WF

HEN firft Diana leaves her bed, Vapours and steams her look disgrace,

A frowzy dirty-colour'd red

Sits on her cloudy wrinkled face :

But by degrees, when mounted high
Her artificial face appears

Down from her window in the fky,

Her spots are gone, her vifage clears.

'Twixt earthly females and the moon
All parallels exactly run:
If Celia fhould appear too foon,
Alas, the nymph would be undone !

To fee her from her pillow rife,
All reeking in a cloudy fteam,
Crack'd lips, foul teeth, and gummy eyes,
Poor Strephon, how wou'd he blafpheme!

Three colours, black, and red, and white,
So graceful in their proper place,
Remove them to a diff'rent fcite,
They form a frightful hideous face:

1

For inftance, when the lily skips
Into the precincts of the rose,
And takes poffeffion of the lips,
Leaving the purple to the nose.

So Celia went entire to bed,

All her complexion safe and found; But, when she rofe, white, black, and red, Though still in fight, had chang'd their ground.

The black, which would not be confin'd,
A more inferior ftation feeks,
Leaving the fiery red behind,

And mingles in her muddy cheeks.

But Celia can with eafe reduce,

By help of pencil, paint, and brush, Each colour to its place and ufe, And teach her cheeks again to blush.

She knows her early felf no more;

But fill'd with admiration ftands, As other painters oft adore

The workmanship of their own hands.

Thus, after four important hours,
Celia's the wonder of her fex:
Say, which among the heav'nly pow'rs
Could caufe fuch marvellous effects?

Venus, indulgent to her kind,

Gave women all their hearts could wish,

When first she taught them where to find
White lead and Lufitanian dish.

Love with white lead cements his wings:
White lead was fent us to repair
Two brightest, brittleft, earthly things,
A lady's face, and China ware.

She ventures now to lift the fash;
The window is her proper fphere:
Ah lovely nymph! be not too rafh,
Nor let the beaux approach too near :

Take pattern by your fifter star;

Delude at once, and bless our fight; When you are feen, be feen from far, And chiefly chufe to shine by night.

But art no longer can prevail,

When the materials all are gone; The best mechanic hand muft fail, Where nothing's left to work upon.

Matter, as wife logicians fay,
Cannot without a form subsist ;
And form, fay I, as well as they,
Must fail, if matter brings no grist,

And this is fair Diana's cafe;

For all aftrologers maintain, Each night a bit drops off her face, When mortals fay fhe's in her wane ;

*

While Partridge wifely fhews the cause
Efficient of the moon's decay,
That Cancer with his pois'nous claws
Attacks her in the milky way;

But Gadbury, in art profound,

From her pale cheeks pretends to fhew,
That fwain Endymion ‡ is not found,
Or elfe that Mercury's her foe.

But, let the cause be what it will,
In half a month fhe looks fo thin,
That Flamstead can, with all his skill,
See but her forehead and her chin.

* Partridge and Gadbury wrote each an ephemeris.

Endymion, a young fhep

herd, of whom Diana was feigned to be enamoured,

Yet

Yet, as she wastes, fhe grows difcreet,
'Till midnight never fhews herhead:
So rotting Celia ftroles the ftreet,
When fober folks are all a-bed:

For fure, if this be Luna's fate,
Poor Celia, but of mortal race,
In vain expects a longer date.

To the materials of her face.

When Mercury her treffes mows,

To think of black-lead combs is vain;
No painting can reftore a nofe,
Nor will her teeth return again.

Ye pow'rs, who over love prefide!
Since mortal beauties drop fo foon,
you would have us well fupply'd,
Send us new nymphs with each new moon.

If

PETHOX THE GREAT.

FR

ROM Venus born, thy beauty fhows; But who thy father, no man knows : Nor can the fkilful herald trace

The founder of thy ancient race:

Whether