To the Honourable Mrs. FINCH, Afterwards Countess of Winchelsea, PHO Under her name of Ardelia. HOEBUS, now short'ning ev'ry shade, Up to the northern tropick came, And thence beheld a lovely maid, Attending on a royal dame. The God laid down his feeble rays, The nymph, who oft had read in books And guess'd his bus’ness e're he spoke. He in the old celeftial cant Confefs'd his flame and fwore by Styx Whate'er she would defire to grantBut wife Ardelia knew his tricks. Ovid Ovid had warn'd her to beware Of ftroling Gods, whofe ufual trade is, Under pretence of taking air, To pick up fublunary ladies. Howe'er, she gave no flat denial, To cheat the God in his own art. Hear my requeft, the virgin faid; By vow oblig'd, by paffion led, The God could not refufe her pray'r : He wav'd his wreath thrice o'er her head, Thrice mutter'd fomething to the air. And now he thought to seize his due: On fight of this celestial prude, He He hop'd to find some lucky hour, When on their queen the mufes wait: But Pallas owns Ardelia's pow'r; For vows divine are kept by fate. Then, full of rage, Apollo fpoke: Let stubborn pride poffefs thee long, Of modeft poets be thou firft; And laft, my vengeance to compleat, * IMPROMPTU. To Lady WINCHELSEA. Occafion'd by four Satirical Verfes on Women Wits in The Rape of the Lock. IN vain you boaft poetic names of yore, And cite thofe Sapphos we admire no more: Fate doom'd the fall of ev'ry female wit; away: Light to the ftars the fun does thus reftore, But fhines himself till they are feen no more. * EPIGRAM. A Bifhop by his neighbours hated Has caufe to wifh himself tranflated: But why fhou'd Hough defire tranflation, Lov'd and efteem'd by all the nation? Yet, if it be the old man's cafe, I'll lay my life, I know the place: 'Tis where God fent fome that ádore him, And whither Enoch went before him. K 3 STELLA'S TELLA this day is thirty-four, (We fha'n't dispute a year or more :) However, Stella, be not troubled; Although thy fize and years are doubled, Since firft I faw thee at fixteen, The brightest virgin on the green, So little is thy form declin'd; Made up fo largely in thy mind. Oh, wou'd it please the Gods to split Thy beauty, fize, and years, and wit! No age could furnish out a pair Of nymphs fo graceful, wife, and fair; With half the luftre of your eyes, With half your wit, your years, and size, And then before it grew too late, How fhou'd I beg of gentle fate (That either nymph might have her fwain) To fplit my worship too in twain. STELLA'S Birth-Day. 1720. LL travellers at firft incline AL Where-e'er they see the faireft fign; And, if they find their chambers neat, And like the liquor and the meat, Will call again, and recommend The Angel-inn to ev'ry friend. |