Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Smile thou, my Charmer, on this last Design;
Smile thou: with Thee shall smile the tuneful Nine:
Thou, in whose bright Example we behold
More noble Lessons than the Muse has told!
How does that Form the ravish'd Fancy please,
In Morning Robes with undesigning Ease;
Tho' yet unconscious of the Toilette's Skill,
All void of Art, and negligent to kill?
But when the radiant Image I survey,
Rich with the Spoils of more than half the Day,

Prostrate I bend as to some awful Shrine,
And my aw'd Heart avows the Pow'r divine.
So charms the Sun with his beginning Light,
But his meridian Beams confound the Sight.
Too happy Tyrant, whose unbounded sway,
In ev'ry form we equally obey!
'Tis thine at will, to rule the prostrate land,
Persuade like Solon, or like Jove command.

In Dress, ye Fair, observe with nicest Art
To shew some Beauties, yet conceal a part.
Tho' frequent Sallies in a Seige are seen,
Yet still they keep a Garrison within.
When half reveal'd, your charms invite to love;
Our active Fancy will the rest improve:
Lovers, like Saints, despise what they possess,
But die for joys at which they only guess.

Mark the fair Rose-bud, at the prime of day
It's op'ning Beauties to the Sun display;
With what Reserve it's conscious folds divide,
While the coy Sweets diffuse on ev'ry side;
Such, and so modest should a Maid appear,
But when will Maids such wholesome counsel hear?

More ample Conquests will our Ladies find,
When they the Neck with sparkling Brilliants bind;
“That snowy Skin,” the whining Lover cries,
But 'tis the Necklace in his Heart he eyes;
Yet 'tis not prudent, thus adorn'd, to go
To Park, or Play, or any publick Show,
Left hapless Gamester should the treasure see,
And all his Losses be o'erpaid by thee.

Corinna once, with all her Diamonds gay,
To cure the Spleen, would needs go see the Play;
With Belles unnumber'd did the Box abound,
And Beaux, like Autumn Flies, were buzzing round.
With conscious Majesty Corinna shone,
She saw no Danger, or she dreaded none;
Ah! heedless Beauty, think, e're 'tis too late,
Ev'n thou art subject to the Frowns of Fate.
Fortune at best is but a courtly Foe,
And when she smiles, she meditates the Blow.

Now fell the Curtain, like the hand of Fate,
O'er mimic Thrones, and visionary State;
To servile Life arose the mighty Dead,
And Kings depos'd went supperless to bed:
Corinna cautious thro' the Crowd withdrew,
(Nor Chair nor Flambeau yet within her view)

A hungry Sharper had her Necklace spy'd,
For Bread he wanted what she wore for Pride:
Strait Hero-like to Mercury he pray'd,
And thus invok'd the Patron of his Trade:
“Great King of Jugglers! whose propitious sway
“The Statesman, Pilferer, and Pimp obey;
“If by thy aid successful still, and free,
“I brave the threefold Horrors of the Tree;
“Give me to snatch yon glorious Spoils away,
“And hear the Spoils I promise to repay.
“This glitt'ring Rapier, from a Beau purloin'd,
“A Beauty's Pray'r-Book of the fairest kind,
“Unsullied both, and worn but for Disguise;
“A Widow's Handkerchief shall crown the prize.”
He said. And round the Waste the struggling Fair
He seiz'd, nor stop'd the bold intruder there;
Just on that Part, too mystic here to name,
Where dwells the Maid's imaginary Fame,
He fix'd his ruffian hand; while from behind
His Comrade, like himself, in vice refin'd,
Far off, and fated to return no more,
The beamy splendors of her Necklace bore.

Of signal use the flutt'ring Fan will prove,
If train'd with care, and disciplin'd to move.
By this the Beau his Mistress' Temper spies;
(Experienc'd Lovers trust not to her Eyes)

By this alone your true Adepts will find
Her thousand momentary turns of Mind:
Thrice blest Machine! that shews with matchless Art
The dark Arcana of a Female Heart!

If the rude Sticks their sounding ranks engage,
Retreat betimes, nor tempt her rising Rage:
Or when the Mount with rapid Motion bends,
And now contracts by Fits, and now extends:
When here and there the varying Figures fly,
And glance like Light'ning on the dazzl'd eye;
Gods, Rivers, Nymphs, an inconsistent train,
Promiscuous jostle on the painted plain:
Then may you see Resentment in her Eyes,
And on her Lip the pouting Purple rise:
Now vain Resistance will but more offend;
Retreat, says Homer, nor with Gods contend.

