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SONG,

INTENDED TO HAVE BEEN SUNG IN THE COMEDY OF 'SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER.'

Ан me! when shall I marry me?
Lovers are plenty, but fail to relieve me.
He, fond youth, that could carry me,
Offers to love, but means to deceive me.

But I will rally and combat the ruiner:
Not a look, pot a smile, shall my passion discover
She that gives all to the false one pursuing her,
Makes but a penitent, and loses a lover,

FROM THE ORATORIO OF THE CAPTIVITY.

SONG.

THE wretch condemn'd with life to part
Still, still on hope relies;

And ev'ry pang that rends the heart,
Bids expectation rise.

Hope, like the glimm'ring taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way :

And still, as darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray.

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AN ELEGY

ON THE GLORY OF HER SEX,

MRS. MARY BLAIZE.

GooD people all, with one accord,
Lament for Madam Blaize,
Who never wanted a good word—
From those who spoke her praise.

The needy seldom pass'd her door,
And always found her kind;
She freely lent to all the poor,-
Who left a pledge behind.

She strove the neighborhood to please,
With manners wondrous winning;
And never follow'd wicked ways,-
Unless when she was sinning.

At church, in silks and satins new,
With hoop of monstrous size;
She never slumber'd in her pew,→
But when she shut her eyes.

Her love was sought, I do aver,
By twenty beaux and more;
The king himself has follow'd her,
When she has walk'd before.

But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short all:

The doctors found, when she was dead,-
Her last disorder mortal.

Let us lament, in sorrow sore,
For Kent street well may say,

That had she liv'd a twelvemonth more,*
She had not died to-day.

SONG.

MEMORY, thou fond deceiver,
Still importunate and vain,
To former joys, recurring ever,
And turning all the past to pain!

Thou, like the world, the opprest oppressing

Thy smiles increase the wretch's wo!

And he who wants each other blessing,
In thee must ever find a foe.

9*

A PROLOGUE,

Written and spoken by

THE POET LABERIUS,

A ROMAN KNIGHT, WHOM сæSAR FORCED UPON THE STAGE.

Preserved by Macrobius.*

WHAT! no way left to shun th' inglorious stage,
And save from infamy my sinking age!

Scarce half-alive, oppress'd with many a year,
What in the pame of dotage drives me here?
A time there was, when glory was my guide,
Nor force nor fraud could turn my steps aside.
Unaw'd by power, and unappall'd by fear,
With honest thrift, I held my honor dear:
But this vile hour disperses all my store,
And all my hoard of honor is no more;
For ah! too partial to my life's decline,
Cæsar persuades, submission must be mine;
Him I obey whom heaven itself obeys,

*This translation was first printed in one of our au thor's earliest works. The present state of Learning in Europe. 12mo. 1759.

Hopeless of pleasing, yet inclin'd to please.
Here then at once I welcome every shame,
And cancel at threescore a life of fame;
No more my titles shall my children tell,
The old buffoon' will fit my name as well;
This day beyond its term my fate extends,
For life is ended when our honor ends.

PROLOGUE TO ZOBEIDE,

A TRAGEDY.

IN these bold times, when Learning's sons explore
The distant climates, and the savage shore;
When wise astronomers to India steer,

And quit for Venus many a brighter here;
While botanists, all cold to smiles and dimpling,
Forsake the fair, and patiently-go simpling;
Our bard into the general spirit enters,
And fits his little frigate for adventures.
With Scythian stores and trinkets deeply laden,
He this way steers his course, in hopes of trading:
Yet, ere he lands, has order'd me before,

To make au observation on the shore.

Where are we driven? our reckoning sure is lost. This seems a rocky and a dangerous coast.

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