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The Works of the Late Aaron Hill

... In Four Volumes. Consisting of Letters on Various Subjects, And of Original Poems, Moral and Facetious. With An Essay on the Art of Acting

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Advice to the Virgins,
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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151

Advice to the Virgins,

to guard against Flattery.

Fairest! forgive the too officious lay,
That sends the muse, you charm, to smooth your way,
I, tho' admiring, act no lover's part,
Nor bid soft sounds seduce your list'ning heart:
Candidly touch'd, my pen's obtrusive fear,
Nor dares to shock, nor aims to sooth your ear;
Needless, 'tis true, to bid such nymphs, beware,
Who ev'ry grace, and virtue, make their care:
Yet, modest excellence will oft descend,
To thank, unwanted, caution, in a friend.
A faithful pilot, fervent, in his fears,
And, trembling, anxious for the worth, he steers.
'Twere mortal pain, to see such beauty mourn,
By bold distress, or impious falsehood, torn.
Love's gay delusion tempts, a thousand ways;
Now, wounds, with softness; now destroys, with praise.
Thy veil, O Flatt'ry! hides a traitor's heart,
And gives up confidence—a prey to art:

152

Unbridled youth, to consequences, blind,
Indulging body, hears no call of Mind.
Feeble discretion, so, by warmth, o'er-run,
Does, with a peacock's feather, fan the sun.
Beauty, that trusts too fast, is beauty's bane,
A self-betrayer, that embraces pain.
Oh! hear, suspicious, when the lover sues;
She most attracts, who longest can refuse.
Poize the try'd terms, on which his hope depends,
Prop'd, on the parent's council, and the friend's:
So, leaning safe, and wanting space, to stray,
Love's guardian angels crown your nuptial day.
Or, should the gilded hypocrite, at last,
Show, that he meant your spotless fame to blast;
Fly the found tempter, each low lure despise,
And lift your heart's wrong'd wish above surprize.
Nature, that form'd you loveliest, doubly kind,
To like perfection, rais'd your conquering mind.
Fram'd you to truth, to virtue turn'd your taste,
For honour, dress'd you, and, for rev'rence, grac'd.
Freedom regain'd, pursue the shining track,
And leave the base repenter, to his rack.

153

Then, bless the verse, that from such ruin, sav'd
An artless conqu'ror, by success, enslav'd:
Now, happy, painless hours shall un-perplex
The best-lov'd pattern of the loveliest sex.