A1r

Variety:


A
Poem,
In Two Cantos.

Humbly offer’d to the God of Change

To which is annex’d, An
Answer
to an
Ovid’s Epistle
.

By Louisa.

“What need to treat of distant Climes remov’d, Far from the sloping Journey of the Year: Beyond Petsora or Islandic Coast. Poem on Cyder.”
“Variety, Home kept’s a Theoric large, Wavelet expanse, of a full rolling Verge.”

Westminster:
Printed for T. Warner at the Black Boy in Pater-noster-
row
, and B. Creake in Jermyn-street, St. James’s. 17271727.
Price 1s. 6d.

A1v omittedlibrary stamp A2r

To
The Right Honourable
My Lord Seafort.

My Lord,

Variety begs leave
to give your Lordship
a Welcome to all
the Honours of your noble Progenitors,
as well as those due to A2 your A2v
your own matchless Merit; Welcome,
Great Man, from a too tedious
Exile; our Court and Closet
long have wanted you, and now
our State, and your own Countrymen,
must bless the Justice of that
Change that hath so kindly given
you to their wishes.

The World knows My Lord
Seafort’s Worth, and it
is a Theme above a Woman,
to tell a Peer he’s deserving,
when every Action of his Life
assures us of it.

All A3r

All I have to plead for an Intrusion
of this Nature, is a certain
Je-ne-scai-quoi in my Soul,
That tells me, It is a Pleasure
to make a Patron of the Man,
that truly knows himself, and
the Vicissitudes of Fortune.

Forgive, My Lord, my juvenile
Faults, for which my Sex,
and Youth, I hope, will plead;
and, as a first unfinish’d Thing,
accept of my raw Poem, from the
zealous Ambition of her, that’s
proud to be the first, to tell you,
in so public a manner, with how much A3v
much Joy, altho’ a Stranger, she
feels the approaching Sun-shine
of a good Man’s Glory.

I am,
My Lord,
Your Lordship’s
most Devoted Servant,

Louisa.

A4r

Written on Sight of Variety, by a
young Lady, and publish’d at Request.

Dear, enchanting, lovely Change,

Thro’ Woods, thro’ Worlds for thee I’d range.

In mid-day Heats, and Affrick’s scorching Sun,

O’er sandy Plains, thro’ liquid Fires I’d run;

O’er Rocks and Hills of never-melting Snow,

For thee, dear Change, for thee with Joy I’d go,

All this for dear Variety I’d do.

It is the darling Theme, on a Maid’s Word,

Of ev’ry fair false She, and ev’ry Courtier Lord,

’Tis often known, in this inconstant World,

From old to new Variety we’re hurl’d.

Nay, I declare, believe me, it is true,

Rather than not know Change, and something new,

From a fair Christian I’d become black Jew.

Nay, faith, from gay Coquet I’d turn grave Nun;

Bless me! what have I said! (but ’tis not done)

Yon pious Gownman shakes his holy Head,

And asks what Devil bred th’ inglorious Maid.

Harkee, young Canon, one Word in your Ear;

Draw close ―― it must be whisper’d, reverend Dear,

’Tis not so strange, my Prelate, nor uncommon ――

D’ye fly me, Sir! ―― Octavia’s but a Woman.

I’m sorry, truly, your black Cloak’s so zealous;

Forgive me, Love, I’m mad to make you jealous.

Make A4v 2

Make me, blind Cupid; ev’ry thing that’s soft:

See how those Eyes my warm Desires do waft!

But don’t mistake, ’tis not for you alone,

Nor him, nor t’other, when the former’s gone,

Black, brown, or fair let my Adonis be,

’Tis Charming Change, tho’ Consanguinity,

Brother, or Friend, so ’tis a vary’d thing:

We ever court what’s ever on the Wing.

Louisa, lovely Maid, is of my Mind:

Variety to ev’ry Wretch is kind:

The roving Fair loves Change as well as I,

And all her Theme is still Variety:

She, young, thro’ Fortune’s various Windings trod,

And bows to Change her ever-pleasing God.

On then, Louisa, hunt the endless Race,

And dear Variety for ever chace;

On, till Octavia lends thee conquering Arms,

And lasting Friendship gets thee glorious Palms;

Till then, my dear lov’d Friend, I bid farewel;

O! could I arm my Sex, we’d Men excel.

Sure, in Variety, when Youth and Woman

Agree to plague the Fellows, we out-do Man.

Octavia.

B1r

Variety.
A
Poem,

Humbly Inscrib’d
To the
God of Change.

Of all that heightens, or Formations

Mirth,

Variety’s the Source. Hail protean

Birth:

Hail never settled, ever changing Ease,

Got by Delight, and ever born to please:

Hail charming Godhead, Hail indearing Toy,

Off-spring of Love, Fullness of full-blown Joy.

B Aid B1v 2

Aid me each juvenile Muse, each finish’d Grace,

To paint the nimble many-headed Race;

Humour the fertil’st, of the wand’ring Brood,

Leads me to Seas, and bids me search the Flood:

The circlet Wave glows with the Changive round,

And Water-wonders Vye with upper Ground;

Fowl, Fish, Brute, Reptile, Elemental’s War,

Who vary’s most, the still continued Jar.

O Charm of Change! Man as his Maker Free,

Glory’s and prides in alt’ring Liberty;

Dear courted Liberty, what Pen can tell,

Barr’d o’thy Freedoms, our unfathom’d Hell;

But oh! embrisk’d by thee, how kind’s our Fate,

How charm’d we love, how unprovok’d we hate;

What lives but dreads Confinement (horrid Death)

And would buy off a Prison with a Breath.

Our hottest Cupid drags no servile Chain,

Wild as our Will, th’inconstant knows ’em Vain.

Cupid, we grant, commands the Great, the Free:

Yes, but h’inflames the Youth judiciously;

Makes B2r 3

Makes ’em desire, design, deceive, forswear,

With so bewitching, so gallant an Air;

How can the Maid refuse, resist th’ Alarm?

When all she wish’d was him alone to charm;

She yields, both tire, both change, and both forget,

A newer Face, ’tis like, inspires new Heat:

You think this strange, examine your own Mind,

Ask your own Breast, are you not thus inclin’d?

Blockheads and Fops look for a fix’d firm Station;

When could it be? it were a meer Vexation;

Ask any Husband, how he likes be’ng ty’d?

He answers you, Spouse is no more a Bride;

The constant’st Lover acts as false as he,

That means us false, only the Fool can’t see;

He thinks he’s true, and who can think a-right,

Is not our very Minds an arrant Bite?