As the same Sun, by his departing Ray,
Fore'ells the ratling Storm or genial Day;
So plays the Fan, an Emblem of the Dame,
If Anger discompose or Love enflame:
On every Motion your Attention fix,
And mark with care the sympathetic Sticks.

When warmest Passions wanton in the mind,
And pungent Nature urges to be kind;

Then slowly op'ning will the Folds divide,
And part reveal their charms, and partly hide:
From side to side the dubious Sticks will play,
With artless motion, indolently gay:
Gently they flutter, and at first defy,
Then languid fall, and in a Murmur die.

To dress the shapely Leg with nicest art,
In female life is no unmeaning part.
With thousand Charms let other Nymphs be blest,
The Diamond-sparkling Eyes, and snowy Breast;
This be Thy lot, and thou shalt far excel
Those boasted Beauties of the courtly Belle;
She may perhaps our Praise or Wonder move,
But thou shalt animate and warm to Love.
Fine Eyes, like distant Stars, amuse the Sight
With the cold glimm'rings of enervate Light:
This, like the Sun, shall generous Life impart,
At once engage the Eye and reach the Heart;
When his hot Beams the Summer's Pride renew,
And turgid Nature kindles at the view.

If white the Stocking, for a farther Grace,
Let the red Clock the tender Leg embrace;
Round the fair pillar let it gently twine,
Like the young Tendrils of the wanton Vine.

100

Thus often is the graceful Anckle seen,
From the proud structure of some gilt Machine:
Thus sometimes shewn by the designing Fair;
Too much (ye Gods) for mortal Eyes to bear!
We gaze and wonder at the Frame divine:
If such the Columns, what must be the Shrine?

A nobler Task now claims the Muse's aid,
(Instructive Lesson to the rip'ning Maid.)
How Hearts, like Squirrels, may be train'd by care
To hug with Pride the gew-gaw Chains they bear.
In hours of Spleen divert the thoughtful dame,
And still be ever teiz'd, and ever tame.

First then, Materials for your purpose chuse,
For there are Hearts too abject ev'n t' abuse:
Wit is to Beauty the most glorious Prey;
Few Fools the Labour of the Conquest pay.
What Hunter would the feeble Hind pursue,
When the fierce Lion stalks within his view?
He struggles in the Toil, a warlike Prize,
Provokes his Chains, and ev'n in Death defies.

Fools, like the Eel, at every trifle bite;
Nay seize their plunder, tho' the Hook's in Sight:
Like the sage Carp the Wise survey the Bait,
And heedful hover round suspected Fate;

101

Hard to entice, and stubborn to subdue,
A Prize to gain, a Pleasure to pursue.

No easy Task our studious Fair will find,
To mould at will the head-strong Lover's Mind,
When stern Reflection rises to his aid,
When rebel Reason shall from Love dissuade:
To charm that Dragon be your foremost care,
The grand Opposer of your Sex is there:
Nature is weak, unequal to the Part,
Each Look, each Motion must depend on Art.
Sighs, Smiles, and Tears (a never-failing band)
Must well be disciplin'd, and still at hand.
Each ready Feature must the signal know,
When these at will shall rise, and those shall flow.
Did constant Sun-shine gild the rolling year,
'Twould blast the Harvest it was made to cheer:
So, but forgive the Parallel, ye Fair,
So, if the Sun we may with you compare,
Desire will fade, where Smiles incessant play;
And Love, the tender Blossom, fade away.

To weep with Judgment is no useless part:
Tears have their Force, and reach the inmost Heart;
Nay Tears well-tim'd can ev'n Indifference move,
That worst Rebellion in the State of Love.
Tho' the false Beau has long estrang'd his Mind;
Tho' Oaths, tho' Gratitude no more can bind;

102

Tears shall again his gentle Heart recal;
Again the Recreant at thy feet shall fall;
Again shall laugh, sigh, ogle, squeeze the hand,
And lisp out Love too soft to understand.

And now, ye Fair, my finish'd Task forgive;
Propitious smile, and let these Labours live.
As sage Astronomers, for praise or pay,
Thro' human Eyes the heav'nly Orbs survey;
And wisely frantic in deluded schools,
To wanton Planets fix fictitious Rules;
While They at random run their fiery race,
Beyond the reach of mortal Wit to trace:
So I, with equal Impotence of Mind,
Have studied Laws to fetter Womankind.
Again, ye Fair, forgive; but chiefly Thou,
To whom alike in Prose or Rhime I bow;
More would I prize, for these unpolish'd Lays,
Thy single Pardon, than a Kingdom's Praise.