Impute his schemes to real evil;
That in thefe haunts he met the devil,
He own'd, tho' their advice was vain,
It fuited wights who trod the plain:
For dullness-tho' he might abhor it—
In them, he made allowance for it.
Nor wonder'd, if beholding mottos,
And urns, and domes, and cells, and grottos,
Folks, little dreaming of the mufes,
Were plagu'd to guefs their proper uses.
But did the mufes haunt his cell?
Or in his dome did VENUS dwell?
Did PALLAS in his counfels share?
The Delian god reward his pray'r?
Or did his zeal engage the fair?
When all the structures fhone compleat;
Not much convenient, wond'rous neat;
Adorn'd with gilding, painting, planting,
And the fair guests alone were wanting;
Ah me! ('twas DAMON's own confeffion)
Came poverty, and took poffeffion.
HY droops my DAMON, whilft he roves
Thro' ornamented meads and groves?
Near columns, obelifks, and spires,
Which ev'ry critic eye admires ?
'Tis poverty, detefted maid,
Sole tenant of their ample fhade!
'Tis fhe, that robs him of his eafe;
And bids their very charms displease.
But now, by fancy long controul'd,
And with the fons of tafte enroll'd,
He deem'd it fhameful, to commence
First minister to common-fense:
Far more elated, to pursue
The lowest task of dear vertû.
And now behold his lofty foul,
That whilom flew from pole to pole,
Settle on fome elaborate flow'r;
And, like a bee, the fweets devour!
Now, of a rofe enamour'd, prove
The wild folicitudes of love!
Now, in a lily's cup enfhrin'd,
Forego the commerce of mankind!
As in these toils he wore away
The calm remainder of his day;
Conducting fun, and fhade, and fhow'r,
As moft might glad the new-born flow'r,
So fate ordain'd-before his eye-
Starts up the long-fought butterfly!
While flutt'ring round, her plumes unfold
Celestial crimson, dropt with gold.
Adieu, ye bands of flow'rets fair!
The living beauty claims his care:
For this he ftrips-nor bolt, nor chain,
Cou'd DAMON's warm purfuit reftrain.
See him o'er hill, morafs, or mound,
Where'er the speckled game is found,
Tho' bent with age, with zeal pursue ;
And totter tow'rds the prey in view.
Nor rock, nor ftream, his steps retard,
Intent upon the bleft reward!
One vaffal fly repays the chace!
A wing, a film, rewards the race!
Rewards him, tho' disease attend,
And in a fatal furfeit, end.
So fierce CAMILLA fkim'd the plain,
Smit with the purple's pleasing stain,
She ey'd intent the glitt'ring ftranger,
And knew alas! nor fear, nor danger:
'Till deep within her panting heart,
Malicious fate impell'd the dart!
How ftudious he what fav'rite food
Regales dame nature's tiny brood!
What junkets fat the filmy people
And what liqueurs they chufe to tipple!
Behold him, at some crise, prescribe,
And raise with drugs the fick'ning tribe!
Or haply, when their spirits fau'ter,
Sprinkling my Lord of CLOYNE'S tar-water.
When nature's brood of infects dies,
See how he pimps for am'rous flies!
See him the timely fuccour lend her,
.And.help the wantons to engender!
Or fee him guard their pregnant hour ;
Exert his foft obstetric pow'r :
And, lending each his lenient hand,
With new-born grubs enrich the land!
*O WILKS! what poet's loftieft lays Can match thy labours, and thy praise ? Immortal fage! by fate decreed
To guard the moth's illustrious breed! 'Till flutt'ring fwarms on fwarms arise, And all our wardrobes teem with flies!
And must we praise this taste for toys? Admire it then in girls and boys. Ye youths of fifteen years, or more, Refign your moths-the feafon's o'er. 'Tis time more focial joys to prove; 'Twere now your nobler task-to love. Let ****'s eyes more deeply warm; Nor, flighting nature's fairest form, The biafs of your fouls determine Tow'rds the mean love of nature's vermin. But ah! how wond'rous few have known, To give each stage of life its own. 'Tis the pretexta's utmost bound, With radiant purple edg'd around, To please the child; whofe glowing dyes Too long delight maturer eyes :
Alluding to Mr. WILKS's very expenfive propofals,
And few, but with regret, affume
The plain-wrought labours of the loom.
Ah! let not me by fancy fteer,
When life's autumnal clouds appear;
Nor ev'n in learning's long delays
Confume my faireft, fruitless days:
Like him, who should in armour spend
The fums that armour should defend.
Awhile, in pleasure's myrtle bow'r,
We share her smiles, and bless her pow'r :
But find at laft, we vainly ftrive
To fix the worst coquette alive.
O you! that with affiduous flame
Have long purfu'd the faithless dame
Forfake her foft abodes awhile,
And dare her frown, and flight her smile.
Nor fcorn, whatever wits may fay,
The foot-path road, the king's high-way.
No more the fcrup'lous charmer teize,
But feek the roofs of honeft ease;
The rival fair, no more purfu'd,.
Shall there with forward pace intrude;'
Shall there her ev'ry are effay,
To win you to her flighted fway;
And grant your fcorn a glance more fair
Than e'er she gave your fondest pray❜r.
But would you happiness pursue ?
Partake both eafe, and pleasure too?
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