This Hour we like, the next ’tis odds, we hate,

(Inconstancy’s the Virtue o’the Great)

Confinement; p’shaw, there’s no such Thing on
Earth,

There may be Fools, but ’tis a Wit’s best Mirth,

B2 Be B2v 4

Be generous gay, discreet, love; but love so,

It neither make thy Purse nor Spirits low:

Court-All’s a taking fashionable Spark,

Alike the Alamode, of Lord, or Clerk;

A Tale well told, a Lye that looks a Truth;

The Maid excuses, and improves the Youth;

The One’s initiated, the other taught,

And where, good lack, in our gay Town’s the
Fault;

With the Genteel, the ugliest, foulest Thing,

’S to be unread in Gallantry and Sin;

To be sincere’s unbred, untrue’s a Mask,

So very kind to have, is but to ask;

Friend, Foe or Lover, promise what they may,

The Wife take not a Speech for current Pay;

Unjust, unmeaning, roving as a Wind,

Is the sincerest He or She we find;

Tales may be told, and old Romances read,

Dependance grows a meer Don Quixot’s
Creed;

Is not our humour o’the Charmer’s Side?

Is not Variety our darling Pride?

The B3r 5

The Statesman’s Hopes the reigning Monarch wait

To be more wealthy, or, perhaps, more great,

Slow rolling years he’ll cant, cringe, lie and
daub,

Whilst him he bows to, he’ll design’dly robb.

So have I seen a pretty fellow mock’d,

Till from’s Conceit, he’s into Madness rock’d,

A Moorfields Air, Laver’s Sir Half-brain’s Wits,

Hysterics change to melancholic Fits;

Variety’s the Source, the End of Motion,

Art, Wit, Skill, Folly, pay it true Devotion:

I’ve read when Curtius would his Country
free,

His dangerous Leap found a new Destiny.

Variety of Bravery, ―― pungent Cause,

Self-Preservation’s Self had then its Flaws.

When Roman Julius, early made his Fate,

By Novel Ways, he made a Novel State;

Domitian busied time, with bodkin’d flyes,

Amusement new, as Nero’s Stage-Play Prize,

Seneca, and Petronius, try’d new Deaths,

And own’d Variety, in latest Breaths.

Divine B3v 6

Divine, or Atheist, Soldier, Trader, Scholar,

Variety, by many Methods follows

The trusted, honest, zealous, Court-Divan,

From Back-Stairs Page, to Rod, and Key, Great
(Man,

The neutral out, blyth Minion, in King’s Favour,

Alike engross the willing Will, to waver;

No King, no Slaves, from the strong tye Exempt,

A Crown’s its First, its Last, its Best Attempt,

Rover Fantastick, Bastard of Ambition,

Pleas’d and Unpleas’d, at once Mungrel Physician,

To Salve one Ake, how many dost thou Probe,

For one poor Shield, what Magazines unrobe?

Differently different, in thy every way,

How indirect’s thy Meaning to thy Say,

Furnish me Proteus, with a juster Pen,

To sing the many Minds, the many Men,

Lend thy young Brother Mercury lighter Wings

And Canvas swell’d Fames, many Mouth’d deep
stings.

Tell how in Masquerades, a noisy Doubt,

Lampoon’d, the Fools within, by Fops without.

Tell B4r 7

Tell how in a strange Court, a pretty Thing

Fawn’d on, and bubbled made a Puppet King.

Tell what Court-Patriot Piqu’d against Hannover,

Quarrell’d with Holland, and made Friends with
Dover.

Tell who, and who, were Wits, and who were
Traytors,

Cag’d, till freed by Wiles, or private Letters;

Tell what late Fav’rite, tumbled from the Spire,

Grew downward fast, ’cause he dar’d Climb no
higher,

Till swell’d with Spleen, he bursted with Disgrace,

And dy’d, as first he liv’d, obscure and base.

Tell what fine Lady, Widow’d and bereft,

Of Lord and Livings, gave the Giver’s Gift;

Whilom late handsome Keeper, leaves the Realm

And in new Worlds, steer’d a more steady Helm,

No more with Bubbles, will his Honour Sport,

South-Sea, he banished his pompous Court;

Chimera’s overcome, Grief drops her Weight,

Experienc’d Follies makes the Hero Great.

Tell what inconstant, Noble, foil’d, and cheated.

By Change Apprentice, Change as quickly feated,

Tell B4v 8

Tell what fond Couple, by meer juggle join’d,

A like under their Honours, mask their Mind:

Tell what Young Rover, gives Stage Madam Leave,

With’s Name, and Equipage, Worlds to deceive

Till sleeping Master opens both his Eyes,

Sees his Mistake, and in a jerk grows Wise,

Tell what false Briton, slyly aids sly Spain,

At once a Monarch’s Pillar, and his Bane.

Tell what late witty Peer, of late turn’d Roman,

’S accountable to Fryer; for Lies, and Woman;

Tho’ a known Atheist, yet his graceless Grace,

Will for Religion, lose Estate and Place;

Martyrdom, pretty fit for Popish Saint,

Who for the White, Black Angels oft depaint:

Tell what late rumour, made a certain King,

Wade here, and hence, by secret unseen Spring:

Tell what far Prince, by’s knowing Envoy Great,

Grows more esteem’d, Wonder of every State:

Tell what young Author, by a Hero made,

A late ill-natur’d Critic, would degrade.

Tell C1r 9

Tell what big busie Man, a grant deny’d,

Cause’t glutted not his too aspiring Pride;

What’s he, or what his Aim, that would uncrown,

A Royal brave Deserver’s young Renown?

When for a Sword, a Statesman dares dispute,

It Cert’s it would be something absolute:

Heaven guard our Monarch, guard the Good, the
Brave,

Make even Ambition Just, and Treason save;

Tell what missled brave youngling, long exiled,

Of late to giving David’s reconciled;

Tell what Sir Credulous’s, easie Spouse,

Grows infamous, for breaking Nuptial Vows,

Make confident of Trader, late repents it,

But Change is Charming, and she’ll ne’er recant it;

Tell what late celebrated Beauty grows

Assembly-keeper, and in Age, trap’s Beaus;

Tell what fond Wife, to Husband more than Chaste

Sends him to Heaven in a Lover’s haste,

Till known at Masquerades, the News fame
Writes,

And the blind, fond, State, busied Husband slights.

