The Young Gentleman and Lady's Monitor, and English Teacher's Assistant / Being a collection of select pieces from our best modern writers, calculated to eradicate vulgar prejudices and rusticity of manners, improve the understanding, rectify the will, purify the passions, direct the minds of youth to the pursuit of proper objects, and to facilitate their reading, writing, and speaking the English language with elegance and propriety

by John Hamilton Moore

THE CHOICE OF A RURAL LIFE.

A POEM,

Written by W.L. Esq. Gov. of N.J.

THE ARGUMENT.

The subject proposed. Situation of the author's house. His frugality in his furniture. The beauties of the country. His love of retirement, and choice of his friends. A description of the morning. Hymn to the sun. Contemplation of the Heavens. The existence of God inferred from a view of the beauty and harmony of the creation. Morning and evening devotion. The vanity of riches and grandeur. The choice of his books. Praise of the marriage state. A knot of modern ladies described. The author's exit.

PHILOSOPHIC SOLITUDE, &c.

Let ardent heroes seek renown in arms,
Pant after fame, and rush to war's alarms;
To shining palaces let fools resort,
And dunces cringe to be esteem'd at court:
Mine be the pleasure of a rural life,
From noise remote, and ignorant of strife;
Far from the painted belle, and white-glov'd beau,
The lawless masquerade and midnight show;
From ladies, lap-dogs, courtiers, garters, stars,
Fops, fiddlers, tyrants, emperors, and czars.

Full in the centre of some shady grove,
By nature form'd for solitude and love;
On banks array'd with ever-blooming flow'rs,
Near beaut'ous landscapes, or by roseate bow'rs,
My neat, but simple mansion I would raise,
Unlike the sumptuous domes of modern days;
Devoid of pomp, with rural plainness form'd,
With savage game, and glossy shells adorn'd.

No costly furniture should grace my hall;
But curling vines ascend against the wall,
Whose pliant branches shou'd luxuriant twine,
While purple clusters swell'd with future wine
To slake my thirst a liquid lapse distill,
From craggy rocks, and spread a limpid rill.
Along my mansion spiry firs should grow,
And gloomy yews extend the shady row;

The cedars flourish, and the poplars rise
Sublimely tall, and shoot into the skies:
Among the leaves refreshing zephyrs play,
And crouding trees exclude the noon-tide ray;
Whereon the birds their downy nests should form,
Securely shelter'd from the batt'ring storm;
And to melodious notes their choir apply,
Soon as Aurora blush'd along the sky:
While all around the enchanting music rings,
And every vocal grove reponsive sings.

Me to sequester'd scenes, ye muses guide,
Where nature wanton's in her virgin pride,
To mossy banks, edg'd round with op'ning flow'rs,
Elysian fields and amaranthian bow'rs;
T' ambrosial founts, and sleep-inspiring rills,
To herbag'd vales, gay lawns, and funny hills.

Welcome ye shades! all hail, ye vernal blooms
Ye bow'ry thickets, and prophetic glooms!
Ye forests hail! ye solitary woods!
Love-whispering groves and silver-streaming floods!
Ye meads, that aromatic sweets exhale!
Ye birds, and all ye sylvan beauties hail!
Oh how I long with you to spend my days,
Invoke the muse, and try the rural lays!

No trumpets there with martial clangor found,
No prostrate heroes strew the crimson'd ground;
No groves of lances glitter in the air,
Nor thund'ring drums provoke the sanguine war;
but white-rob'd peace, and universal love
Smile in the field, and brighten, ev'ry grove,
There all the beauties of the circling year,
In native ornamental pride appear;
Gay rosy-bosom'd SPRING, and April show'rs;
Wake from the womb of earth the rising flow'rs:
In deeper verdure SUMMER clothes the plain,
And AUTUMN bends beneath the golden grain;
The trees weep amber, and the whispering gales
Breeze o'er the lawn, or murmur through the vales:
The flow'ry tribes in gay confusion bloom,
Profuse of sweets, and fragrant with perfume;
On blossoms blossoms, fruits on fruits arise.
And varied prospects glad the wand'ring eyes.
In these fair seats I'd pass the joyous day,
Where meadows flourish and where fields look gay;
From bliss to bliss with endless pleasure rove,
Seek crystal streams, or haunt the vernal grove,
Woods, fountains, lakes, the fertile fields, or shades
Aerial mountains, or subjacent glades.

