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To a Lady, who ask'd my Opinion of an old Gentleman she design'd to marry.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


156

To a Lady, who ask'd my Opinion of an old Gentleman she design'd to marry.

Since you will have me speak, I must confess
The happy Man, whom you are doom'd to bless,
Has nothing in his Aspect or his Air,
To recommend him to the youthful Fair.
Superior Age may feel a Lover's Fire,
But Youth and Beauty, plant the soft Desire.
By these solicited, the heedless Maid
To smiling Ruin is too oft betray'd.
She sees the gaudy Outside, set for Show,
Nor dreads the Curses wedded with a Beau.
But fair Selinda's Thoughts can higher rise,
She to sublimer Joys erects her Eyes:

157

Her Soul is form'd of a distinguish'd Ray,
And takes its happier Bent a nobler Way.
Merit alone must challenge her Respect,
Who sensual Pleasures can with Ease neglect:
Transports and Raptures are but idle Dreams,
Short is the Bliss that's centred in Extremes.
A lasting calm Content, all Mankind know,
Is the sincerest Happiness below.