C Whilom C1v 10

Whilom the Fair, false Pride, the Fame still Civil,

Bribes Reputation, tho’ caught with a Devil:

Tell what Court-Darling, dar’d refuse his Prince,

A handsome Mistress, and convey her hence;

Tell what Coquette, once thought in Royal Favour,

Marrys a Soldier, and reforms Behavior;

Tell what Court-Maiden, loses Fee and Fame,

By Blots of Conduct, that make public Shame,

Refused by him, that help’d undoe her Credit,

More Rich, less Honourable, in hast she Wedded;

Tell What Gay Author, ever alternative,

Likes, gives, takes, knows, as Fancy’s Recreative,

Tell what Young Peer, fells Fathers dirty Acres,

To give more fast to Girls, and Money-seekers,

What fearful Murmurs, and what public Plaints,

Against the best of Kings, by Pluto ’s Saints,

Pluto, the black Soul’d God, of neither Worlds,

’Gainst whom Joves angry’st Bolt, Fire red he Furls

Proserpine’s, Rapes, still hisses in his Ear,

A black Reserve, shall right the injur’d Fair,

Still C2r 11

Still dear Variety’s our Sexes Friend,

To that our Hopes, our kindest Wishes bend;

If the dear Boy’s unkind, if he neglects,

Not long he leaves, not long he disrespects,

In the still varyed Round, he still returns,

Loves us a-new, whiles he for others Burns;

Does he requite us base, Revenge is nigh;

Revenge, head Agent, of Variety;

From Love to Hate, from Hate to Love we Wind

Till we Regain, or Rack the woo’d unkind,

To thee alone, dear Change, we unbiass’d bow,

Help’d by Variety, less anxious grow;

Vicissitude’s the Harlequin of Fate,

God o’the Mean, Commander o’the Great:

Resolver of our Doubts, Balm of Distress;

Thou makest our Sorrows light, our Feelings less,

Enhancest every Good, secure of Change:

Our every Chance, is Welcome, or not strange,

Our Weal, our Woe, our hilly climb, low Fall,

A Dream, a Sun-smile Day, a broken Gail;

C2 The C2v 12

The rattle Snake, and Water-Calf, agree,

T’ unthrone a King for pure Variety:

Hold private Correspondence with a Foe,

And tell him all he dares at, the dare doe:

The common’st thing in a well order’d State,

’S a Complimental Lye to him we hate,

Some Blame, some Curse, a Love to native Strand,

Others caress the Power, they’re left in Hand,

If foreign Prince Delights, in foreign Furrows,

What Wonder, or what Cause of Public Sorrows;

Tho’ some impolitic, tho’ honest more,

Oftner revisit, a home sterrile Shore:

Whiles others not emvoid of Wit’s digress,

Forget their Off-spring, and first breathing Place,

A Son tho’ gay, gen’rous, and frank may try,

Who homage Sire, by hook baited with Fly;

The thoughtless Gudgeon, on the sharp leaves Life,

And Groans in dying Pangs, a trecherous Strife,

Rook, Hawk, and Raven, Croak alike Crass, Crass,

When each to Morrow, proves a Treason was;

The C3r 13

The Kite, the Buzzard, and the Moon shrowd Owl

Deceive by turns, the honest reigning Fowl;

The Cock crows Morning and the Bat sings Night,

Just as young Sailors tells us a first right,

The Main-Mast totters, Seas go Castle high,

And foam and threat the big-lookt Smoky-Sky,

The Cables cut, the Hold sucks Water deep,

The Vessel’s Leaky, and her Men fast sleep

The gay drest Stern, on ridgy Rocks is torn,

A drowning Wretch, on Planks to refuge born,

At first he thanks, begs, kneels, devout he grows,

Till weary Nature, lulls him to Repose,

He wakes; his godly qualm, with’s fear are
flown,

His solemn Oaths, the late gone storms have Drown,

He now the desart Plain, unthankful Views,

Loud Exclamatory Wailings, Gods abuse;

Why am I here alone, why only me?

What, not a Mariner? curst Destiny,

The fighting Seas, had been a juster Friend,

I there had made a comfortable End,

Had C3v 14

Had dy’d, at least Content, but now what Fate,

What God can Change, who aids my hopless State.

Thus the Blasphemer, when a Sloop well dress’d

Scans the late Wreck, by Wind, and Weather,
Stress’d

Thither the Merchant, with a Caution steers,

Knowing their Pilot, and their Safe-guard Fears,

The lovely Boy, with a loud yaw Averts

Their Dangers, and himself aboard ’em Darts,

Gives them the Sequel of the late split Ship,

And warns ’em where’s the safest Road, they scape

Bound homeward, by the Straits and narrow Flood

With a brisk Gale, the Surface, swift they scad,

Skim along Air, and dive ’em in the Wave,

Till Stav’d once more, all gripe the owzy Grave,

No Sailor lives, all gorge the finny fry,

Life, Death, all Haps hang on Variety:

Variety, our Good, our Bad, our All,

The Scholar’s Study, the big Statesman’s Fall;

How many shudder, at the pointed Blow,

Vicissitude they’d neither own nor know.

C4r 15

Is not Variety, mistaken Men,

The Lure of every Tongue, of every Pen?

Curse it, deny’t, Variety’s your Theme,

Spite o’ your Spite, Variety’s no Dream;

Hear a strange Tale, Variety’s the Charm,

See a strange Face, Variety can warm;

Track Novel Beauties, in a learned Man,

Mimic his Lines, Variety’s the Plan;

Observe the Humourist, see the busie Rake,

See Nature in the Pulpit, at the Stake,

Examine the strict Prude, the solemn Saint,

Variety’s their Prayer, their Text, their Paint;

Anatomize, dissect, the Embrio Mass,

Tell age what Youth, what Manhood ever was,

Bodies, or Minds, Souls, Humours, Constitutions,

Are all but unavoided Revolutions;

Our inclinations, are not more at Odds,

Than there are one or many ruling Gods;

What’s true, what false, just, positive, or not so,

To a Definition, most Men do or would know,

Or C4v 16

Or Clown, or Courtier, is a Point assidual;

Yet we’re Non Compos, in this Individual:

Strange, uncouth Folly, deep mysterious Wrong,

Fraud o’the Soul, and mockinage o’the Tongue,

Disputes there are, and contraries will be,

But what should Puzzle, in Variety;

All Controverted Points, but prove this Truth,

Variety’s the God of Age, or Youth,

The Amorous Loves, But ’tis a varyed Face,

The Lawyer Pleads, but ’tis a varyed Case;

Litigious Clients jar, a varyed way,

The Man we hate to Morrow’s lov’d to Day,

The Scholar writes, but ’tis a varyed Theme,

The Hypochondriac’s Pains, a varyed Dream,

The Madman’s Frenzy, varys with his Pride,

The Pilot’s Compass, changes with his Guide,

The Soldier’s Mercy, with his Colonel’s Post,

The pious Chaplain’s in Right Reverend lost,

My Lord and Master are no more the same

Then’s Grace, and the Imperial are a Name;

All D1r 17

All change, all vary swift as Rainbow Sky,

Legibly writ in the Camelion’s Dye;

Just Hieroglyphic, ―― what Egyptian Pore,

Minutur’d in small, compriz’d such Store;

Concise and bright are Characters so rare,

Variety’s the Beauty of the Air:

Name me but one extatic Charm on Earth,

And say Variety got not the Birth,

Is, or is not, afford the God large Verge,

The Ungot, Unborn, are his intrinsic Charge,

It’s universal Rule no Rival knows,

No sawcy Rebel dares its Strength oppose,

The whole Creation Non-Resistance pay,

The Light, the Night, The Darkness and the Day;

Fame with her many Mouths, her many Wings,

Homage to gay Variety still brings;

Fase Reputation, nay, and eke the True,

To the same God, unwearied, ever bow:

O Reputation, every Nation’s Sport,

Shield o’the Maid, and Prudence o’the Court,

D Why D1v 18

Why walk’st thus wary? why obsequious thus?