There from the polish'd fetters of the great,
Triumphal piles, and gilded rooms of state;
Prime ministers, and sycophantic knaves;
Illustrious villains, and illustrious slaves;
From all the vain formality of fools,
An odious task of arbitrary rules;
The ruffling cares which the vex'd soul annoy,
The wealth the rich possess, but not enjoy,
The visionary bliss the world can lend,
The insidious foe, and false designing friend,
The seven-fold fury of Xantippe's soul,
And S——'s rage that burns without controul;
I'd live retir'd, contented, and serene,
Forgot, unknown, unenvied and unseen.

Yet not a real hermitage I'd chuse,
Nor wish to live from all the world recluse;
But with a friend sometimes unbend the soul,
In social converse, o'er the sprightly bowl.
With cheerful W——, serene and wisely gay,
I'd often pass the dancing hours away;
He skill'd alike to profit and to please,
Politely talks with unaffected ease;
Sage in debate, and faithful to his trust,
Mature in science, and severely just;
Of soul diffusive, vast and unconfin'd,
Breathing benevolence to all mankind;
Cautious to censure, ready to commend,
A firm, unshaken, uncorrupted friend:
In early youth fair wisdom's paths he trod,
In early youth a minister of God:
Each pupil lov'd him when at Yale he shone,
And ev'ry bleeding bosom weeps him gone.
Dear A——, too, should grace my rural seat,
Forever welcome to the green retreat:
Heav'n for the cause of righteousness design'd
His florid genius, and capacious mind:
Oft have I heard, amidst th' adoring throng,
Celestial truths devolving from his tongue;
High o'er the list'ning audience seen him stand,
Divinely speak, and graceful stretch his hand:
With such becoming grace and pompous sound,
With long-rob'd senators encircled round,
Before the Roman bar, while Rome was free,
Nor bow'd to Cæsar's throne the servile knee;
Immortal Tully pleads the patriot cause,
While ev'ry tongue resounded his applause.
Next round my board should candid S—— appear,
Of manners gentle, and a friend sincere,
Averse to discord party-rage and strife,
He sails serenely down the stream of life.
With these three friends beneath a spreading shade,
Where silver fountains murmur thro' the glade;
Or in cool grots, perfum'd with native flow'rs,
In harmless mirth I'd spend the circling hours;
Or gravely talk, or innocently sing,
Or, in harmonious concert, strike the trembling string.

Amid sequester'd bow'rs near gliding streams,
Druids and Bards enjoy'd serenest dreams.
Such was the seat where courtly Horace sung:
And his bold harp immortal Maro strung:
Where tuneful Orpheus' unresisted lay,
Made rapid tygers bear their rage away;
While groves attentive to th' extatic sound
Burst from their roots, and raptur'd, danc'd around.
Such feats the venerable Seers of old
(When blissful years in golden circles roll'd)
Chose and admir'd: e'en Goddesses and Gods
(As poets feign) were fond of such abodes:
Th' imperial consort of fictitious Jove,
For fount full Ida forsook the realms above.
Oft to Idalia on a golden cloud,
Veil'd in a mist of fragrance, Venus rode;
The num'rous altars to the queen were rear'd,
And love-sick youths there am'rous-vows prefer'd,
While fair-hair'd damsels (a lascivious train)
With wanton rites ador'd her gentle reign.
The silver-shafted Huntress of the woods,
Sought pendant shades, and bath'd in cooling floods.
In palmy Delos, by Scamander's side,
Or when Cajister roll'd his silver tide,
Melodious Ph$oelig;bus sang; the Muses round
Alternate warb'ling to the heav'nly sound.
E'en the feign'd MONARCH of heav'n's bright abode,
High thron'd in gold, of ROLLIN.Gods the sov'reign God,
Oft time prefer'd the shade of Ida's grove
To all th'ambrosial feast's, and nectar'd cups above.

