The Poetical Works of Edward Young Part 12

She tries a thousand arts; but none succeed: She's forc'd a fever to procure indeed: Thus strictly prov'd this virtuous, loving wife, Her husband's pain was dearer than her life.

Anxious Melania rises to my view, Who never thinks her lover pays his due: Visit, present, treat, flatter, and adore; Her majesty, to-morrow, calls for more.

His wounded ears complaints eternal fill, As unoil'd hinges, querulously shrill.

"You went last night with Celia to the ball."

You prove it false. "Not go! that's worst of all."

Nothing can please her, nothing not inflame; And arrant contradictions are the same.

Her lover must be sad, to please her spleen; His mirth is an inexpiable sin: For of all rivals that can pain her breast, There's one, that wounds far deeper than the rest; To wreck her quiet, the most dreadful shelf Is if her lover dares enjoy himself.

And this, because she's exquisitely fair: Should I dispute her beauty, how she'd stare!

How would Melania be surpris'd to hear She's quite deform'd! And yet the case is clear; What's female beauty, but an air divine, Thro' which the mind's all gentle graces s.h.i.+ne?

They, like the sun, irradiate all between; The body charms because the soul is seen.

Hence, men are often captives of a face, They know not why, of no peculiar grace: Some forms, tho' bright, no mortal man can bear; Some, none resist, tho' not exceeding fair.

Aspasia's highly born, and nicely bred, Of taste refin'd, in life and manners read; Yet reaps no fruit from her superior sense, But to be teaz'd by her own excellence.

"Folks are so awkward! things so unpolite!"

She's elegantly pain'd from morn till night.

Her delicacy's shock'd where'er she goes; Each creature's imperfections are her woes.

Heaven by its favour has the fair distrest, And pour'd such blessings-that she can't be blest.

Ah! why so vain, though blooming in thy spring, Thou s.h.i.+ning, frail, ador'd, and wretched thing?

Old age will come; disease may come before; Fifteen is full as mortal as threescore.

Thy fortune, and thy charms, may soon decay: But grant these fugitives prolong their stay, Their basis totters, their foundation shakes; Life, that supports them, in a moment breaks; Then wrought into the soul let virtues s.h.i.+ne; The ground eternal, as the work divine.

Julia's a manager; she's born for rule; And knows her wiser husband is a fool; a.s.semblies holds, and spins the subtle thread That guides the lover to his fair one's bed: For difficult amours can smooth the way, And tender letters dictate, or convey.

But if depriv'd of such important cares, Her wisdom condescends to less affairs.

For her own breakfast she'll project a scheme, Nor take her tea without a stratagem; Presides o'er trifles with a serious face; Important by the virtue of grimace.

Ladies supreme among amus.e.m.e.nts reign; By nature born to soothe, and entertain.

Their prudence in a share of folly lies: Why will they be so weak, as to be wise?

Syrena is for ever in extremes, And with a vengeance she commends, or blames.

Conscious of her discernment, which is good, She strains too much to make it understood.

Her judgment just, her sentence is too strong; Because she's right, she's ever in the wrong.

Brunetta's wise in actions great, and rare; But scorns on trifles to bestow her care.

Thus ev'ry hour Brunetta is to blame, Because th' occasion is beneath her aim, Think nought a trifle, though it small appear; Small sands the mountain, moments make the year, And trifles life. Your care to trifles give, Or you may die, before you truly live.

Go breakfast with Alicia, there you'll see, Simplex munditiis, to the last degree: Unlac'd her stays, her night-gown is untied, And what she has of head-dress is aside.

She drawls her words, and waddles in her pace; Unwash'd her hands, and much besnuff'd her face.

A nail uncut, and head uncomb'd, she loves; And would draw on jack-boots, as soon as gloves.

Gloves by Queen Bess's maidens might be miss'd; Her blessed eyes ne'er saw a female fist.

Lovers, beware! to wound how can she fail With scarlet finger, and long jetty nail?

For Harvey the first wit she cannot be, Nor, cruel Richmond, the first toast for thee.

Since full each other station of renown, Who would not be the greatest trapes in town?

Women were made to give our eyes delight; A female sloven is an odious sight.

Fair Isabella is so fond of fame, That her dear self is her eternal theme; Through hopes of contradiction, oft she'll say, "Methinks I look so wretchedly to-day!"

When most the world applauds you, most beware; 'Tis often less a blessing than a snare.

Distrust mankind; with your own heart confer; And dread even there to find a flatterer.

The breath of others raises our renown; Our own as surely blows the pageant down.

Take up no more than you by worth can claim, Lest soon you prove a bankrupt in your fame.

But own I must, in this perverted age, Who most deserve, can't always most engage.

So far is worth from making glory sure, It often hinders what it should procure.

Whom praise we most? The virtuous, brave, and wise?

No; wretches, whom, in secret, we despise.

And who so blind, as not to see the cause?

No rivals rais'd by such discreet applause; And yet, of credit it lays in a store, By which our spleen may wound true worth the more.