Thou Plague of Courtiers, thou Directors Curse,

Thou half leaf’d Screen of a delirious State,

Thou Thing that mak’st the Poor, unmak’st the
Great,

Thou Something, Nothing, Ærial would be fane,

Vain are thy Hold-fasts, thy big Projects Vain;

Who prizes Reputation more than Ease,

Who studies more, well to deserve than please;

Find me the Man thus prizes Reputation,

And, were I skill’d, he merits Adoration;

Next Envy treads its Round and varies still,

Its every Purpose with its every Will;

Envy, the Brat of jealous Embers got,

When a Compound of Devils form’d a Plot,

Fears, Cares, and Doubts shape the ill-shapen Imp,

And every Foot the cloven Tread squeaks Limp:

What’s Jealousy? a Wildfire sulphur’d Black,

Of Thought the Venom, and of Soul the Rack;

What’s Jealousy? a Scaramouch Debate,

Intricate Troubler o’the Fond and Great; What

D2r 19

What’s Jealousy? a Madness o’the Brain,

Of Quiet and Repose th’ ugliest Bane;

One while I fancy ’tis a pondr’ous Thing,

That wounds the Bearer with a poison’d Sting;

And then methinks I see it great with Fears,

Unloading all its Doubts in Sighs and Prayers;

Another Minute, see, ’tis puff’d with Wind,

Like a full Bladder, and is too, too kind,

Stufft with Combustibles, and lies too bold,

Its hot Protests are o’the sudden cold;

At first its Fonds o’er swell a Spring-tide Flood,

Yet the Reflux in lieu of Milk is Blood,

Horror ensues, Horror first-born of Dread,

Burns up the Spirits and distracts the Head;

Had Courtesie or Conduct led the Van,

Thou’d’st acted juster, poor misled mad Man;

Courtesie, Stay of Planets, God of Crouds,

Courtesie peeps, and see red Malice shrouds,

Courtesie conquers all, both King and Slave,

Th’ unmeaning honest Man, and meaning Knave;

D2 D2v 20

By one soft Word the Subtil and the Wife,

Charm’d, lay aside, their all-trapaning Guise,

Courtesie, join’d with Conduct, knows more Guile

Than all the Wiles of wicked cunning Toil;

Conduct, the hottest Soul of hottest War,

Conduct, the Model of the deep-soul’d Czar,

Conduct, the God of Peace, General of Fate,

Engross just Conduct, canst thou be more Great?

Conduct is Prudence, Modesty, Design,

The richest Virtue o’the burning Line;

No Chinese Mandarin bred in skilled Art.

But Conduct Guides, O prosperous sure just Dart!

Conduct’s a Mine, is there a Fire below?

But Conduct knows to kindle, sound or blow.

See Admiration in a Wonder steep’d,

To think how the Herculean Mounds she scap’d,

Surprize’d in Agitation, yelps aloud,

And swears she never pass’d her jostling Croud;

Th’ Infinity of Atoms swift advance,

Vain they search Conduct in th’ ill order’d Dance;

Our D3r 21

Our differing Stages, different Methods try,

All Eager to ensure Variety,

By still new Ways, and still new Arts, they charm,

And Harlequin’s for all Disasters Balm,

Faustus, or Proserpine, or fair Europa,

With Dance, and Songs, a welcome Interloper;

Let but an Author, form a Pageant Play,

He’s almost sure, of making his Third-Day;

So much Variety, tho’ Nonsense takes,

The faulty make aggreeable Mistakes,

Let a false Player, make Extempore Phrases,

He’s sure enough, of Claps, loud Grins and Praises,

Deserve or not Deserve, is not the Matter,

Who vary’s most his Gesture, gets the Better;

What makes, a certain Actress so Diverting,

When pointed Epilogue, wrapt clean, gives Smarting,

Her Voice, her Life, her Look, her Air bewitches,

Makes you the Cully, and herself enriches:

Dear Affectation, who alike art Loving,

To Wits, and Boobees, scented Fop and Sloven,

O D3v 22

O! Rhapsody? When Dear Cutzoni Sings,

How many mad Enthusiasts, borrow Wings,

What Shoals of bleeding Fools sigh unregarded,

And oh! what Undeservers are rewarded,

They’ve no distinguish; Pooh, what Matters Taste,

She’s a fine Creature, by the public Grac’d,

She so amaz’d me Tom, Gad she so charmed,

Her quavering Throat, unparalell’d performed,

Then she shook every Note, so Sweet, so Strong,

She made Variety, of an old Song,

By Dear Variety, she grows so bright,

She’s, o’my Soul, the Court and Town’s Delight:

What can outvie Variety, what charm,

So feelingly the Soul, and Sense alarm,

Look on the Verdure, o’ the beauteous Fields,

Look on the Fructuous Crop, rich Harvest yields,

Look on the Azure of the blushing Skye,

Observe the Clouds, how various are their Dye;

Look on the laughing Lambs, and udder’d Kine,

Look on the Wadling-Duck, and gruntling Swine.

Look D4r 23

Look on the gayly feather’d Bird of Jove,

Look on the Queen of Beauty, God of Love;

What varyed Kinds, Variety contains,

See Nature, Skyes, Seas, Earth, it bears and Veins,

Search out the Embrio, whiles scatter’d Seed,

What curious Ways, Variety makes Breed;

Observe the Mass, whiles yet a Chaoss’d Ball,

See the nice Texture of the fluid Caul;

See how the lumpous Matter, Substance gets,

See how the purplous Life each Minute knits;

See how the Limbs, are fashion’d, how the Heart,

See how meer Nature treads on curious Art;

See how the growing Feature aims to Charm,

See how the Lungs, the Vocal Organ’s Arm,

Ask the brisk Eye, Why ’twill such Glances give,

Ask the young Minuture why it will live;

See Active Spirits, how they Reinstate;

See the Lip cherryed, see the Pulses beat,

The Brain, the Pore, the Ligament, the Nerve,

How first concentred, strenuously observe;

Look D4v 24

Look, how the Sinew ties the supple Joint,

How Intellects are Bodied, next depaint;

Tell how the Soul receives the first Impress,

Tell how it feels a Joy, how a Distress;

Examine every Faculty apart,

And ask the Sensiv’st Sense, how soon ’twill smart?

