Nor bite your lip, nor furl your brow,
If FLORIMEL, your equal now,

Shou'd, one day, gain precedence of ye?
First ferv'd-tho' in a difh of coffee?
Plac'd firft, altho' where you are found,
You gain the eyes of all around?

Nam'd first, tho' not with half the fame,
That waits my charming CELIA's name?
Hard fortune! barely to inspire
Our fix'd esteem, and fond defire!
Barely, where'er you go, to prove.
The fource of univerfal love!-
Yet be content, obferving this,
Honour's the offspring of caprice:
And worth, howe'er you have purfu'd it,
Has now no pow'r-but to exclude it.
You'll find your general reputation

A kind of fupplemental station,

Poor SWIFT, with all his worth, cou'd neʼer,

He tells us, hope to rise a peer;

So, to fupply it, wrote for fame:

And well the wit fecur'd his aim.
A common patriot has a drift,

Not quite fo innocent as SWIFT:

In BRITAIN'S cause he rants, he labours; "He's honeft, faith"--have patience, neighbours! For patriots may fometimes deceive,

May beg their friend's reluctant leave,

Τα

To serve them in a higher sphere;
And drop their virtue, to get there.-
AS LUCIAN tells us, in his fashion,
How fouls put off each earthly passion,
Ere an ELYSIUM's flow'ry ftrand,
Old CHARON fuffer'd 'em to land;

So ere we meet a court's careffes,

No doubt our fouls must change their dreffes:
And fouls there be, who, bound that way,
Attire themselves ten times a day.

If then 'tis rank which all men covet,
And faints alike and finners love it;
If place, for which our courtiers throng
So thick, that few can get along;
For which fuch fervile toils are seen,
Who's happier than a king?-a queen,
Howe'er men aim at elevation,

'Tis properly a female paffion:
Women, and beaux, beyond all measure
Are charm'd with rank's extatic pleasure.
Sir, if your drift I rightly scan,

You'd hint a beau were not a man :
Say, women then are fond of places;
I wave all difputable cafes.

A man perhaps would fomething linger,
Were his lov'd rank to cost-a finger;
Or were an ear or toe the price on't,
He might delib'rate once or twice on't;
Perhaps afk GATAKER's advice on't.

}

And

And many, as their frame grows old,
Wou'd hardly purchase it with gold.

But women with precedence ever;
'Tis their whole life's fupreme endeavour;
It fires their youth with jealous rage,
And strongly animates their age.
Perhaps they would not fell out-right,
Or maim a limb-that was in fight;
Yet, on worse terms, they fometimes chuse it ;
Nor, ev'n in punishments, refuse it.
Preeminence in pain, you cry!

All fierce and pregnant with reply.
But lend your patience, and your ear,
An argument fhall make it clear,

But hold, an argument may fail,

Befide my title fays, a tale.

Where Avon rolls her winding ftream,

AVON, the Mufe's fav'rite theme!

Avon, that fills the farmer's purses,

And decks with flow'rs both farms, and verses,

She visits many a fertile vale

Such was the scene of this my tale.

For 'tis in Ev'ṢHAM's vale, or near it,

That folks with laughter tell, and hear it.
The foil with annual plenty blest

Was by young CORYDON poffeft.
His youth alone I lay before ye,
As moft material to my story:

For

d 'twere not much amifs, to add 'em. Thrice happy lout! whofe wide domain w green with grafs, now gilt with grain, ruffet robes of clover deep,

thinly veil'd, and white with sheep; ow fragrant with the bean's perfume, ow purpled with the pulse's bloom, fight well with bright allufion store me; But happier bards have been before me! Amongst the various year's increase, he stripling own'd a field of pease; hich, when at night he ceas'd his labours, ere haunted by fome female neighbours. ach morn discover'd to his fight he fhameful havoc of the night; races of this they left behind 'em, ut no inftructions where to find 'em. The devil's works are plain and evil, -ut few or none have seen the devil. Old NOLL, indeed, if we may credit The words of ECHARD, who has faid it, Contriv'd with SATAN how to fool us; And bargain'd face to face to rule us; But then old NOLL was one in ten, And fought him more then other men. Our fhepherd too, with like attention, May meet the female fiends we mention. 3

He

He rose one morn at break of day,
And near the field in ambush lay:
When lo! a brace of girls appears,
The third, a matron much in years.
Smiling, amidst the peafe, the finners
Sate down to cull their future dinners;
And, caring little who might own 'em,
Made free as tho' themselves had fown 'em.
'Tis worth a fage's obfervation

How love can make a jest of passion.
Anger had forc'd the fwain from bed,
His early dues to love unpaid!
And love, a god that keeps a pother,
And will be paid one time or other,
Now banifh'd anger out o' door;

And claim'd the debt withheld before.
If
anger bid our youth revile,

Love form'd his features to a smile :

And knowing well 'twas all grimace,
To threaten with a smiling face,

He in few words exprefs'd his mind

And none would deem them much unkind.
The am'rous youth, for their offence,
Demanded inftant recompence :

That recompence from each, which shame
Forbids a bafhful mufe to name.

Yet, more this fentence to discover,

'Tis what BETT * * grants her lover,

When