TO A LADY, VERY HANDSOME,
BUT TOO FOND OF DRESS.

PRYTHEE why fo fantastic and vain ?
What charms can the toilet fupply?
Why fo ftudious, admirers to gain?
Need Beauty lay traps for the eye?
Because that thy breast is so fair,

Must thy tucker be still setting right ?
And canft thou not laughing forbear,
Because that thy teeth are fo white?

Shall fovereign beauty descend
To act fo ignoble a part?
Whole hours at the looking-glass spend,
A flave to the dictates of art?
And cannot thy heart be at rest,
Unless thou excelleft each fair,
In trinkets and trumpery dress'd?
Is not that a fuperfluous care?

Vain, idle attempt! to pretend

The lily with whitenefs to deck! Does the rich folitaire recommend The delicate turn of thy neck? The gloffy bright hue of thy hair Can powder or jewels adorn?

Can perfumes or vermillions compare

With the breath or the blush of the morn?

When, embarrass'd with baubles and toys,
Thou'rt fet out fo enormously fine,
Over-doing thy purpose destroys,

And to please thou haft too much defign:
Little know'ft thou, how beauty beguiles,

How alluring the innocent eye; What sweetness in natural fmiles,

And what charms in fimplicity lie.

Thee

Thee Nature with beauty has clad,
With genuine ornaments dress'd;
Nor can Art an embellishment add,
To fet off what already is beft:
Be it thine, felf-accomplish'd to reign :
Bid the toilet be far fet apart,
And difmifs with an honeft difdain

That impertinent Abigail, Art.

ANACREON.

ODE III.

IN the dead of the night, when with labour opprefs'd

All mortals enjoy the calm bleffing of reft,

Cupid knock'd at my door; I awoke with the noise, And" who is it (I call'd) that my fleep thus deftroys?"

"You need not be frighten'd, he answered mild, "Let me in; I'm a little unfortunate child; “'Tis a dark rainy night; and I'm wet to the skin; "And my way I have loft; and do, pray, let me in "

I was mov'd with compaffion; and, ftriking a light,
I open'd the door; when a boy ftood in fight,
Who had wings on his fhoulders; the rain from him
dripp'd;

With a bow and with arrows too he was equipp'd.

I ftirr'd

I ftirr'd up my fire, and close by its fide
I fet him down by me: with napkins I dried,

I chaf'd him all over, kept out the cold air,
And I wrung with my hands the wet out of his hair.

He from wet and from cold was no fooner at ease, But taking his bow up, he faid, "If you please "We will try it; I would by experiment know "If the wet hath not damag'd the ftring of my bow."

Forthwith from his quiver an arrow he drew,

To the ftring he apply'd it, and twang went the yew ;
The arrow was gone; in my bosom it center'd :
No fting of a hornet more sharp ever enter'd.

Away skipp'd the urchin, as brisk as a bee,

And laughing, "I wish you much joy, friend, quoth

he:

"My bow is undamag'd, for true went the dart;

"But you will have trouble enough with your heart."