Bid Conscience deviate from severest Truth,

And Choak its Urgings, in our forward’st Youth;

Conscience, the Thorn of Baseness, Bliss of Good,

Conscience, the Young Man’s Guide, the Old Man’s
Goad

Conscience, the uncivil Evil, of the Great,

Conscience, Perplexity of woely State;

I’ve known a Mother fond, an only Boy,

Till that’s her Torment, would ha’ been her Joy,

The Young, Ingrate, Reprobate, Bold, and Wild,

Forgets alike he’s Favourite, or Child:

Spurns her Advice, and tramples on her Threats,

In streaming Tears, the Matron vents her Frets;

The Boy, ungracious, up-hill Deathwards climbs,

The poor Conscientious Mother feels his Crimes;

Now E1r 25

Now Conscience tell her, what before was told,

And what till now, she stifled with her Gold:

Variety, to Conscience ever true;

Now bids Command, now bends to beg, and sue,

The Grate confin’d, dull Man, by turns diverts,

His varyed Circumstance, by varyed Arts,

Philosophically, his Hour improves,

Thinks o’er his Follies, and refines his Loves,

Now blames his Youth, now his more perfect Age,

Unprejudic’d Scans Life’s ill-busied Stage,

Now wishes Freedom, with an arduous Heat,

Oh! how his Eye-balls glow, his Spirits beat;

In humid Torrents, now his Optic’s Roul,

Now he reflects, oh! horror of a Soul,

Now he unlearns his impious strong Resolves,

T’ avoid those Errors, Sadness now revolves,

Would Liberty the Libertine invest,

How much reform’d he’d be, oh! how much blest,

Obstructions over got, he gets the Race,

Now good he grows, fills Church, comem’rates
Grace,

E Till’s E1v 26

Till’s Antagonist, strong Despair encroaches,

And for’s past Life, taunts him with black Reproaches,

Has God deny’d h’ enslaves him t’a Devil,

And wheels the readiest Road, to blackest Evil,

State Life in every Form, in every Station,

Variety its first its last Gradation,

God unavoidable, what bars thy Rule,

Nor the Illiterate, nor the learned School;

The wand’ring Transport, in his Exile finds

Variety, in all his various kinds,

The Good-devout, Wild-Debonaire, Stern-grave,

Variety destroys, or know to save,

The Man of Trade, Crown, Office, or Posession,

Own a Variety, Maugre Profession;

Nay our Religious Movers of Opinions,

Our Baptists, Sixth-Day Men, Arians, Socinians,

Wife Muggletonians, Kirk Predestinators,

Deep read Italic Transubstantiators,

The Pro’s and Con’s, or Fathers, Councils, Bible,

Prove old Variety was never idle,

’Twas E2r 27

’Twas by a Novelty, the World was lost,

And a dear, Novelty the losing cost;

A lower for an upper Garden given,

Was but a varyed Bounty of just Heaven:

O! Ancient, Rev’rend, Sacred, Hallow’d, Thing,

First Gift of Jove, of every Good the Spring,

Thy ingenious Friendship, a just Artist makes,

From thee, the Statuarist new Models takes,

Designs, Invents, Begins, Corrects the Plan,

Till the fair Idea, makes a figur’d Man,

So have I seen and Architecture found,

Fix’d in Salubrious Air, on well chose Ground,

Less Glory, in the Causes of its Birth,

Than the rich Carvings, and well cover’d Lath,

The strenuous Beams, fix’d by a skilful Hand,

Firm the Foundation, deep the Columns stand,

The Mason, Marbler, Builder, Plumbers Pride,

Make Beauties, Wind and Weather dare deride,

The Painter blythly brights the polish’d Glass.

Vyes with the Goldsmith’s Plate, and Founder’s
Brass,

E2 Variety E2v 28

Variety, the All, that makes Delight,

The Owners Bravery, and the Master’s White;

Variety’s the God of every Clime,

All Beings own Variety sublime;

The swift-foot Hare, and eke th’ gen’rous Steed,

In different Countries, make a different Breed;

The spotted Lynx, and beauty colour’d Snake,

Variety, in all its different Countries make,

The big-mouth’d Hound, and Fox’s cunning Wile,

In changing Sports, our charming’st Minutes Guile,

What makes the Student, call his Proctor Tool,

And loath at once, his Learning and his School?

Want of Varierty. What is it makes,

So very charming, our bewitching Rakes:

Variety’s the Enchanter’s dear Defence,

That fashionable Fault, of Men of Sense,

Æolus sports with Changes very much,

The wanton Godess, can’t her Favours grudge,

Neptune, to please, her, wears in constant Brow,

Still for Variety, his Waters flow,

Jove E3r 29

Jove, ever known, a celebrated Ranger,

To Great Variety was never Stranger;

To various Forms, he turns his Godlike Shape,

And’s Complaisant to Change, in ev’ry Rape:

The Planetary Orbits of the Pole,

With what amazing Changes do they roll,

The Moon now New, now Full, now quarter hid

Borrows its Beauties, of the varyed Breed:

The glorious God of Day, the radiant Sun,

Fast follows the still, changing, moving Moon,

Now dark, now bright, now gay, now melancholly,

The gleaming glooming Glory, blinks more jolly;

Th’ unnumbr’d Myriads, of the starry Sky,

Trim their fond peepings, with Variety;

Now heare they’re scatter’d, now in shoals they come,

Variety, of Atoms, still the Drum;

So Footmen on some Garter’d Baron wait,

Whose varyed Faces make the great Man’s State.

O! Music, Charm of Angels, Charm of Gods;

Banish’d Variety, how harsh thy Odds,

What’s E3v 30

What’s Cadence, Number, Harmony, what’s all,

We good, delightsome, or deserving call;

Nay, what is all the Symmetry of Parts,

Were’t, not a Compound, of Harmonious Arts,

Medley Surprizing; ―― Hallelujah fine,

When a skill’d Consort, makes the sound Divine;

When shrill, and soft, when rough and smooth
agree,

Trumpet and Flute ―― harmonious Melody,

Bewitching Lov’liness, Beauty past Tongue,

Conceptions poorly drest, rich Ideas wrong;

Some lavish, busie God, strung the nerv’d Lyre,

Gods to enflame, and Mortals to inspire;

Jove, the gay charm indulg’d, Phœbus grew Proud,

Pallas and Juno, to the Magic bow’d;

Young subtle Orpheus, cheated sleeping Day,

And knavish Mercury paid a knavish Way:

Pleas’d with the Cunning, the bright God can smile,

And gave the Boy, the Play-thing for the Wile;

Generous Apollo, O! instruct thy Slaves,

Teach still, still tell, thy cunning artful Knaves,

Quick E4r 31

Quick let ’em know the tender Stroke! nice Touch,

Till Joc’lar Gods, their Demi-brothers reach,

And oh! when charming Voices aid the Sound,

May the sweet Concord, Jove’s just Vengeance
Bound,

O! Change, thou first, best Bounty of Just Heaven

Beauty of Truth, to Art for Beauty given

How shall I speak thee, how thy Fame define,

In my too lame, too rugged, harshly Line;

Forgive me this, too thoughtlessly I writ,

So younglings Marry, e’er they’ve Coin or Wit;

Just thus, a new made General courts a Name,

Yet backward treads, the Steps to public Fame,

Rashly besieges, and rashly takes,

His Monarch’s Honours, with his own he breaks:

Yet this great Man, hurls Fireballs fast and far,

Unsheaths a bright Blade Sword, threats a big War,

But where’s the Conduct, of the vast designs,

Few, close-soul’d Foes, the Warriour undermines,

By’s Loss made desperate, desperate means he’ll use,

At once, his Master, and himself abuse,

Basely E4v 32

Basely outgoes, the Liberty he’s given,

And by a base-got Conquest, forfeits Heaven,

Home th’ inglorious Conqueror Returns,

Drinks out of Gold, and makes him silver Urns,

Whilom, some hasty, begger’d Poet writes;

The Coward Soldiers infamous Exploits;

Makes him a God, each Action magnifies

Till Lucifer’s great Self, the Bard outlies,

Racks all his Wits, to find what never was,

Tho’ at the bottom, ther’s a pushing Cause;

Yet Sir Fluxbrains, so much erroneous grows,

His inside Sense, won’t find his outside Cloaths

Tho’ writing be his Ruin, still he’ll Write,

As irritated skilless Blockheads Fight,

When wou’d the Fool, to what he knows Pretend,

Meer common Sense, perhaps might stand his Friend,

Heroick Actions are sublimely done,

When those attempt ’em, who can scarcely Pun,

Still wilful ones with’s Scribble writes by Rote,

Till the enamour’d Fool, gets a drub’d Coat,

So F1r 33

So I my Sex’s Vanity pursue,

Plague me Variety, Tis but my due,

I own my Fault, my Folly, my dull Crime,

You have been troublous, I but rail in Rhyme,

Now I expect your Rage, forgive it too;

But you, like Sparks, forget us when we sue:

So have I heard a Calm, too Calm, cross Sea;

Port-binds a Merchant, bids his Ventures stay,

With a smooth Gale, and laughing gentle Wave;

Mocks the poor Ship, to unkind Harbour drave,

Ungrateful Wind, Storms we more easie bear,

To dye on happy Seas, is to despair.

Once more Variety, a long Farewell,

If I’ve done ill, commending Fops rebell,

If well, let but the solid Few, Applaud

The impartial Man’s Esteem’s a big Reward.

Postscript.
N.B. Setting my Advertisement in so improper a
Place, I think fit to tell you, is purely a Compliment,
to the God of Change; To whom, as you’ll observe,
I’ve sacrific’d the Poem That for That, &c.
Farewell.

F To F1v 34

To the Reader.

As Variety’s my Subject; I am almost obliged
to Preface my Poem. I do not think it Worth
many Words; But, if the hurry of a few Days Writing,
can make some Amends for its Faults; with the
thinking Part of Mankind, I have my Ends. This
last Canto, the town will easily conceive, I did not
at first intend; but I know not how, Fancy forced,
the Birth forwarded, and I e’en turn’d Midwife.

The Liberty I have taken with the Brothers of
the Pen, I beg may be excused, I meant it inofensive;
which is all the serious Talk I think Variety merits.

But I’ve a Word to come: To talk of Variety,
and not say something that hath been said, is, I think,
Morally Impractiable: As an Example, you’ll observe
where I thought my own Sense not pertinent
enough, I’ve borrow,d of my Neighbours, for Variety’s
Sake, which, I conceive, a Judge will distinguish,
without a Marginal-Note. As for those more nice,
than just Gentlemen, are good-natur’d enough, to call
the whole Piece a Robbery, I shall only beg leave
to say, genteely, they Lye ―― under a Mistake ――

The Loyal part I shall not Dispute, with the many-
minded Populace; But to write upon Variety, and
not find Room, for the Crown, is Like ―― as Witwoud
has it ―― Egad, tis like nothing at all.


And So, Reader,
I Am,
To Conclude,
Yours ――

Variety
F2r

Variety.
The
Second Canto.

“Satire’s th’ Effect of Poetry’s Disease, Which, sick of a lewd Age, she vents, for Ease, But here her only Strife, shall be to please.” Prologue to the Orphan.

When some young Limner, draws a

charming Face,

Curious, Exact, he’ll every Feature

trace:

What varyed Shadows, Lovely Lucia Shape;

Till Art gives Nature Warmth, and makes a Rape’

F2 With F2v 36

With varyed Pencils, varyed Paints unite,

Business is now the Painter’s chief Delight,

She’s now in Miniature, now in full Length;

Now in her Bloom, now in her Pride of Strength,

By different Ways, He’ll the Indifferent warm;

Tho’, sure to lose, dares dare the dreaded Storm,

Strong he endeavours, kind, Endears to please;

Sense grows to Rapture, now he cannot cease:

Well he reflects, well knows his poor Desert,

How wide he errs, from a skill’d Master’s Art:

Yet like damn’d Poets, sues the sterrile Clime,

And’s fondly ruin’d by his Loss of Time;

So I to Dear Variety, enchanted;

Emblem, a Solitary Castle haunted:

Nought will Inhabit, but the merry spright,

The Drummer’s Bent, all others to affright,

Indulgence is so very kind an Evil,

’Tis like a too, too much good natur’d Devil,

Forgetful of its Circumstance, or Place,

Considers little, till the Scourge says Grace,

And F3r 37

And I’ve Indulg’d, so very much the Folly,

It makes me, when I think, faith Melancholy,

But Dear Variety will have its Charms,

And to be play’d with beats up brisk Alarms,

I’ve known even Indolence, so much biggotted;

It varyed most, when most you’ve thought it sotted;

Know then, the indolentest Thing that breathes,

Hoards Worlds of Action, whil’st it Worlds Deceive’s

Variety’s of every Dream the Source;

Variety’s of every Thought, the Course;

Variety’s of every Word the Round,

Of all we do design, or hunt the Sound,

Look on Confusion, what is various more,

Look on the Flower, the Plant, the Fruit, the Core,

How various, yet how just’s the Gardener’s Care,

Here blows a Rose, a rich Carnation There,

See how the Poplar, shades the gay Alcove,

Look how the bending Ivy figures Love;

Observe the Elder, see the loaded Vine,

How both agree, to make us different Wine.

How F3v 38

How various look the Cedars and the Shrub,

How much unlike, the Eaglet and the Cub.

Next view the Herbage, see that Colewort Springs,

Look what a Product the Potatoe brings:

From thence proceed, see how that Turnip grows;

The blossom’d Beans, sweet as the Air it blows;

The Onion and the Apple, different Please,

The Grazier and the Cook live different Ways.

Confusion, oh! how different, are thy Wiles;

Teach me, Deceiver, thy tormenting Smiles;

Oh! Share with me thy close, full guilesome Breast,

Oh! tell me why Variety’s Unrest:

Teach me Confusion, Tell me where’s the Smart,

Of knowing Novelties, of knowing Art?

Confusion, tell me why thou’rt so approv’d,

By Men of Sense, why Honour’d, why Belov’d?

I.

Confusion, prithee tell me, what thou art?

