Till drown'd was sense, and shame, and right, and
O sing, and hush the nations with thy song!
In vain, in vain the all-composing hour Resistless falls: the Muse obeys the pow'r. She comes! she comes! the sable throne behold Of Night primeval and of Chaos old! Before her, fancy's gilded clouds decay, And all its varying rainbows die away. Wit shoots in vain its momentary fires, The meteor drops, and in a flash expires. As one by one, at dread Medea's strain, The sickening stars fade off th' etherial plain; As Argus' eyes, by Hermes' wand opprest, Clos'd one by one to everlasting rest; Thus at her fell approach, and secret might, Art after art goes out, and all is night. See skulking truth to her old cavern fled, Mountains of casuistry heap'd o'er her head! Philosophy that lean'd on heav'n before, Shrinks to her second cause, and Physic of metaphysic begs defence, And metaphysic calls for aid on sense! See mystery to mathematics fly!
In vain! they gaze, turn giddy, rave, and die.
Religion, blushing, veils her sacred fires,
And unawares Morality expires.
Nor public flame, nor private, dares to shine;
Nor human spark is left, nor glimpse divine!
Lo! thy dread empire, Chaos! is restor❜d;
Light dies before thy uncreating word;
Thy hand, great Anarch! lets the curtain fall;
And universal darkness buries all.
THE BASSET-TABLE.-AN ECLOGUE.
Cardela, Smilindia, Lovet.
Card, THE Basset-table spread, the tallier come, Why stays Smilinda in the dressing-room? Rise pensive nymph! the tallier waits for you.
Smil. Ah, madam! since iny Sharper is untrue, I joyless make my once ador'd Alpeu.
I saw him stand behind Ombrelia's chair,
And whisper with that soft deluding air,
And those feign'd sighs which cheat the listening fair.
Card. Is this the cause of your romantic strains? A mightier grief my heavy heart sustains?
As you by love, so I by fortune crost;
One, one bad deal, three septlevas have lost.
Smil. Is that the grief which you compare with
With ease the smiles of fortune I resign:
Would all my gold in one bad deal were gone,
Were lovely Sharper mine, and mine alone.
Card. A lover lost is but a common care,
And prudent nymphs against that change prepare: The knave of clubs thrice lost; Oh! who could guess
This fatal stroke, this unforeseen distress?
Smil. See Betty Lovet! very apropos,
She all the cares of love and play does know:
Dear Betty shall th' important point decide;
Betty! who oft the pain of each has tried;
Impartial she shall say who suffers most,
By cards, ill usage, or by lovers lost.
Lov. Tell, tell your griefs, attentive will I stay,
Though time is precious, and I want some tea.
Card. Behold this equipage, by Mathers wrought, With fifty guineas (a great penn worth) bought. See on the toothpick Mars and Cupid strive, And both the struggling figures seem alive. Upon the bottom shines the queen's bright face; A myrtle foliage round the thimble-case. Jove, Jove himself, does on the scissors shine, The metal and the workmanship divine.
Smil. This snuff-box, once the pledge of Sharper's love.
When rival beauties for the present strove ;
At Corticelli's he the raffle won;
Then first his passion was in public shown:
Hazardia blush'd, and turn'd'her head aside,
A rival's envy (all in vain) to hide.
This snuff-box-on the hinge see brilliants shine,
This snuff-box will I stake the prize is mine.
Card. Alas! far lesser losses than I bear
Have made a soldier sigh, a lover swear.
And, Oh! what makes the disappointment hard,
'Twas my own Lord that drew the fatal card
In complaisance I took the queen he gave,
Though my own secret wish was for the knave:
The krave won sonica, which I had chose,
And the next pull, my septleva I lose.
Smil. But, ah! what aggravates the killing smart,
The cruel thought that stabs me to the heart;
This curs'd Ombrelia, this undoing fair,
By whose vile arts this heavy griefÏ bear;
She, at whose name I shed these spiteful tears,
She owes to me the very charms she wears.
An awkward thing when first she came to town,
Her shape unfashion'd, and her face unknown:
She was my friend; I taught her first to spread
Upon her sallow cheeks enlivening red;
I introduc'd her to the park and plays.
And by my interest Cozens made her stays.
Ungrateful wretch! with mimic airs grown pert,
She dares to steal my favourite lover's heart,
Card. Wretch that I was, how often have I
When Winnall tallied, I would punt no more!
I know the bite, yet to my ruin run,
And see the folly which I cannot shun.
Smil. How many maids have Sharper's vows deceiv'd?
How many curs'd the moments they believ'd?
Yet his known falsehoods could no warning prove;
Ah! what is warning to a maid in love?
Card. But of what marble must that breast be form'd,
To gaze on Basset, and remain unwarm'd?
When kings, queens, knaves, are set in decent
rank,
Expos'd in glorious heaps the tempting bank,
Guineas, half-guineas, all the shining train,
The winner's pleasure, and the loser's pain;
In bright confusion open rouleaus lie,
They strike the soul, and glitter in the eye:
Fir'd by the sight, all reason I disdain,
My passions rise, and will not bear the rein.
Look upon Basset, you who reason boast,
And see if reason must not there be lost.
Smil. What more than inarble must that heart
Can hearken coldly to my Sharper's vows?
Then when he trembles! when his blushes rise!
When awful love seems melting in his eyes!
With eager beats his Mechlin cravat moves:
He loves-I whisper to myself, He loves!
Such unfeign'd passion in his looks appears;
I lose all memory of my former fears;
My panting heart confesses all his charms,
I yield at once, and sink into his arms.
Think of that moment you who prudence boast;
For such a moment prudence well were lost.
Card. At the groom-porter's batter'd bullies
play,
Some dukes at Marybonne bowl time away;
But who the bowl or rattling dice compares
To Basset's heavenly joys and pleasing cares?
Smil. Soft Simplisetta dotes upon a beau;
Prudina likes a man, and laughs at show:
Their several graces in my Sharper meet,
Strong as the footman, as the master sweet.
Lov. Cease your contention, which has been tou
long;*
I grow impatient, and the tea's too strong..
Attend, and yield to what I now decide;
The equipage shall grace Smilinda's side;
The snuff-box to Cardelia I decree :-
Now leave complaining, and begin your tea.
From the Fourteenth Book of Ovid's Metamor phoses.
THE fair Pomona flourish'd in his reign;
Of all the virgins of the silvan train
None taught the trees a nobler race to bear,
Or more improv'd the vegetable care.
To her the shady grove, the flowery field,
The streams and fountains, no delight could yield;
'Twas all her joy the ripening fruits to tend,
And see the boughs with happy burdens bend.
The hook she bore instead of Cynthia's spear,
To lop the growth of the luxuriant year,
To decent forms the lawless shoots to bring.
And teach th' obedient branches where to spring:
Now the cleft rind inserted grafts receives,
And yields an offspring more than nature gives:
Now sliding streans the thirsty plants renew,
And feed their fibres with reviving dew.
These cares alone her virgin breast employ,
Averse from Venus and the nuptial joy.
Her private orchards, wall'd on every side,
To lawless sylvans all access denied.
How oft the satyrs and the wanton fawns,
Who haunt the forest or frequent the lawns,
The god whose ensign scares the birds of prey,
And old Sienus, youthful in decay.
Employ'd their wiles and unavailing care
To pass the fences, and surprise the fair?
Like these Vertumnus own'd his faithful flame;
Like these rejected by the scornful dame.
To gain her sight a thousand forms he wears;
And first a reaper from the field appears:
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