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? Just when she learns to roll a melting eye, s
And hear a spark, yet think no danger nigh;
From the dear man unwilling she must sever,
Yet takes one kiss before she parts for ever:
Thus from the world fair Zephalinda flew,
Saw others happy, and with sighs withdrew;
Not that their pleasures caus'd her discontent,
She figh'd not that they stay'd, but that she went. 10
She went to plain-work, and to purling brooks,
Old-fashion’d halls, dull Aunts, and croaking rooks :
She went from Op'ra, Park, Assembly, Play,
To morning-walks, and pray’rs three hours a day;
To part her time 'twixt reading and bohea, IS
To muse, and spill 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 stories to the squire;
Coronation.] Of King George the first, 1715. P.
Up to her godly garret after fev'n,
There starve and pray, for that's the way to heav'n.
Some Squire, perhaps, you take delight to rack ;
Whose game is Whisk, whose treat a toast in fack;
Who visits with a Gun, presents you birds, 25
Theo gives a smacking buss, and cries,-No words !
Or with his hound comes hallowing from the stable,
Makes love with nods, and knees beneath a table;
Whose laughs are hearty, tho' his jeits are coarse,
And loves you best of all things--but his horse. 30
In some fair ev’ning, on your elbow laid,
You dream of Triumphs in the rural shade ;
In pensive thought recall the fancy'd scene,
See Coronations rife on ev'ry green ;
Before you pass th' imaginary fights
35 Of Lords, and Earls, and Dukes, and garter'd
Knights, While the spread fan o'ershades your closing eyes ; Then give one Airt and all the vision flies. Thus vanish sceptres, coronets, and balls, And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls ! 40
So when your Slave, at fome dear idle time, (Not plagu'd with þread-achs, or the want of rhyme) Stands in the streets, abstracted from the crew, and while he seems to study, thinks of you ; Just when his fancy points your sprightly eyes, 45 Or fees the blush of soft Parthenia rise, Gay pats my shoulder, and you vanish quite, Streets, Chairs, and Coxcombs rush upon my fight; Vex'd to be still in town, I knit my brow, Look four, and hum a Tune, as you may now. 50
THE Basset-Table spread, the Tallier come;
Rise, pensive Nymph, the Ta lier waits for you:
Ah, Madam, fince my SHARPER is untrue
I joyless make my once ador d Alpeu.
I saw him stand behind UMBRELIA's Chair,
And whisper with that soft deluding air,
And those feign'd fighs which cheat the liftning
CARDELIA. Is this the cause of your Romantick strains ? A mightier grief my heavy heart sustains. 10
NOTES. The Balet Table.] Only this of all the Town Eclogues was Mr. Pope's ; and is here printed from a copy corrected by his own hand. The humour of it conlills in this, that the one is in love with the Game, and the other with the Sharper.
As You by Love, so I by Fortune cross't;
One, one bad Deal, Three Septleva's have lost.
Is that the grief, which you compare with mine?
With ease, the smiles of Fortune I resign:
Would all my gold in one bad Deal were gone; 15
Were lovely SHARPER mine, and mine alone.
CARDELIA. A Lover loft, is but a common care ; And prudent Nymphs against that change prepare : The KNAVE OF CLUBS thrice loit: Oh! who could
guess This fatal stroke, this unforeseen Distress ?
See. Betty LoveT! very à propos,
She all the cares of Love and Play does know:
Dear Betty shall th' important point decide;
Betty, who of the pain of each has try'd;
Impartial, she shall say who suffers most, 25
By Cards' III Usage, or by Lovers loft.
L O V E T.
Tell, tell your griefs ; attentive will I stay,
Tho'time is precious, and I want some Tea.
Behold this Equipage, by Mathers wrought,
With Fifty Guineas (a great Pen’worth) bought. 3°
See on the Tooth-pick, Mars and Cupid strive;
And both the struggling figures seem alive.
Upon the bottom shines the Queen's bright Pace;
A Myrtle Foliage round the Thimble-Cafe.
Jove, Jove himself, does on the Scizars shine;
35 The Metal, and the Workmanship, divine !.
This Snuff-Box,- once the pledge of SHARPER'S
When rival beauties for the Present strove;
At Corticelli's he the Raffle won;
Then first his Passion was in public shown: 40
HAZARDIA blush'd, and turn'd her Head afide,
A Rival's envy (all in vain) to hide.
This Snuff-Box, on the Hinge see Brilliants shine:
This Snuff-Box will I take; the Prize is mine.
Alas ! far lefser losses than I bear,
Have made a Soldier sigh, a Lover swear.
And Oh! what makes the disappointment hard,
'Twas my own Lord that drew the fatal Card.
In complaisance, I took the Queen he gave;
Tho'my own secret wish was for the Knave. 50
The Knave won Sonica, which I had chose;
And the next Pull, my Septleva I lose.
But ah! what aggravates the killing smart,
The cruel thought, that stabs me to the heart;
This cursid OMBRELIA, this undoing Fair, 55
By whose vile arts this heavy grief I bear;
She, at whose name I shed these spiteful tears,
She owes to me the
charms she wears.