Thou prime Enslaver of my Wild’red Heart;

That mazes every Thought, confounding ev’ry
Part

II. F4r 39

II.

Thou wond’rous Ranger, known but every where,

To every People and in every Sphere;

Or Jew, or Gentile, Civil, or Severe;

III.

Trusty Uneasiness, be kind, and tell,

Why Statesmen hugg thee, in their privat’st Cell,

And in thee blend, their inmost Thoughts of Hell;

IV.

How dar’d our South-Sea Plotters harbour Thee,

In their projecting, dangerous Companie?

Wert thou in League, when Bubbles were so free?

V.

Strange Mystery, of unstated, active Motion,

Ready, as Directors hot Devotion,

To Doctor the craz’d Town, to a Stark-mad
Notion

VI.

So when the Unseason’d Boy:

Courts, grim Death, in Fame’s gay Dye,

Thy delusive Pangs decoy,

VII. F4v 40

VII.

O! Mercy Rev’rend Ancient, of our brazen World

Thy burnish’d Engines, see are all new Furl’d;

All, all, on thy Slaves, Impertinences Hurl’d;

VIII.

Unfit for Business, for Delights unarm’d;

By wild jarring, Furies Charm’d;

For Pity in thy Favours, be I warm’d;

IX.

See the modest Cyprian, Swears,

’Tis by thee alone, he dares

Swell with hope, or taunt with Fears,

X.

Even when the Darling Man;

Charms the Fair to all he can;

All their Joys, thy Minute Span.

XI.

Or Ever the neglected Maid;

Sighs, the Ungrateful, that betray’d,

Thy obliging Troops, invade;

XII. Sawcy G1r 41

XII.

Sawcy Law, when falsly bold;

Trader’s Riches falsly told:

’S by thy daring Truth inroll’d.

XIII.

See, Great Confusion, all that vend,

Love, Life, Law, War, neglect Command;

In thee their Source, united, end.

Confusion, tell me then, why thus unwell?

Why thus at Enmity with all things, tell

Why ever Changing, never truly pleas’d?

Why by Distraction, ever, truest pleas’d?

Why still, Variety’s most fav’red Darling?

Yet ever surly, ever mad, or snarling?

Why homag’d by the Courteous and the Brave,

Why Thou dost All, and every one enslave?

I’ve known a Counsellor abuse his King,

Yet dread thy Frown, and bear about thy Sting;

A wealthy, unjust Man, grown Great by Fraud,

Deny his Patron, and make thee his God:

G A G1v 42

A Fop of Business, Sketch by thee his Schemes,

And own thy influentic Force, in Reams;

Have seen a Lover with his Mistress bold,

Shudder at thee, and lose the Tale he told,

Boys court thy Oracle, Girls fear thy Fame,

Some court thee for a Coach, and some a Name;

As in the Noble Science of Defence,

Two Craven Spirits, take and give Offence;

Both brawl, both curse, angred alike both grow,

Yet lay aside no Foils, give no home Blow,

The half-soul’d cowards fly a naked Sharp,

And Narure urg’d alike, design’dly warp;

Sudden they Slubber, like a wet-sapp’d Wedge,

Supple, as falling Boughs, kind as soft Sedge,

Reclin’d on one another’s Bosoms, clasp,

Guzzle, grow Friends, and humbly Pardons ask;

Late Animosities, believ’d, forgot;

Confusion! how thou mak’st the Blockheads Plot,

Each either way-lay, in an untrod Path,

Base Treach’ry gluts th’ungenerous spleenful Wrath,

One G2r 43

One mean-soul’d Wretch, the other’s Offering falls;

Him that remains, the bleeding Body galls;

Flying from Justice, Justice overtakes,

And now the Fool a shameful Exit makes;

Sung in Street-Ballads, lamentable Ditty,

His Farewel neither moves Delight, nor Pity;

Confusion, how with Taunts, thou fret’st the Oaff,

Faint he repents, faint prays, to hang right loath,

A Halter mads him, stern Confusion mocks;

He dyes, just like a Drunkard i’the Stocks:

Confusion, Son of Change, unworthy Boy,

Why bafflest thus, our Woe, our Toil, our Joy;

Why thus at Odds, Confusion’s still the same,

That is Confusion ever, ever Flame,

Confusion’s a Lord’s Page, a Madman’s Prince,

A Trader’s Conscience, and a States Defence,

A busie Harbinger, of swift-pac’d Motion,

Change bids, Confusion’s present Execution:

Variety’s Confusion, unconnected,

Confusion’s but Variety dissected.

G2 Anarchy’s G2v 44

Anarchy’s Sons are many, past being told,

Unregularity, his first-born’s old,

Unregularity, God of Disorder,

On whom unnumber’d Chaoss’d Armies border,

Unregularity, Matter’s first Foe,

Cause and Occasion, of our earlyesst Woe,

Time’s first subservient, Error’s first Begetter,

To whom all Beings are undoubted Debtor,

Error many-maw’d Wolf, thy blissfull’st Prize,

Error swarth’s many, a sweet gum’d Sacrifice,

Read big-bulk’d Volumes where’s one unerronious?

Peruse the Bishop, O how ceremonious,

Sacred or Civil, serious Talk, or Flash,

Error’s the middle, first, and finish’d Dash.

Search strict the Actions, of the Bravest He,

Unbiass’d look on modest Honesty;

View the rude Rustick, the grave humble Cit,

Error’s the Farmer’s Gospel, Mercer’s Wit,

How oft a Guardian-Aunt, to make Relation,

Wed her young Charge, against mature Discretion,

How G3r 45

How oft a Boy’s apprentic’d to his Hate;

Whose Genii, ten to one, inclines too great,

Made a meer Drudge, t’a Sawyer, Pedlar, Thresher,

Dough-Moulder, Tapster, or perhaps Ox-Dresser;

When bonny Billy, would have better suited

A Stage, a College, or in Courts disputed;

Had made a graceful Dancer, well read Doctor,

A swift penn’d Clerk, or busier Commons Proctor;

Unwilling dragg’d from School false Learning hunts

By Error made, a most accomplish’d Dunce:

Another will by Force, make’s, Son a Preacher,

And we’ve a Boobee, Swine-herd for a Teacher;

I’ve seen a Beauty smile, a Look so kind,

One would have swore, nought had disturb’d her
MMind,

Around her, all of varyed Art;

Could please the Eye, or pride the Heart:

Liverys and Flambeaus, Cupids, Gods, and Pages,

Blacks, Monkeys, Lap-Dogs, Squirrel’s, Polls in
Cages;

O! curst Ambition, white of a foul Kind,

Ambition, Error o’the fairest Mind,

Ty’d G3v 46

Ty’d to some Jealous Honourable for Life,

Ambition’s Hell, she loaths the Name of Wife:

Whilom some Lovely Youth, the Charmer knows,

Belov’d, as Heaven, and for him inward glows.

