Enough if all around him but admire, And now the Punk applaud, and now the Friar. He dies, fad outcaft of each church and ftate, Nature well known, no prodigies remain, Comets are regular, and Wharton plain. If fecond qualities for firft they take. In this the Luft, in that the Avarice,' 205 210 Were means, not ends; Ambition was the vice. 215 VARIATION. In the former Editions, ver. 208. Nature well known, no Miracles remain. Altered, as above, for very obvious reasons. That That very Cæfar, born in Scipio's days, In this one paffion man can strength enjoy, Behold a reverend fire, whom want of grace Has made the father of a nameless race, 220 225 230 235 240 A falmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate; The doctor call'd, declares all help too late: "Mercy! cries Helluo, mercy on my foul! "Is there no hope?—Alas!—then bring the jowl." The frugal Crone, whom praying priests attend, Still ftrives to fave the hallow'd taper's end, Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires, For one puff more, and in that puff expires. 245 "Odious! in woollen! 'twould a faint provoke,. (Were the last words that poor Narciffa fpoke) "No, let a charming Chintz, and Bruffels lace, Wrap my cold limbs, and fhade my lifeless face: "One would not, fure, be frightful when one 's deadAnd-Betty-give this Cheek a little Red." The Courtier fmooth, who forty years had fhin'd. An humble fervant to all human-kind, Juft brought out this, when scarce his tongue could ftir, "If-where I'm going-I could ferve you, Sir!" 255 "I give and I devife (old Euclio faid, And figh'd) "" my lands and tenements to Ned." Your money, Sir?" My money, Sir! what all? "Why,—if I must-(then wept) I give it Paul." The manor, Sir?" The manor! hold, he cry'd. 260 "Not that, I cannot part with that”—and dy’d. And you! brave Cobham, to the latest breath,. Shall feel your ruling paffion ftrong in death: Such in those moments as in all the past, "Oh, fave my Country, Heaven!" fhall be your laft. MORAL MORAL ESSAY S EPISTLE TO A LADY. II.. Of the Characters of WOMEN. THERE is nothing in Mr. Pope's works more highly finished than this Epiftle: Yet its fuccefs was in no proportion to the pains he took in compofing it. Something he chanced to drop in a fhort advertisement prefixed to it, on its firft publication, may perhaps account for the small attention given to it. He faid that no one character in it was drawn from the life. The public believed him on his word, and expreffed little curiofity about a Satire, in which there was nothing perfonal. YOTHING fo true as what you once let fall, NOTHING "Moft Women have no Characters at all." Matter too foft a lasting mark to bear, And beft diftinguish'd by black, brown, or fair. 5. 10 Let Let then the fair-one beautifully cry, With fimpering Angels, Palms, and Harps divine; Come then, the colours and the ground prepare! 15 Catch, ere the change, the Cynthia of this minute. 20 25 How foft is Silia! fearful to offend; The frail-one's advocate, the weak-one's friend. 30 To her Califta prov'd her conduct nice; And good Simplicius afks of her advice. Sudden, fhe ftorms! fhe raves! You tip the wink, All eyes may fee from what the change arose, Papillia, wedded to her amorous fpark, Sighs for the fhades-"How charming is a Park!" A Park is purchas'd, but the Fair he fees 35 All bath'd in tears" Oh odious, odious Trees!" 40 Ladies, |