For, as our different ages move, 'Tis so ordain'd, (would Fate but mend it!) That I shall be past making love When she begins to comprehend it. MATTHEW PRIOR. AN ODE TO MISS HARRIET HANBURY, MMM SIX YEARS OLD. HY should I thus employ my time, To paint those cheeks of rosy hue? Why should I search my brains for rhyme, To sing those eyes of glossy blue ? The power as yet is all in vain, Thy numerous charms, and various graces : They only serve to banish pain, And light up joy on parents' faces. But soon those eyes their strength shall feel, Those charms their powerful sway shall find: Youth shall in crowds before you kneel, And own your empire o'er mankind. Then, when on Beauty's throne you sit, Charms that in time shall ne'er be lost, Of verse like mine, of charms like yours. SONGS OF SOCIETY. A little vain we both may be, Since scarce another house can show A poet, that can sing like me, A beauty, that can charm like you. VALENTINE TO THE HON. M. C. STANHOPE. AIL, day of music, day of Love, Myrtles and roses, doves and sparrows, From Bethnal Green to Belgrave Square, 27 With cheeks high flush'd, and hearts loud beating, Await the tender annual greeting. The loveliest lass of all is mine Good morrow to my Valentine! Good morrow, gentle child! and then Again good morrow, and again, Good morrow following still good morrow, Shall come to claim, no more in jest, Benignant may his aspect be, It shall be so. The Muse displays THOMAS, LORD MACAULAY. TO A CERTAIN LADY AT COURT. KNOW the thing that's most common; (Envy, be silent, and attend!) I know a reasonable Woman, Handsome and witty, yet a Friend. un Not warp'd by Passion, aw'd by Rumour, And sensible soft Melancholy. "Has she no faults then (Envy says), Sir?" When all the World conspires to praise her, ALEXANDER POPE. SONG BY A PERSON OF QUALITY. SAID to my heart, between sleeping and waking, Thou wild thing, that always art leaping or aching, What black, brown, or fair, in what clime, in what nation, By turns has not taught thee a pit-a-pat-ation? Thus accused, the wild thing gave this sober reply: See the heart without motion, though Celia pass by! Not the beauty she has, or the wit that she borrows, Gives the eye any joys, or the heart any sorrows. When our Sappho appears, she whose wit's so refined, I am forced to applaud with the rest of mankind; Prudentia as vainly would put in her claim, But Chloe so lively, so easy, so fair, Her wit so genteel, without art, without care; When she comes in my way, the emotion, the pain, The leapings, the achings, return all again. O wonderful creature! a woman of reason! CHARLES, EARL OF PETERBOROUGH. WRITTEN AT TUNBRIDGE WELLS, ON MISS TEMPLE, AFTERWARDS LADY OF SIR THOMAS LYTTLETON. EAVE, leave the drawing-room, Where flowers of beauty us'd to bloom; The nymph that's fated to o'ercome, Now triumphs at the Wells. Her shape, and air, and eyes, Her face, the gay, the grave, the wise, The beau, in spite of box and dice, Acknowledge, all excels. |