Behold, the rosy-finger'd morning dawn,
In saffron rob'd, and blushing o'er the lawn!
Reflected from the clouds, a radiant stream,
Tips with etherial dew the mountain's brim.
Th' unfolding roses, and the op'ning flow'rs
Imbibe the dew, and strew the varied bow'rs,
Diffuse nectarious sweets around, and glow
With all the colours of the show'ry bow
The industrious bees their balmy toil renew,
Buzz o'er the field, and sip the rosy dew.
But yonder comes th'illustrious God of day,
Invests the east, and gilds the etherial way;
The groves rejoice, the feather'd nations sing,
Echo the mountains and the vallies ring.

Hail Orb! array'd with majesty and fire,
That bids each sable shade of night retire!
Fountain of light! with burning glory crown'd,
Darting a deluge of effulgence round!
Wak'd by thy genial and praline ray,
Nature resumes her verdure, and looks gay;
Fresh blooms the rose, the dropping plants revive,
The groves reflourish, and forests live.
Deep in the teeming earth, the rip'ning ore
Confesses thy consolidating pow'r:
Hence labour draws her tools, and artists mould
The fusile silver and the ductile gold:
Hence war is furnish'd, and the regal shield
Like lightning flashes o'er th' illumin'd field.
If thou so fair with delegated light,
That all heav'n's splendors vanish at thy sight;
With what effulgence must the ocean glow!
From which thy borrow'd beams incessant flow!
Th' exhaustless force whose single smiles supplies,
Th' unnumber'd orbs that gild the spangled skies!

Oft would I view, in admiration lost,
Heav'n's sumptuous canopy, and starry host;
With level'd tube and astronomic eye,
Pursue the planets whirling thro' the sky:
Immeasurable vaults! where thunders roll,
And forked lightnings flash from pole to pole.
Say, railing infidel! canst thou survey
Yon globe of fire, that gives the golden day,
Th' harmonious structure of this vast machine,
And not confess its Architect divine?
Then go, vain wretch; tho' deathless be thy soul,
Go, swell the riot, and exhaust the bowl;
Plunge into vice, humanity resign,
Go, fill the stie, and bristle into swine?

None but a pow'r omnipotent and wise
Could frame this earth, or spread the boundless skies
He made the whole; at his omnific call, }
From formless chaos rose this spacious ball, }
And one ALMIGHTY GOD is seen in all. }
By him our cup is crown'd, our table spread
With luscious wine, and life-sustaining bread.
What countless wonders doth the earth contain!
What countless wonders the unfathom'd main!
Bedrop'd with gold, their scaly nations shine,
Haunt coral groves, or lash the foaming brine.
JEHOVAH's glories blaze all nature round.
In heaven, on earth, and in the deeps profound;
Ambitious of his name, the warblers sing,
And praise their Maker while they hail the spring:
The zephyrs breathe it, and the thunders roar,
While surge to surge, and shore resounds to shore.
But MAN, endu'd with an immortal mind,
His Maker's Image, and for heaven design'd;
To loftier notes his raptur'd voice should raise,
And chaunt sublimer hymns to his Creator's praise.

When rising Phœbus ushers in the morn,
And golden beams th' impurpled skies adorn:
Wak'd by the gentle murmur of the floods,
Or the soft music of the waving woods;
Rising from sleep with the melodious quire,
To solemn sounds I'd tune the hallow'd lyre.
Thy name, O GOD! should tremble on my tongue,
Till ev'ry grove prov'd vocal to my song:
(Delightful task! with dawning light to sing,
Triumphant hymns to heav'n's eternal king.)
Some courteous angel should my breast inspire,
Attune my lips, and guide the warbled wire,
While sportive echoes catch the sacred sound,
Swell ev'ry note, and bear the music round;
While mazy streams meand'ring to the main
Hang in suspence to hear the heav'nly strain;
And hush'd to silence, all the feather'd throng,
Attentive listen to the tuneful song.

