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At church, in silks and sattins 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 ;
When she has walk'd before.
But now her wealth and finery fled,
Her hangers-on cut short all;
Her last disorder mortal.
Let us lament, in sorrow sore,
For Kent-street well may say,
She had not died to-day.
WEEPING, murmuring, complaining,
Lost to every gay delight; Myra, too sincere for feigning,
Fears th' approaching bridal night.
Yet why impair thy bright perfection?
Or dim thy beauty with a tear? Had Myra follow'd my direction,
She long had wanted cause of fear.
FROM THE ORATORIO OF THB
THE wretch condemn’d with life to part,
Still, still on hope relies;
Bids expectation rise.
Hope, like the glimm’ring taper's light,
Adorns and cheers the way ;
Emits a brighter ray.
O MEMORY! thou fond deceiver,
Still importunate and vain, To former joys recurring ever,
And turning all the past to pain ;
Thou, like the world, th' opprest oppressing,
Thy smiles increase the wretch's woe ! And he who wants each other blessing,
In thee must ever find a foe.
WHAT! no way left to shun th’inglorious stage,
honour dear :
* This translation was first printed in one of our Author's earliest works, “ The Present State of Learning in Europe," 12mo, 1759