes, rich jewels, beds of state, 51 And, to compleat her bliss, a Fool for Mate. She glares in Balls, front Boxes, and the Ring, A vain, unquiet, glittring, wretched Thing ! Pride, Pomip, and State but reach her outward part; She fighs, and is no Duchess at her heart.
But, Madam, if the fates withstand, and you Are destin'd Hymen's willing Victim too; Trust not too much your now resistless charms, Those, Age or Sickness, foon or late difarms: 60 Good humour only teaches charms to last, Still makes new conquests, and maintains the past; Love, rais'd on Beauty, will like that decay, Our hearts may bear its slender chain a day; As flow'ry bands in wantonness are worn, A morning's pleasure, and at evening torn; This binds in ties more easy, yet more strong, The willing heart, and only holds it long.
Thus * Voiture's early care still shone the same, And Monthausier was only chang'd in name : 70 By this, ev'n now they live, ev'n now they charm, Their Wit still sparkling, and their flames still warm.
Now crown'd with Myrtle, on th’Elysian coast, Amid those Lovers, joys his gentle Ghost : Pleas'd, while with smiles his happy lines you view, And finds a fairer Rambouillet in you. The brightest eyes of France inspir'd his Muse; The brightest eyes of Britain now peruse; And dead, as living, 'tis our Author's pride Still to charm those who charm the world beside.
* Mademoiselle Paulet. P.
E PIST LE
To the fame,
On her leaving the Town after the CORO
S fome fond Virgin, whom her mother's care
Just when she learns to roll a melting eye,
Coronation.] Of King George the first, 1715.
Up to her godly garret after sev’n,
Some Squire, perhaps, you take delight to rack;
35 Of Lords, and Earls, and Dukes, and garter d
Knights, While the spread fan o'ershades your closing eyes ; Then give one flirt and all the vision fies. Thus vanish sceptres, coronets, and balls, And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls ! 40
So when your Slave, at fome dear idle time, (Not plagu'd with head-achs, or the want of rhyme) Stands in the streets, abstracted from the crew, And while he seems to study, thinks of you; Just when his fancy points your sprightly eyes, 45 Or fees the blush of soft Parthenia rise, Gay pats my shoulder, and you vanish quite, Streets, Chairs, and Coxcombs rush upon my sight; Vex'd to be still in town, I knit my brow, Look four, and hum a Tune, as you may now. 50
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