Father of Light! exhaustless source of good!
Supreme, eternal, self-existent God!
Before the beamy sun dispens'd a ray,
Flam'd in the azure vault, and gave the day;
Before the glimm'ring Moon with borrow'd light,
Shone queen amid the silver host of night;
High in the Heav'ns, thou reign'dst superior Lord,
By suppliant angels worship'd and ador'd.
With the celestial choir then let me join,
In cheerful praises to the pow'r Divine.
To sing thy praise, do thou, O GOD! inspire,
A mortal breast with more than mortal fire;
In dreadful majesty thou sit'st enthron'd,
With light encircled, and with glory crown'd;
Thro' all infinitude extends thy reign,
For thee, nor heav'n, nor heav'n of heav'ns contain;
But tho' thy throne is fix'd above the sky,
Thy Omnipresence fills immensity.
Saints rob'd in white, to thee their anthems bring,
And radient Martyrs hallelujahs sing:
Heav'n's universal host their voices raise,
In one eternal chorus, to thy praise;
And round thy awful throne, with one accord,
Sing, Holy, Holy, Holy is the Lord.
At thy creative voice, from ancient night,
Sprang smiling beauty, and yon' worlds of light:
Thou spak'st—the planetary Chorus roll'd
And all th' expanse was starr'd with beamy gold;
Let there be light, said GOD—Light instant shone,
And from the orient, burst the golden Sun;
Heav'n's gazing hierarchies, with glad surprise,
Saw the first morn invest the skies,
And straight th' exulting troops thy throne surround,
With thousand thousand harps of heav'nly sound:
Thrones, powers, dominions, (ever shining trains!)
Shouted thy praises in triumphant strains:
Great are thy works, they sing, and, all around,
Great are thy works, the echoing heav'n's resound.
The effulgent sun, insufferably bright,
Is but a beam of thy o'erflowing light;
The tempest is thy breath; the thunder hurl'd,
Tremendous roars thy vengeance o'er the world;
Thou bow'st the heav'ns the smoaking mountains nod;
Rocks fall to dust, and nature owns her God;
Pale tyrants shrink, the atheist stands aghast,
And impious kings in horror breath their last.
To this great God alternately I'd pay,
The evening anthem, and the morning lay.

For sov'reign Gold I never would repine,
Nor wish the glitt'ring dust of monarchs mine.
What tho' high columns heave into the skies,
Gay ceilings shine, and vaulted arches rise;
Tho' fretted gold the sculptur'd roof adorn,
The rubies redden, and the jaspers burn!
Or what, alas! avails the gay attire,
To wretched man, who breathes but to expire!
Oft on the vilest, riches are bestow'd,
To shew their meanness in the sight of God.
High from a dung-hill, see a Dives rise,
And, Titan-like, insult th' avenging skies:
The crowd, in adulation, calls him Lord,
By thousands courted, flatter'd, and ador'd:
In riot plung'd, and drunk with earthly joys,
No higher thought his grov'ling foul employs:
The poor he scourges with an iron rod,
And from his bosom banishes his God.
But oft in height of wealth, and beauty's bloom,
Deluded man is fated to the tomb!
For, lo! he sickens, swift his colour flies,
And rising mists obscure his swimming eyes:
Around his bed his weeping friends bemoan,
Extort th' unwilling tear, and wish him gone;
His sorrowing heir augments the tender show'r,
Deplores his death—yet hails the dying hour.
Ah bitter comfort! Sad relief, to die!
Tho' sunk in down, beneath the canopy!
His eyes no more shall see the cheerful light,
Weigh'd down by death in everlasting night:
"And when with age thy head is silver'd o'er,
"And cold in death thy bosom beats no more,
"Thy foul exulting shall desert its clay,
"And mount, triumphant, to eternal day."
But to improve the intellectual mind,
Reading should be to contemplation join'd.
First I'd collect from the Parnassian spring,
What muses dictate, and what poets sing.—
Virgil, as Prince, shou'd wear the laurel'd crown,
And other bards pay homage to his throne;
The blood of heroes now effus'd so long,
Will run forever purple thro' his song.
See! how he mounts toward the blest abodes,
On planets rides, and talks with demi-gods!
How do our ravish'd spirits melt away,
When in his song Sicilian shepherds play!
But what a splendor strikes the dazzled eye,
When Dido shines in awful majesty!
Embroider'd purple clad the Tyrian queen,
Her motion graceful, and august her mein;
A golden zone her royal limbs embrac'd,
A golden quiver rattled by her waist.
See her proud steed majestically prance,
Contemn the trumpet, and deride the lance!
In crimson trappings, glorious to behold,
Confus'dly gay with interwoven gold!
He champs the bitt, and throws the foam around,
Impatient paws, and tears the solid ground.
How stern Æneas thunders thro' the field!
With tow'ring helmet, and refulgent shield!
Coursers o'erturn'd, and mighty warriors slain,
Deform'd with gore, lie welt'ring on the plain.
Struck thro' with wounds, ill-fated chieftains lie,
Frown e'en in death, and threaten as they die.
Thro' the thick squadrons see the Hero bound,
(His helmet flashes, and his arms resound!)
All grim with rage, he frowns o'er Turnus' head,
(Re-kindled ire! for blooming Pallas dead)
Then, in his bosom plung'd the shining blade—
The soul indignant sought the Stygian shade!

