In vain th' obferver eyes the builder's toil,

But quite mistakes the scaffold for the pile.

In this one paffion man can ftrength enjoy,
As Fits give vigor, just when they destroy.
Time, that on all things lays his lenient hand,
Yet tames not this; it flicks to our laft fand.
Confitent in our follies and our fins,
Here honeft Nature ends as she begins.
Old Politicians chew on wisdom past,
And totter on in bus'ness to the last ;
As weak, as earneft; and as gravely out,
As fober Lanesb'row dancing in the gout.

Behold a rev'rend fire, whom want of grace
Has made the father of a nameless race,
Shov'd from the wall perhaps, or rudely prefs'd
By his own fon, that paffes by unblefs'd:
Still to his wench he crawls on knocking knees,
And envies ev'ry fparrow that he fees.

A falmon's belly, Helluo, was thy fate;
The doctor call'd, declares all help too late :

220

225

230

235

VER. 227. Here honeft Nature ends as she begins.] Human nature is here humourously called boneft, as the impulse of the ruling paffion (which she gives and cherishes) makes her more and more impatient of disguise.

VER. 231. Lanefb'row] An ancient Nobleman, who continued this practice long after his legs were disabled by the gout. Upon the death of Prince George of Denmark, he demanded an audience of the Queen, to advise her to preferve her health and difpel her grief by Dancing.

240

Mercy! cries Helluo, mercy on my foul! "Is there no hope?-Alas!—then bring the jowl." The frugal Crone, whom praying priefts attend, Still strives to fave the hallow'd taper's end, Collects her breath, as ebbing life retires, For one puff more, and in that puff expires. "Odious! in woollen! 'twould a faint provoke, (Were the laft words that poor Narciffa spoke) "No, let a charming Chintz, and Bruffels lace

245

:

Wrap my cold limbs, and shade my lifeless face "One would not, fure, be frightful when one's dead"And-Betty-give this Cheek a little Red." 251 The Courtier smooth, who forty years had fhin'd

An humble fervant to all human kind,

Juft brought out this, when fcarce his tongue could ftir,

256

"If-where I'm going-I could ferve you, Sir?" "I give and I devife (old Euclio faid, And figh'd)

66 my lands and tenements to Ned.

Your money, Sir?

rr

My money, Sir, what all?

Why,if I muft-(then wept) I give it Paul.

VER. 242. The frugal Crone,] A fact told him, of a Lady

at Paris.

VER. 247. - The laft Words that poor Narcissa Spoke] This ftory, as well as the others, is founded on fact, though the author had the goodness not to mention the names. Several attribute this in particular to a very celebrated Actress, who, in deteftation of the thought of being buried in woollen, gave these her laft orders with her dying breath.

The Manor, Sir?" The Manor! hold, he cry'd,

"Not that, I cannot part with that”-- and dy’d. And you! brave COBHAM, to the latest breath 262 Shall feel your ruling paffion ftrong in death:

Such in those moments as in all the past,

Oh, fave my Country, Heav'n! " shall be your last.

In Men, we various ruling Passions find, In Women, two almost divide the Kind: Those only fixed, they first or last obey; The Love of Pleasure, and the Love of Iway.

Char of Women.