To Heirs unknown defcends th' unguarded store,
Or wanders, Heaven-directed, to the Poor.
Pictures like thefe, dear Madam, to design,
Afk no firm hand, and no unerring line;
Some wandering touches, fome reflected light,
Some flying ftroke alone can hit them right:
For how should equal Colours do the knack?
Chameleons who can paint in white and black?
"Yet Chloe fure was form'd without a spot."
Nature in her then err'd not, but forgot.
With every pleasing, every prudent part,
"Say, what can Chloe want?"-She wants a Heart.
She speaks, behaves, and acts just as she ought;
But never, never, reach'd one generous Thought.
Virtue fhe finds too painful an endeavour,
Content to dwell in Decencies for ever.
So very reasonable, fo unmov'd,
As never yet to love, or to be lov'd.
She, while her Lover pants upon her breast,
Can mark the figures on an Indian cheft;
And when the fees her Friend in deep despair,
Obferves how much a Chintz exceeds Mohair.
Forbid it, Heaven, a Favour or a Debt
She e'er fhould cancel-but she may forget.
Safe is your secret still in Chloe's ear;
But none of Chloe's fhall you ever hear.
Curs'd chance! this only could afflict her more,
If any part should wander to the poor.
Of all her Dears fhe never flander'd one,
But cares not if a thousand are undone.
Would Chloe know if you're alive or dead?
She bids her Footman put it in her head,
Chloe is prudent-Would you too be wise ?
Then never break your heart when Chloe dies.
One certain Portrait may (I grant) be seen,
Which Heaven has varnish'd out, and made a Queen:
The fame for ever! and defcrib'd by all
With Truth and Goodness,, as with Crown and Ball.
Poets heap Virtues, Painters Gems at will,
And fhew their zeal, and hide their want of skill.
'Tis well—but, Artists! who can paint or write,
To draw the naked is your true delight.
That Robe of Quality fo ftruts and swells,
None fee what Parts of Nature it conceals:
Th' exacteft traits of Body or of Mind,
We owe to models of an humble kind.
If Queensberry to strip there's no compelling,
"Tis from a Handmaid we must take a Helen.
From Peer or Bishop 'tis no easy thing
To draw the man who loves his God, or King:
Alas! I copy, (or my draught would fail)
From honeft Mah'met, or plain Parson Hale.
After ver. 198. in the MS.
Fain I'd in Fulvia fpy the tender Wife;
I cannot prove it on her for my life:
And, for a noble pride, I bluth no lefs,
Instead of Berenice to think on Befs.
But grant, in Public Men fometimes are shown,
A woman's feen in Private life alone:
Our bolder Talents in full light display'd;
Your Virtues open fairest in the shade.
Bred to difguife, in Public 'tis you hide;
There, none diftinguish 'twixt your Shame or Pride, Weakness or Delicacy; all fo nice,
That each may feem a Virtue, or a Vice.
In Men we various Ruling Paffions find;
In Women, two almost divide the kind;
Thofe, only fix'd, they firft or last obey,
The Love of Pleasure, and the Love of Sway.
That, Nature gives; and where the leffon taught
Is but to please, can Pleasure feem a fault?
Experience, this; by Man's oppreffion curst,
They seek the second not to lose the first.
Men, some to Business, some to Pleasure take;
But every Woman is at heart a Rake:
Men, fome to Quiet, fome to public Strife;
But every Lady would be Queen for Life.
Yet mark the fate of a whole Sex of Queens!
Power all their end, but Beauty all the means;
Thus while immortal Cibber only fings
(As Clarke and Hoadly preach) for queens and kings, The Nymph that ne'er read Milton's mighty line, May, if the love, and merit verse, have mine.
Ver. 207. in the first Edition,
In feveral Men we feveral paffions find;
In Women, two almoft divide the kind,
In Youth they conquer with fo wild a rage,
As leaves them fcarce a fubject in their Age:
For foreign glory, foreign joy, they roam;
No thought of peace or happiness at home.
But Wisdom's triumph is well-tim'd Retreat,
As hard a fcience to the Fair as Great!
Beauties, like Tyrants, old and friendless grown,
Yet hate repose, and dread to be alone,
Worn-out in public, weary every eye,
Nor leave one figh behind them when they die.
Pleasures the fex, as children Birds, purfue,
Still out of reach, yet never out of view;
Sure, if they catch, to spoil the Toy at most,
To covet flying, and regret when loft:
At laft, to follies Youth could scarce defend,
It
grows their Age's prudence to pretend;
Afham'd to own they gave delight before,
Reduc'd to feign it, when they give no more:
As Hags hold Sabbaths, lefs for joy than spight,
So these their merry, miferable Night;
Still round and round the Ghofts of Beauty glide,
And haunt the places where their honour dy’d.
See how the World its Veterans 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 Paffion, but their Prize a Sot,
Alive, ridiculous, and dead, forgot!
Ah! Friend! to dazzle let the Vain defign;
To raise the thought, and touch the Heart be thine! 250
That Charm shall grow, while what fatigues the Ring,
Flaunts and goes down, an unregarded thing:
So when the Sun's broad beam has tir'd the fight,
All mild afcends the Moon's more fober light,
Serene in Virgin Modefty the fhines,
And unobserv'd the glaring orb declines.
Oh! bleft with Temper, whofe unclouded ray
Can make to-morrow clearful as to-day:
She, who can love a Sifter's charms, or hear
Sighs for a Daughter with unwounded ear;
She who ne'er anfwers 'till a Hufband cools,
Or, if the rules him, never thews the rules;
Charms by accepting, by fubmitting fways,
Yet has her humour most, when she obeys;
Let Fops or Fortune fly which way they wll;
Difdains all lofs of Tickets, or Codille;
Spleen, Vapours, or Small-pox, above them all,
And Mistress of herself, though China fall.
And yet, believe me, good as well as ill,
Woman's at beft a contradiction ftill.
Heaven when it ftrives to polifh all it can
Its laft beft work, but forms a fofter Man;
Picks from each sex, to make the Favourite bleft,
Your love of Pleasure, our defire of Reft:
Blends, in exception to all general rules,
Your tafte of Follies, with our fcorn of Fools:
Referve with Frankness, Art with Truth ally'd,
Courage with Softness, Modesty with Pride;
Fix'd Principles, with Fancy ever new;
Shakes all together, and produces-You.
|