The far-fam'd bards that grac'd Britannia's isle,
Should next compose the venerable pile.
Great Milton first, for tow'ring thought renown'd,
Parent of song, and fam'd the world around!
His glowing breast divine Urania fir'd,
Or GOD himself th' immortal Bard inspir'd.
Borne on triumphant wings he take this flight,
Explores all heaven, and treads the realms of light:
In martial pomp he clothes th' angelic train,
While warring myriads shake th' etherial plain.
First Michael stalks, high tow'ring o'er the rest;
With heav'nly plumage nodding on his crest:
Impenetrable arms his limbs unfold,
Eternal adamant, and burning gold!
Sparkling in fiery mail, with dire delight,
Rebellious Satan animates the fight:
Armipotent they sink in rolling smoke,
All heav'n resounding, to its centre shook,
To crush his foes, and quell the dire alarms,
Messiah sparkled in refulgent arms;
In radient panoply divinely bright,
His limbs incas'd, he slash'd devouring light,
On burning wheels, o'er heav'n's crystalline road
Thunder'd the chariot of thy Filial God;
The burning wheels on golden axles turn'd,
With flaming gems the golden axles burn'd.
Lo! the apostate host, with terror struck,
Roll back by millions! Th' Empyrean shook!
Sceptres, and orbid shields, and crowns of gold,
Cherubs and Seraphs in confusion roll'd;
Till, from his hand, the triple thunder hurl'd,
Compell'd them headlong, to th' Infernal world.

Then tuneful Pope, whom all the nine inspire,
With saphic sweetness, and pindaric fire.
Father of verse! melodious and divine!
Next peerless Milton should distinguish'd shine.
Smooth flow his numbers when he paints the grove,
Th' enraptur'd virgins list'ning into love.
But when the night and hoarse resounding storm,
Rush on the deep, and Neptune's face deform,
Rough runs the verse, the son'rous numbers roar
Like the hoarse surge that thunders on the shore.
But when he sings th' exhilerated swains,
Th' embow'ring groves, and Windsor's blissful plains,
Our eyes are ravish'd with the sylvan scene,
Embroider'd fields, and groves in living green:
His lays the verdure of the meads prolong,
And wither'd forests blossom in his song;
Thames' silver streams his flowing verse admire,
And cease to murmur while he tunes his lyre.

Next shou'd appear great Dryden's lofty muse,
For who would Dryden's polish'd verse refuse?
His lips were moisten'd in Parnassus' spring,
And Phœbus taught his laureat son to sing.
How long did Virgil untranslated moan,
His beauties fading, and his flights unknown;
Till Dryden rose, and, in exalted strain,
Re-sang the fortune of the god-like man?
Again the Trojan prince with dire delight,
Dreadful in arms, demands the ling'ring fight:
Again Camilla glows with martial fire,
Drives armies back, and makes all Troy retire.
With more than native lustre Virgil shines,
And gains sublimer heights in Dryden's lines.