Ladies there are who think one crime is all: Can women, then, no way but backward fall?

So sweet is that one crime they don't pursue, To pay its loss, they think all others few.

Who hold that crime so dear, must never claim Of injur'd modesty the sacred name.

But Clio thus: "What! railing without end?

Mean task! how much more gen'rous to commend!"

Yes, to commend as you are wont to do, My kind instructor, and example too.

"Daphnis," says Clio, "has a charming eye: What pity 'tis her shoulder is awry!

Aspasia's shape indeed-but then her air- The man has parts who finds destruction there.

Almeria's wit has something that's divine; And wit's enough-how few in all things s.h.i.+ne!

Selina serves her friends, relieves the poor- Who was it said Selina's near threescore?

At Lucia's match I from my soul rejoice; The world congratulates so wise a choice; His lords.h.i.+p's rent-roll is exceeding great- But mortgages will sap the best estate.

In Sherley's form might cherubims appear; But then-she has a freckle on her ear."

Without a but, Hortensia she commends, The first of women, and the best of friends; Owns her in person, wit, fame, virtue, bright: But how comes this to pa.s.s?-She died last night.

Thus nymphs commend, who yet at satire rail: Indeed that's needless, if such praise prevail.

And whence such praise? Our virulence is thrown On others' fame, thro' fondness for our own.

Of rank and riches proud, Cleora frowns; For are not coronets akin to crowns?

Her greedy eye, and her sublime address, The height of avarice and pride confess.

You seek perfections worthy of her rank; Go, seek for her perfections at the bank.

By wealth unquench'd, by reason uncontrol'd, For ever burns her sacred thirst of gold.

As fond of five-pence, as the veriest cit; And quite as much detested as a wit.

Can gold calm pa.s.sion, or make reason s.h.i.+ne?

Can we dig peace, or wisdom, from the mine?

Wisdom to gold prefer; for 'tis much less To make our fortune, than our happiness.

That happiness which great ones often see, With rage and wonder, in a low degree; Themselves unblest. The poor are only poor; But what are they who droop amid their store?

Nothing is meaner than a wretch of state; The happy only are the truly great.

Peasants enjoy like appet.i.tes with kings; And those best satisfied with cheapest things.

Could both our Indies buy but one new sense, Our envy would be due to large expense.

Since not, those pomps which to the great belong, Are but poor arts to mark them from the throng.

See how they beg an alms of flattery!

They languis.h.!.+ oh support them with a lie!

A decent competence we fully taste; It strikes our sense, and gives a constant feast: More, we perceive by dint of thought alone; The rich must labor to possess their own, To feel their great abundance; and request Their humble friends to help them to be blest; To see their treasures, hear their glory told, And aid the wretched impotence of gold.

But some, great souls! and touch'd with warmth divine, Give gold a price, and teach its beams to s.h.i.+ne.

All h.o.a.rded treasures they repute a load; Nor think their wealth their own, till well bestow'd.

Grand reservoirs of public happiness, Through secret streams diffusively they bless; And, while their bounties glide conceal'd from view, Relieve our wants, and spare our blushes too.

But satire is my task; and these destroy Her gloomy province, and malignant joy.

Help me, ye misers! help me to complain, And blast our common enemy, Germain: But our invectives must despair success; For next to praise, she values nothing less.

What picture's yonder, loosen'd from its frame?

Or is't Asturia? that affected dame.

The brightest forms, through affectation, fade To strange new things, which nature never made.

Frown not, ye fair! so much your s.e.x we prize, We hate those arts that take you from our eyes.

In Albucinda's native grace is seen What you, who labour at perfection, mean.

Short is the rule, and to be learnt with ease, Retain your gentle selves, and you must please.

Here might I sing of Memmia's mincing mien, And all the movements of the soft machine: How two red lips affected zephyrs blow, To cool the Bohea, and inflame the beau: While one white finger, and a thumb, conspire To lift the cup, and make the world admire.

Tea! how I tremble at thy fatal stream!

As Lethe, dreadful to the love of fame.

What devastations on thy banks are seen!

What shades of mighty names which once have been!

An hecatomb of characters supplies Thy painted altars' daily sacrifice.

H--, P--, B--, aspers'd by thee, decay, As grains of finest sugars melt away, And recommend thee more to mortal taste: Scandal's the sweet'ner of a female feast.

But this inhuman triumph shall decline, And thy revolting naiads call for wine; Spirits no longer shall serve under thee; But reign in thy own cup, exploded tea!

Citronia's nose declares thy ruin nigh, And who dares give Citronia's nose the lie?(16) The ladies long at men of drink exclaim'd, And what impair'd both health and virtue, blam'd; At length, to rescue man, the generous la.s.s Stole from her consort the pernicious gla.s.s; As glorious as the British queen renown'd, Who suck'd the poison from her husband's wound.

Nor to the gla.s.s alone are nymphs inclin'd, But every bolder vice of bold mankind.