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STELLA.
 
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148

STELLA.

AN ODE.

A very heathen in the carnal part,
And yet a sad good christian at the heart;
Whether the charmer sinner-it, or saint-it,
Where folly grows romantic, we must paint it.
Pope.

My Stella is divinely fair,
Love sparkles in her eye;
With Helen Stella may compare;
With Venus' self may vie.
Radiant as the God of day,
Who lights this earthly ball;
Like him, too, with indulgent ray,
She smiles alike on all.
A thousand arts the fair one tries,
To gain extensive sway;

149

While her obedient practis'd eyes,
In wanton gambols play.
Behold, at Strephon how she leers,
With signs of ardent love;
Thro' partial eyes the nymph appears,
As gentle as a dove.
And yet deceitful as the stream,
Tho' deep, that gently flows;
She never is what she would seem,
For truth and she are foes.
Now see her cast the tender glance,
When Damon passes by;
Lo! in her eyes what Cupids dance,
How heaves the melting sigh.
Palæmon, next, by artful clue,
Is drawn into her net,
And vainly thinks his conquest sure,
Beyond the frowns of fate.

150

By turns the fair one they admire,
By turns the charmer view;
Enflam'd by one ambitious fire,
One prize they all pursue.
While, like poor Tantalus in hell,
Each pines 'twixt hope and grief;
Her eyes a thousand falshoods tell,
And promise each relief.
Stella take counsel with a friend,
For once let me advise;
Then check, more sure, to gain your end,
The wand'ring of your eyes.
What tho', perhaps, your tender breast,
No guilty thoughts inspire;
The wanton in the looks impress'd;
May kindle impious fire.
'Tis like, you say, you chuse to reign;
To make mankind your slaves;

151

To see around a gazing train,
Of what?—of fools, or knaves.
But ah! the short-liv'd sway, how poor,
When bought at honour's cost;
How shrinks the triumph of an hour,
When reputation's lost!
Reflect that men will conquests boast,
And favours never granted;
That worth of reputation lost,
Is never known till wanted.
Tho' beauties now your face adorn,
Tho' charms are now display'd,
Which emulate the blushing morn;
Those charms too soon must fade.
How much soe'er love's softest bloom,
May catch the wond'ring eye;
When hoary age, and wrinkles come,
The transient raptures die.
Consider that the fairest flow'rs,
Run swiftest to decay;

152

That time relentless all devours,
Nor knows a moment's stay.
'Tis virtue gives the tranquil mind,
In nature's last sad stage,
'Tis she supports all human kind;
Youth's pride—and prop of age.
Tho' to time's wide tyrannic sway,
Nature herself must yield;
Virtue her ensigns will display,
And dauntless keep the field.
That jewel, Stella, guard with care,
Let caution still preside,
And if you would be truly fair,
Take virtue for your guide.
So shall your eyes with gen'rous love inspire,
And like B**r**d**t teach mankind t'admire;
You may, like her, dispense celestial flame;
Make willing slaves, and yet preserve your fame;
Perfect like her, in person, and in mind,
Leave graceless Dutchesses in state behind;

153

While you on merit to perfection soar,
And men are taught to wonder and adore.