That courage, which can make you just ? For vice in all its glitt'ring drefs; Believe me, Stella, when you fhow For For virtue in her daily race, Like Janus, bears a double face; O then, whatever heav'n intends, * TO MRS. MARTHA BLOUNT. Sent on her Birth-Day, June 15. OH H, be thou bleft with all that heav'n can fend, Long health, long youth, long pleasure, and a friend! Not with those toys the female race admire, Riches that vex, and vanities that tire; Not as the world its pretty flaves rewards, A youth of frolicks, an old-age of cards Fair to no purpose, artful to no end; Youngwithout lovers, old without a friend; A fop their paffion, but their prize a fot; Alive, ridiculous, and dead, forgot! Let joy, or ease, let affluence, or content, And the gay confcience of a life well spent, Calm ev'ry thought, infpirit ev'ry grace, Glow in thy heart, and fmile upon thy face; Let day improve on day, and year on year, Without a pain, a trouble, or a fear; Till death unfelt that tender frame destroy, In fome foft dream, or extafy of joy, Peaceful fleep out the fabbath of the tomb, And wake to raptures in a life to come! *SON G. By a Perfon of Quality. SAID to my heart, between fleeping and waking, Thou wild thing, that always art leaping or aking, What black, brown, or fair, in what clime, in what nation, By turns has not taught thee a pit--a--pat ation ? Thus Thus accus'd, the wild thing gave this fober reply: See the heart without motion, though Celia pass by ! Not the beauty fhe has, or the wit that she borrows, Gives the eye any joys, or the heart any forrows. When our Sappho appears, fhe whose wit's fo refin'd, I am forc'd to applaud with the rest of mankind; Whatever she says, is with spirit and fire; Ev'ry word I attend; but I only admire. Prudentia as vainly would put in her claim, Ever gazing on heaven, tho' man is her aim: 'Tis love, not devotion, that turns up her eyes; Those stars of this world are too good for the fkies. But Cloe fo lively, fo eafy, fo fair, The leapings, the akings, return all again. O wonderful creature! a woman of reafon! Never grave out of pride, never gay out of feafon! When so easy to guess who this angel should be, Would one think Mrs. Howard ne'er dreamt it was fhe? *BALLA D. OF all the girls that e'er were feen, There's none fo fine as Nelly, For charming face, and fhape, and mien, And what's not fit to tell ye: Oh! the turn'd neck and fmooth white skin Of lovely deareft Nelly! For many a fwain it well had been, For when as Nelly came to France, And bid him bring his tabby-cat, The |