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Thefe are the changes nature now unfolds,
And thus her favourite fon his progress holds;
Here range the virtues, there the vices ftand,
He weighs their worth, but with unequal hand;
Warp'd in his choice the balance he fufpends,
And fpite of odds the vicious scale defcends.
Now Vanity her playful part assumes,

And tricks him out in all her gayeft plumes;
South, East, and Weft are sought with curious care,
And Boreas wafts the fluttering youth a share.
For him th' inventive artift hourly plies,
Views every flower, and blends the varied dies;
He raves of fashions, gives th' important rule
Which guides the mode of every mimic fool;
Smiles, fimpers, toffes his fantastic head,

And ftrikes in thought each hapless fair one dead.
Turn to the infect, youth, that art so vain,
Then, if thou canft, thy folly ftill maintain;
Drefs'd by the fummer fun from earth he springs,
Opes his gay downs, and spreads his gold-drop'd wings,
Turns every beauty to the funny ray,

And winnows with soft wing his easy way,
Till from the North a fudden blast arise,
Down drops the painted flutterer, and dies:
Even fuch the frail condition, fuch the fpan
Which circumfcribes the little race of man,
Offspring of earth, that blooms but to decay,
The gaudy, glittering infect of a day.

Behold him now adrift, without a guide,
Borne down where Pleasure rolls her rapid tide;
Erroneous flood, that wide its wave expands,
And in its progress views a thousand lands;

A thou

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A thousand fprings their copious urns fupply,
Swell the rich stream, and pour temptation by.
What ftir, what buftle, what a mighty throng
Prefs to the fhores, or urge the deep along!
Nor youth alone, all ages, all degrees,
Female and male the eye of fancy fees:
For who from Pleasure yet e'er turn'd the eye,
Defpis'd the fair, and pafs'd her beauties by?
Deluding forcerefs! ftor'd with every art
To warp the judgment, and enfnare the heart,
By thee feduced the warrior doffs his arms,

And fells his laurels for thy fofter charms:

The merchant too, caught by thy wily train,
Foregoes the rich, the golden hour of gain :
Thee the fond youth his brighter genius ftyles,
Hangs on thy looks, and lives but in thy finiles;
Bleft youth indeed, if in her fmiles fincere
His miftrefs were as conftant as fhe's fair!
Ah much misjudging, to the future blind,
Who thinks that Pleafure always will be kind!
Then when she fooths, when moft her charms delight,
Even then she meditates dishonest flight,

Bids her falfe breast with well-feign'd raptures heave,

And plays the fond one only to deceive.

HARTSON,

SECT.

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HERE the lovelieft expreffion to features is join'd,
By Nature's most delicate pencil defign'd;

Where blushes unbidden, and smiles without art,
Speak the foftnefs and feeling that dwell in the heart;
Where in manners enchanting no blemish we trace,
But the foul keeps the promise we had from the face:
Sure, philofophy, reafon, and coldness must prove
Defences unequal to fhield us from love..

Then tell me, myfterious enchanter, oh tell, By what wonderful art, by what magical spell, My heart is fo fenc'd, that for once I am wife,

And gaze without raptures on Amoret's eyes;

That my wishes, which never were bounded before, Are here bounded by friendship, and ask for no more. Is't reafon? No; that my whole life will belie,

For who fo at variance as reafon and I?

Is't ambition that fills up each chink of my heart,
Nor allows any fofter sensation a part?

Oh no! for in this all the world must agree,
One folly was never fufficient for me.

Is my mind on diftrefs too intenfely employ'd,

Or by pleasure relax'd, by variety cloy'd?
For alike in this only, employment and pain

Both flacken the ftrings of thofe nerves which they ftrain.

That I've felt each reverse that from fortune can flow, That I've tafted each blifs that the happiest know,

Has

Has ftill been the whimsical fate of my life,
Where anguish and joy have been ever at strife.
But tho' vers'd in extremes both of pleasure and pair,
I'm still but too ready to feel them again:

If then for this once in my life I am free,

And escape from a fnare might catch wiser than me; 'Tis that beauty alone but imperfectly charms, For, though brightness may dazzle, 'tis kindness that

warms.

As on funs in the winter with pleasure we gaze, But feel not their warmth, tho' their fplendour we praife;

So beauty our just admiration may claim,

But love, and love only, the heart can inflame.

Hon. CHARLES FOX

SE C T. CLXV.

A FAVOURIT SONG.

I.

W

HEN firft I came to be a man

Of twenty years or so,

I thought myself a handsome youth,
And fain the world would know;

In beft attire I ftept abroad

With spirits brisk and gay,

And here, and there, and every where,

Was like a morn in May.

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Now in the days of youthful prime
A miftrefs I must find;

For love, they fay, gives one a grace,
And ev❜n improves the mind:
On Phillis fair, above the reft,
Kind fortune fix'd mine eyes;
Her piercing beauty ftruck my heart,
And I became her prize.

IV.

To Cupid now, with hearty prayer,

I offer'd many a vow;

And danc'd, and fung, and figh'd, and fwore

As other lovers do;

But when I came to breathe my flame,

I found her cold as stone;

I left the jilt, and tun'd my pipe

To John of Badenyon.

V.

When Love had thus my

heart betray'd

With foolish hopes and vain,

* Badenyon is a village, from which the name of the air of this

forg is derived.

Te

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