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Mufe! at that Name thy facred forrows shed, Those tears eternal, that embalm the dead : Call round her Tomb each object of defire, Each purer frame inform'd with purer fire: Bid her be all that chears or foftens life,: The tender fifter, daughter, friend and wife: Bid her be all that makes mankind adore; Then view this Marble, and be vain no more! Yet ftill her charms in breathing paint engage;` Her modeft cheek fhall warm a future age. Beauty, frail flow'r that ev'ry season fears, Blooms in thy colours for a thousand years. Thus Churchill's race fhall other hearts surprize, And other Beauties envy Worley's eyes; Each pleafing Blount fhall endless smiles bestow, And foft Belinda's blufh for ever glow.

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Oh lafting as thofe Colours may they shine,
Free as thy ftroke, yet faultlefs as thy line;
New graces yearly like thy works display,
Soft without weakness, without glaring gay;
Led by fome rule, that guides, but not constrains;
And finish'd more thro' happiness than pains.
The kindred Arts fhall in their praise conspire,
One dip the pencil, and one ftring the lyre.
Yet fhould the Graces all thy figures place,
And breathe an air divine on ev'ry face;
Yet fhould the Muses bid my numbers roll
Strong as their charms, and gentle as their foul;
With Zeuxis' Helen thy Bridgewater vie,
And these be fung 'till Granville's Myra die:
Alas! how little from the grave we claim!
Thou but preferv'ft a Face, and I a Name.

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EPISTLE

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ΤΟ

N thefe gay thoughts the Loves and Grace
And all the Writer lives in ev'ry line;
His eafy Art may happy Nature feem,
Trifles themselves are elegant in him.
Sure to charm all was his peculiar fate,
Who without flatt'ry pleas'd the fair and great;
Still with esteem no less convers'd than read;
With wit well-natur'd, and with books well-bred :
His heart, his mistress, and his friend did share,
His time, the Mufe, the witty, and the fair.
Thus wifely careless, innocently gay,
Chearful he play'd the trifle, Life, away;
'Till fate scarce felt his gentle breath fuppreft,"
As fmiling Infants sport themselves to rest.
Ev'n rival Wits did Voiture's death deplore,
And the gay mourn'd who never mourn'd before;
The trueft hearts for Voiture heav'd with fighs,
Voiture was wept by all the brightest Eyes:
The Smiles and Loves had dy'd in Voiture's death,
But that for ever in his lines they breathe.

Let the ftrict life of graver mortals be
A long, exact, and serious Comedy;
In ev'ry scene fome Moral let it teach,
And, if it can, at once both please and preach.
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Let

Let mine, an innocent gay farce appear,

And more diverting ftill than regular,

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Have Humour, Wit, a native Ease and Grace,
Tho' not too ftrictly bound to Time and Place:
Critics in Wit, or Life, are hard to please,
Few write to those, and none can live to these. 30
Too much your Sex is by their forms confin'd,
Severe to all, but most to Womankind;
Cuftom, grown blind with Age, muft be your guide;
Your pleasure is a vice, but not your pride;

By Nature yielding, ftubborn but for fame;

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Made Slaves by honour, and made Fools by shame.
Marriage may all those petty Tyrants chase,
But fets up one, a greater in their place;

Well might you wish for change by those accurft,
But the last Tyrant ever proves the worst.
Still in conftraint your fuff'ring Sex remains,
Or bound in formal, or in real chains:
Whole years neglected, for fome months ador'd,
The fawning Servant turns a haughty Lord.
Ah quit not the free innocence of life,
For the dull glory of a virtuous Wife;
Nor let falfe Shews, or empty Titles please:
Aim not at Joy, but reft content with Ease.

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The Gods, to curfe Pamela with her pray'rs, Gave the gilt Coach and dappled Flanders Mares, The fhining robes, rich jewels, beds of state, And, to compleat her blifs, a Fool for Mate. She glares in Balls, front Boxes, and the Ring, A vain, unquiet, glitt'ring, wretched Thing! Pride, Pomp, and State but reach her outward part; She fighs, and is no Duchefs at her heart.

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But,

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But, Madam, if the fates withstand, and you Are deftin'd Hymen's willing Victim too; Truft not too much your now refistless charms, Those, Age or Sickness, foon or late difarms: Good humour only teaches charms to last, Still makes new conquefts, and maintains the paft; Love, rais'd on Beauty, will like that decay, Our hearts may bear its flender chain a day; As flow'ry bands in wantonness are worn, A morning's pleasure, and at evening torn ; This binds in ties more eafy, yet more strong, The willing heart, and only holds it long.

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Thus Voiture's early care ftill fhone the fame, And Monthaufier was only chang'd in name: By this, ev'n now they live, ev'n now they charm, Their Wit still sparkling, and their flames ftill warm.

Now crown'd with Myrtle, on th' Elyfian coaft,
Amid thofe Lovers, joys his gentle Ghost:
Pleas'd, while with fmiles his happy lines you view,
And finds a fairer Ramboüillet in you.

The brightest eyes of France, infpir'd his Mufe;
The brightest eyes of Britain now perufe;

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And dead, as living, 'tis our Author's pride
Still to charm those who charm the world befide.

*Mademoiselle Paulet. P.

EPIST LE

To the fame,

On her leaving the Town after the CORO

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NATION.

S fome fond Virgin, whom her mother's care
Drags from the Town to wholesome Coun-

try air,

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Juft when she learns to roll a melting eye,
And hear a fpark, yet think no danger nigh;
From the dear man unwilling she must sever,
Yet takes one kifs before fhe parts for ever:
Thus from the world fair Zephalinda flew,
Saw others happy, and with fighs withdrew;
Not that their pleasures caus'd her discontent,
She figh'd not that they stay'd, but that she went.
She went to plain-work, and to purling brooks,
Old-fashion'd halls, dull Aunts, and croaking rooks:
She went from Op'ra, Park, Affembly, Play,
To morning-walks, and pray'rs three hours a day;
To part her time 'twixt reading and bohea,
To mufe, and fpill' her folitary tea,

Or o'er cold coffee trifle with the spoon,
Count the flow clock, and dine exact at noon;
Divert her eyes with pictures in the fire,
Hum half a tune, tell ftories to the fquire;
Coronation.] Of King George the first, 1715.

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