The gentle Watts, who strings his silver lyre
To sacred odes, and heav'n's all-ruling fire;
Who scorns th' applause of the licentious stage,
And mounts yon sparkling worlds with hallow'd rage,
Compels my thoughts to wing the heav'nly road,
And wafts my soul, exulting, to my God;
No fabled Nine harmonious bard! inspire
Thy raptur'd breast with such seraphic fire;
But prompting Angels warm thy boundless rage,
Direct thy thoughts, and animate thy page.
Blest man! for spotless sanctity rever'd,
Lov'd by the good, and by the guilty fear'd;
Blest man! from gay delusive scenes remov'd,
Thy Maker loving, by thy Maker lov'd;
To God thou tun'st thy consecrated lays,
Nor meanly blush to sing Jehovah's praise.
Oh! did, like thee, each laurel'd bard delight,
To paint Religion in her native light,
Not then with Plays the lab'ring' press would groan,
Nor Vice defy the Pulpit and the Throne;
No impious rhymer charm a vicious age,
Nor prostrate Virtue groan beneath their rage:
But themes divine in lofty numbers rise,
Fill the wide earth, and echo through the skies.

These for Delight;—for Profit I would read,
The labour'd volumes of the learned dead:
Sagacious Locke, by Providence design'd
T' exalt, instruct, and rectify the mind.
Th' unconquerable Sage,[^[A]] whom virtue fir'd,
And from the tyrant's lawless rage retir'd,
When victor Cæsar freed unhappy Rome,
From Pompey's chains, to substitute his own.
Longinius, Livy, fam'd Thucydides,
Quintillian, Plato and Demosthenes,
Persuasive Tully, and Corduba's Sage,[^[B]]
Who fell by Nero's unrelenting rage;
Him[^[C]] whom ungrateful Athens doom'd to bleed,
Despis'd when living, and deplor'd when dead.
Raleigh I'd read with ever fresh delight,
While ages past rise present to my fight:
Ah man unblest! he foreign realms explor'd,
Then fell a victim to his country's sword!
Nor should great Derham pass neglected by, }
Observant sage! to whose deep piercing eye }
Nature's stupendous works expanded lie. }

Nor he, Britannia, thy unmatch'd renown!
(Adjudg'd to wear the philosophic crown)
Who on the solar orb uplifted rode,
And scan'd th' unfathomable works of God,
Who bound the silver planets to their spheres,
And trac'd th' elliptic curve of blazing stars!
Immortal Newton; whole illustrious name
Will shine on records of eternal fame.

By love directed, I wou'd choose a wife,
T' improve my bliss and ease the load of life.
Hail Wedlock! hail, inviolable tye!
Perpetual fountain of domestic joy!
Love, friendship, honour, truth, and pure delight,
Harmonious mingle in the nuptial rite.
In Eden first the holy state begun,
When perfect innocence distinguish'd man;
The human pair, th' Almighty Pontiff led,
Gay as the morning to the bridal bed;
A dread solemnity th' espousals grac'd,
Angels the Witnesses, and GOD the PRIEST!
All earth exulted on the nuptial hour,
And voluntary roses deck'd the bow'r!
The joyous birds, on ev'ry blossom'd spray,
Sung Hymenians to th' important day,
While Philomela swell'd the sponsal song,
And Paradise with gratulations rung.

Relate, inspiring muse! where shall I find
A blooming virgin with an angel mind,
Unblemish'd as the white-rob'd virgin quire
That fed, O Rome! thy consecrated fire;
By reason aw'd, ambitious to be good,
Averse to vice, and zealous for her God?
Relate, in what blest region can I find
Such bright perfections in a female mind?
What Phœnix-woman breathes the vital air,
So greatly greatly good, and so divinely fair?
Sure, not the gay and fashionable train,
Licentious, proud, immoral and prophane;
Who spend their golden hours in antic dress,
Malicious whispers, and inglorious ease.—

Lo! round the board a shining train appears,
In rosy beauty, and in prime of years!
This hates a flounce, and this a flounce approves,
This shews the trophies of her former loves;
Polly avers that Sylvia dress in green,
When last at church the gaudy Nymph was seen;
Chloe condemns her optics, and will lay
'Twas azure sattin, interstreak'd with grey;
Lucy invested with judicial pow'r,
Awards 'twas neither—and the strife is o'er.

