From hence proceed averfion, ftrife,
And all that fours the wedded life.
Beauty can only point the dart,
'Tis neatnefs guides it to the heart;
Let neatness then, and beauty strive
To keep a wav'ring flame alive.
"Tis harder far (you'll find it true)
To keep the conqueft, than fubdue;
Admit us once behind the fcreen,
What is there farther to be feen?
A newer face may raise the flame,
But every woman is the fame.
Then ftudy chiefly to improve
The charm, that fix'd your husband's love,
Weigh well his humour. Was it dress,
That gave your beauty power to bless ?
Purfue it ftill; be neater feen;
'Tis always frugal to be clean;
So fhall you keep alive defire,
And time's fwift wing fhall fan the fire.
In garret high (as ftories fay)
A Poet fung his tuneful lay;
So foft, fo fmooth his verfe, you'd fwear
Apollo and the mufes there:
Thro' all the town his praises rung,
His fonnets at the Play-houfe fung;
High waving o'er his lab'ring head,
The goddefs Want her pinions fpread,
And with poetic fury fir'd
What Phoebus faintly had infpir'd.
A noble youth of taste and wit,
Approv'd the fprightly things he writ,
And fought him in his cobweb doine,
Discharged his rent, and brought him home.
Behold him at the ftately board,
Who, but the Poet and my Lord!
Each day, deliciously he dines,
And greedy quaffs the gen'rous wines ;
His fides were plump, his fkin was fleek,
And plenty wanton'd on his cheek ;
Aftonish'd at the change fo new,
Away th' infpiring goddess flew.
Now, dropt for politics and news,
Neglected lay the drooping muse ;
Unmindful whence his fortune came,
He fifled the poetic flame;
Nor tale, nor fonnet, for my lady,
Lampoon, nor epigram was ready.
With juft contempt his patron faw,
(Refolv'd his bounty to withdraw)
And thus with anger in his look,
The late repenting fool bespoke.
Blind to the good that co: ts thee grown,
Whence has the fun of favour fhone?
Delighted with thy tuneful art,
Efteem was growing in my heart,
But idly thou reject'it the charm,
That gave it birth, and kept it warm.
Unthinking fools, alone defpife
The arts, that taught them first to rife.
There is fomething very original, as well as droll and fatyrical, in the following Fable by Mr. Smart.
The BAG-WIG and the TOBACCO-PIPE.
A bag-wig of a jauntee air,
Trick'd up with all a barber's care,
Loaded with powder and perfume,
Hung in a spend thrift's dreffing room;
Clofe by its fide, by chance convey'd,
A black tobacco-pipe was laid;
And with its vapours far and near
Out ftunk the effence of monfieur:
At which its rage, the thing of hair,
Thus, brifting up, began declare :
"Bak'd dirt, that with intrusion rude
"Breaks in upon my folitude;
"And with thy fetid breath defiles
"The air for forty thousand miles.
Avaunt-pollution's in thy touch-
"Oh barborous English!-horrid Dutch!
"I cannot bear it. Here, Sue, Nan,
"Go, call the maid to call the man,
"And bid him come without delay,
"To take this odious pipe away.—
"Hideous! fure fome one fmoak'd thee, friend,
"Reversely at his t'other end.
"Oh, what mixt odours! what a throng
"Of falt and four, and ftale and strong!
"A most unnatural combination,
"Enough to mar all perfpiration.-
"Monstrous!-again-'twou'd vex a faint.
Sufan, the drops-or elfe I faint!"—
The pipe (for 'twas a pipe of foul)
Raifing himself upon his bowl,
In imoak, like oracle of old,
Did thus his fentiments unfold:
"Why what's the matter, goodman Swagger,
"Thou flanting, French, fantastic bragger,
"Whose whole fine fpeech is (with a pox)
"Ridiculous and heterodox.
" 'Twas better for the English nation
"Before fuch fcoundrels came in fashion ;
"When none fought hair in realms unknown,
"But ev'ry blockhead wore his own.
Know, puppy, I'm an English pipe,
"Deem'd worthy of each Briton's gripe ;
"Who with my cloud-compelling aid
"Help our plantations and our trade;
"And am, when fober and when mellow,
"An upright, downright honeft fellow.
"Tho' fools, like you, may think me rough,
"And fcorn me 'cause I am in buff,
"Yet your contempt I glad receive,
"Tis all the fame that you can give.
"None finery or fopp'ry prize
"But they who've fomething to difguife;
"For fimple nature hates abuse,
"And PLAINNESS is the dress of USE.
What has been faid on the Fable leads me to a confideration of the more fublime and enterprifing part of
allegorical poetry; which gives life and action to virtues and vices, to paffions and diseases, to natural and moral qualities; and introduces goblins, fairies, and other imaginary perfonages and things, acting as divine, human, or infernal beings; and by that means affords matter and machinery fufficient even for an heroic poem: which has pafs'd unregarded by the writers on the Art of Poetry, notwithstanding these airy difguifes are, as it were, the very quinteffence or foul of the science.
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