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That Charm fhall 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 ascends the Moon's more sober light,
Serene in Virgin Modefty fhe fhines,
And unobferv'd the glaring orb declines.
Oh! bleft with Temper, whofe unclouded ray
Can make to-morrow chearful as to-day :
She, who can love a Sifter's charms, or hear
Sighs for a Daughter with unwounded ear;
She who ne'er answers till a Hufband cools,
Or, if she rules him, never fhews she rules;
Charms by accepting, by fubmitting fways,
Yet has her humour most, when the obeys;
Let Fops or Fortune fly which way they will,
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 strives to polish all it can
Its last best work, but forms a fofter Man;
Picks from each fex, to make the Favourite bleft,
Your love of Pleasure, our defire of Reft:
Blends, in exception to all general rules,
Your taste of Follies, with our fcorn of Fools:
Referve with Frankness, Art with Truth ally'd,
Courage with Softness, Modefty with Pride;
Fix'd Principles, with Fancy ever new;
Shakes all together, and produces-You.

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Be this a Woman's Fame! with this unbleft,
Toafts live a fcorn, and Queens may die a jeft.
This Phoebus promis'd (I forget the year),
When those blue eyes first open'd on the fphere;.
Afcendant Phoebus watch'd that hour with care,
Averted half your Parents' fimple Prayer;
And gave you Beauty, but deny'd the Pelf
That buys your fex a Tyrant o'er itself.
The generous God, who Wit and Gold refines,
And ripens Spirits as he ripens Mines,
Kept Drofs for Ducheffes, the world fhall know it,
To you gave Senfe, Good-humour, and a Poet,

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MORAL

MORAL ESSAY S.

EPISTLE III.

TO ALLEN, LORD BATHURST.

ARGUMENT.

Of the Ufe of RICHES.

THAT it is known to few, moft falling into one of the extremes, Avarice or Profusion, ver. 1, &c. The Point difcuffed, whether the invention of Money has been more commodious or pernicious to Mankind, ver. 21 to 77. That Riches, either to the Avaricious or the Prodigal, cannot afford Happiness, scarcely Neceffaries, ver. 89 to 160. That Avarice is an abfolute Frenzy, without an End or Purpose, ver. 113, &c. 152. Conjectures about the Motives of Avaricious men, ver. 121 to 153. That the conduct of men, with respect to Riches, can only be accounted for by the Order of Providence, which works the general Good out of Extremes, and brings all to its great End by perpetual Revolutions, ver. 161 to 178. How a Mifer acts upon Principles which appear to him reasonable, ver. 179. How a Prodigal does the fame, ver. 199. The due Medium, and true use of Riches, ver. 219. The Man of Rofs, ver. 250. The fate of the Profufe and the Covetous, in two examples; both miferable in Life and in Death, ver. 300, &c. The Story of Sir Balaam, ver. 339 to the end.

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EPISTLE

EPISTLE III.

THIS Epiftle was written after a violent outcry against our Author, on a supposition that he had ridiculed a worthy nobleman merely for his wrong taste. He juftified himself upon that article in a letter to the Earl of Burlington; at the end of which are these words: "I have learnt that there are fome who would "rather be wicked than ridiculous: and therefore it 66 may be fafer to attack vices than follies. I will "therefore leave my betters in the quiet poffeffion of "their idols, their groves, and their high-places; "and change my fubject from their pride to their "meanness, from their vanities to their miseries "and as the only certain way to avoid mifconftruc"tions, to leffen offence, and not to multiply ill"natured applications, I may probably in my next, "make ufe of real names inftead of fictitious ones."

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WHO

P. HO fhall decide, when Doctors disagree,
And foundest Cafuifts doubt, like you and me?
You hold the word, from Jove to Momus given,
That Man was made the standing jeft of Heaven:
And Gold but fent to. keep the Fools in play,
For fome to heap, and fome to throw away.

But I, who think more highly of our kind,
(And, furely, Heaven and I are of a mind)
Opine, that Nature, as in duty bound,
Deep hid the fhining mischief under ground:

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But

But when, by Man's audacious labour won,
Flam'd forth this rival too, its Sire, the Sun,
Then careful Heaven fupply'd two forts of Men,
To squander These, and Those to hide again.
Like Doctors thus, when much difpute has paft,
We find our tenets juft the fame at last.
Both fairly owning, Riches, in effect,
No grace of Heaven or token of th' Elect;

Given to the Fool, the Mad, the Vain, the Evil, To Ward, to Waters, Chartres, and the Devil. zo B. What Nature wants, commodious Gold bestows; 'Tis thus we eat the bread another fows.

P. But how unequal it beftows, obferve;

'Tis thus we riot, while, who fow it, ftarve:

What Nature wants (a phrase I must distrust) 25 Extends to Luxury, extends to Luft:

Useful, I grant, it serves what Life requires,

But dreadful too, the dark Affaffin hires.

B. Trade it may help, Society extend:

P. But lures the Pirate, and corrupts the Friend. 30 B. It raises Armies in a Nation's aid:

P. But bribes a Senate, and the Land 's betray'd.

In vain may Heroes fight, and Patriots rave,
If fecret Gold fap on from knave to knave.

Once, we confefs, beneath the Patriot's cloak, 35
From the crack'd bag the dropping Guinea fpoke,
And jingling down the back-stairs, told the crew,
"Old Cato is as great a rogue as you."
Bleft Paper-credit! last and best supply!
That lends Corruption lighter wings to fly!
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Gold,

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