Then parrots, lap-dogs, monkeys, squirrels, beaus,
Fans, ribbands, tuckers, patches, furbaloes,
In quick succession, thro' their fancies run,
And dance incessant on the flippant tongue.
And when fatigued with ev'ry other sport,
The belles prepare to grace the sacred court,
They marshal all their forces in array,
To kill with glances and destroy in play.
Two skilful maids, with reverential fear,
In wanton wreaths collect their silken hair;
Two paint their cheeks, and round their temples pour
The fragrant unguent, and the ambrosial show'r;
One pulls the shape-creating stays, and one
Encircles round her waist the golden zone:
Not with more toil t' improve immortal charms,
Strove Juno, Venus, and the Queen of Arms,
When Priam's Son adjudg'd the golden prize
To the resistless beauty of the skies.
At length equip'd in love's enticing arms,
With all that glitters and with all that charms,
Th' ideal goddesses to church repair,
Peep thro' the fan and mutter o'er a pray'r,
Or listen to the organ's pompous sound,
Or eye the gilded images around;
Or, deeply studied in coquetish rules,
Aim wily glances at unthinking fools;
Or shew the lilly hand with graceful air,
Or wound the fopling with a lock of hair:
And when the hated discipline is o'er,
And Misses tortur'd with Repent no more,
They mount the pictur'd coach, and to the play
The celebrated idols hie away.

Not so the Lass that shou'd my joys improve,
With solid friendship, and connubial love:
A native bloom, with intermingled white,
Should set features in a pleasing light;
Like Helen flushing with unrival'd charms.
When raptur'd Paris darted in her arms.
But what, alas! avails a ruby cheek,
A downy bosom, or a snowy neck!
Charms ill supply the want of innocence,
Nor beauty forms intrinsic excellence:
But in her breast let moral beauties shine,
Supernal grace and purity divine:
Sublime her reason, and her native wit
Unstrain'd with pedantry and low conceit;
Her fancy lively, and her judgment free,
From female prejudice and bigotry:
Averse to idle pomp, and outward show,
The flatt'ring coxcomb, and fantastic beau.

The fop's impertinence she should despise,
Tho' sorely wounded by her radient eyes;
But pay due rev'rence to the exalted mind
By learning polish'd, and by wit refin'd,
Who all her virtues, without guile, commends,
And all her faults as freely reprehends.
Soft Hymen's rites her passion should approve,
And in her bosom glow the flames of love:
To me her foul, by sacred friendship turn,
And I, for her, with equal friendship burn;
In ev'ry stage of life afford relief,
Partake my joys, and sympathize my grief;
Unshaken, walk in virtue's peaceful road,
Nor bribe her reason to pursue the mode;
Mild as the saint whose errors are forgiv'n,
Calm as a vestal, and compos'd as heav'n.
This be the partner, this the lovely wife
That should embellish and prolong my life;
A nymph! who might a second fall inspire,
And fill a glowing Cherub with desire!
With her I'd spend the pleasurable day,
While fleeting minutes gaily danc'd away:
With her I'd walk, delighted, o'er the green,
Thro' ev'ry blooming mead, and rural scene,
Or sit in open fields damask'd with flow'rs,
Or where cool shades imbrown the noon-tide bow'rs,
Imparadis'd within my eager arms,
I'd reign the happy monarch of her charms:
Oft on her panting bosom would I lay,
And, in dissolving raptures, melt away;
Then lull'd, by nightingales, to balmy rest,
My blooming fair should slumber at my breast.

And when decrepid age (frail mortals doom!)
Should bend my wither'd body to the tomb,
No warbling Syrens should retard my flight,
To heav'nly mansions of unclouded light;
Tho' death, with his imperial horrors crown'd,
Terrific grinn'd, and formidably frown'd,
Offences pardon'd, and remitted sin,
Should form a calm serenity within:
Blessing my natal and my mortal hour,
(My soul committed to th' eternal pow'r)
Inexorable death should smile, for I,
Who knew to LIVE, would never fear to DIE.

[A] Cato.

[B] Seneca.

[C] Socrates.