 | Religion and Philosophy |  |
RELIGION AND PHILOSOPHY.
A Tale.
Iris
, a tender soft believing Maid,
By too much Easiness to Vice betray'd,
Lamenting now the fleeting Pleasure lost,
Her Beauty faded, and her Wishes crost;
With Shame reflects on all her Wand'rings past,
And fain would fix in Virtue's Seat at last:
Abjures the World; and, in her sable Veil,
Learns to look solemn, and devoutly rail:
But, finding still strong Conflicts in her Heart,
From Nature struggling with the Pow'r of Art,
Lives an odd Mixture of Coquet and Prude,
Awkardly Pious, and Demurely Lewd.
By too much Easiness to Vice betray'd,
Lamenting now the fleeting Pleasure lost,
Her Beauty faded, and her Wishes crost;
And fain would fix in Virtue's Seat at last:
Abjures the World; and, in her sable Veil,
Learns to look solemn, and devoutly rail:
But, finding still strong Conflicts in her Heart,
From Nature struggling with the Pow'r of Art,
Lives an odd Mixture of Coquet and Prude,
Awkardly Pious, and Demurely Lewd.
HER perjur'd Rover, whom Ambition fir'd,
(Glory the Swain, and Love the Nymph inspir'd)
The Gay Philautus, had forsook the Plain,
Seduc'd by Hopes of Honour and of Gain;
Proud to be thought a Wretched Tool of State,
Indulg'd his Vanity, and urg'd his Fate;
Till seeing Chance, not Worth, decide the Prize,
Just Patriots fall, and artful Villains rise,
He flies the Court, and all its gilded Snares;
And seeks some humble Spot, remote from Cares:
Yet, whilst he meditates this wise Retreat,
Envies, I know not how, those Fools The Great;
And, under all his self-denying Grace,
Still feels a secret Passion for a Place.
(Glory the Swain, and Love the Nymph inspir'd)
The Gay Philautus, had forsook the Plain,
Seduc'd by Hopes of Honour and of Gain;
Proud to be thought a Wretched Tool of State,
Indulg'd his Vanity, and urg'd his Fate;
Just Patriots fall, and artful Villains rise,
He flies the Court, and all its gilded Snares;
And seeks some humble Spot, remote from Cares:
Yet, whilst he meditates this wise Retreat,
Envies, I know not how, those Fools The Great;
And, under all his self-denying Grace,
Still feels a secret Passion for a Place.
Dull are our Maxims! False our grave Pretence!
Reason, at last, will prove the Dupe of Sense.
Our Age is influenc'd as our Youth inclin'd,
And the same Byass always rules the Mind.
Reason, at last, will prove the Dupe of Sense.
Our Age is influenc'd as our Youth inclin'd,
And the same Byass always rules the Mind.
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