Confusion, oh! how thou uprip’st her Heart,

What would she not, thy Wild-fires t’avert;

The Youth she sees ―― Unutterable Confusion

Burns, Blushes, Dyes, with a too fond Profusion;

The Playsome Cupid, sparkles in her Eye,

Tells its fond Errand, in a half-stole Sigh,

Gay Opportunity, the Fav’rite takes,

Obliges the kind Hind, and all forsakes;

Whispers the Charmer, charm’d, he’s all her own,

Long hath he lov’d, lov’d her, and her alone;

The Declaration fires the Fair one’s Cheek,

Spite of her Pride, she scarce can Silence break,

Reproaches him, but ’tis in Terms so kind,

He easily may guess how she’s inclin’d;

He courts her strong, how shall she, can she act;

She loves, he sues, now with new Pangs she’s
Rackt,

She G4r 47

She Argues, Dreads, Doubts, hates Conubial Vows,

Can she be false? What, false to Married Spouse!

But oh! when Honour grows a fond Debate,

How little we resist, our Love how great;

Once gain’d she feels, the Error of Mistake;

A slighted Woman! God’s is Sense awake,

How many Spears, the fond forsaken forms,

How many Racks! and oh, how many Charms?

Revenge, Reflection, softs by turns annoy;

For still she loves, the too ungrateful Boy,

Vain Dress, Voice, Wit, the Wand’rer comes not
back,

Innocence lost, she’s to a husband black:

Confusion glories in the blushful Dye,

Ill-natur’d God thy Dealings justify:

Great Being; is it rational, is it well?

Variety disdains thus to rebell,

Gay Revolutions Unsatiety

And what’s Confusion, but Variety,

Erring Ambition, too aspiring Fiend;

What weighty Woes, th’ ambitious Darer rend

Blended G4v 48

Blended with Avarice, oh! the pointed Dart,

How flys the Feather to the aim’d-at Mart,

Profusion follows fast, unwelcome Guest;

Bold, blyth Profusion, tells them Great Men feast,

Charming Extravagance, torment the Fools:

Foot-balls of May-be’s, Senates under Tools,

Loud laugh of Faction, friendless, and unfriending

Extravagance their Rock, Avarice their Rending:

How have I seen, a Man of great Design,

Freight Ships, Kill Armies, Monarchs undermine,

Just as a Boy, with Scizers, makes a Fleet,

Paper his Timber, and his Fire-balls Wheat,

Anon ’tis Mann’d, Rigg’d, Cordag’d, Cannon plac’d,

With Anchors, Masts, Colours, and long-Boats
grac’d,

Full Sail for Holland, in some Pail ’tis launch’d,

Wreckt in still Water, and to Pieces Wrench’d:

Just thus are lost, the Great Projector’s Schemes,

So busie Men forget fallacious Dreams;

Variety of Nonsense, foolish Study,

How many Ways, Fops make their Wits more
muddy

O! H1r 49

O! Ignorance, vast are thy Voluntiers,

Thou own’st more Free-men, than whole Empires
Ears.

Hast more uncourted, ready, fond, Admirers,

Than fav’rite Lords Petitioners, and Tirers;

Unmatch’d Variety, in all thou’rt taking;

Variety’s of every Fool, the Making;

I’ve seen a Thing, so void of common Sense,

It scarce could count It’s daily Change of Pence;

Unpolish’d ignorant, almost as a Brute,

Meant by the God that form’d him, for a Mute:

For every End of Life alike unfit,

Made Great, Proud, Rich, purely for’s Want of
Wit,

’Twas a fair Proverb, Fools are Fortune’s Lure;

Be undeserving, Youth, of Luck be sure,

How many Fav’rites of Jove’s upper Sky,

Deserve, and for deserving basely dye:

Others live long, but live so poor, so bare,

Death were a Welcome, kinder, than their Care,

Oh; killing Misery, merit unrespected,

Unvalu’d, spurn’d, shun’d, slighted, or neglected:

H To H1v 50

To see a sneering Upstart, new in Power,

Cry ’S Blood, I know you not, ’tis my Ball-Hour!

Hey, Will, is the Coach ready? drive away,

Your Servant, Master, I’m engag’d to Day.

Another cries, like Timon’s Friend of Athens,

I well remember, you and I bought Play-things;

But Jack, I’m down in Pocket, I’m no Winner,

Stay, if you please, my Servants are at Dinner.

A Third, perhaps, more complaisant than either,

Bids him but Wait, he’ll do him a slight Favour,

After’s attending hourly and daily,

Denys his Promise, Court-Like, so genteely;

I, by my Soul, Sir, did my best endeavour

To make your Fortune, was put off so never,

But I’ll think o’thee, I’ve a Clerk on moving,

Remind me but, for there are others shoving,

The Clerk’s dismiss’d, by this Friends out of Favour

Lost by some Indecorum in Behaviour

O! Man, O! Vanity; of nothing proud,

Who ever knew a Coffin taunt a Shroud,

Variety H2r 51

Vareiiety of Vanity ―― Creator

Of every Ill, of every Good Translator;

Now if it Chance, this honest, worthy Man,

By some Variety, hap rise Again;

How humble, how obsequious are the Rakes,

All they then Acted, Certes was Mistakes;

Why really, Jack, my Circumstance was Low,

The Government’s uncertain Pay or so,

The Rogues had vex’d me, and I could not hide it,

Forgive my Humour, Disappointment try’d it:

The Equipage, you know, of gaudy State,

Little supports, when we talk Big, look Great,

Now demme Jack, if not a Groat’s in Purse,

Use thy Slave ill, he’ll use thee ne’er the worse,

I’ve known a certain Duke, the Crown Importune,

For Pension; yet live up to splendid Fortune;

Spark in the Side-Box, at a Play commanded,

Port propp’d, the Lord knows how! faith underhanded

’Twixt you and I, it is a secret Failing,

Some say he lives, by wenching, some by railing;

H2 You H2v 52

You know he’s handsome, hath a taking Wit,

And is alike, for Couch, or Closet fit;

Some tell us, he writes Letters, no unmeaning,

And gets from little Lewis, a large gleaning,

You know the Rest, he’s a cute Secretary,

And doubtless will not shrink at Ave-Mary:

Jack hears the Coxcomb, with a meaning Smile,

And thanks him complaisantly, for his Wile;

Crys, Sir, no more, ’tis now my busie Hour;

Here, Ned, you Dog, drive quickly to the Tower;

I’ve Business, hasty Business to dispatch;

There’s Roast-meat in my Kitchen, Sir, crys fetch,

What gone, crys courteous, kind mannerly shallow

Ouns I must after, how he frets my Tallow:

I’ll to the British, there he meets Fop Charles,

O my Soulvashoin, Joy, what think’st of Sharles,

I see him, ’Gad, this Morning, most amazing,

His Livery’s new reviv’d, wants only lacing,

He look’d so sparkishly, so Beau, so Pretty,

One would ha’ thought, he had not been less witty;

But H3r 53

But he receiv’d me so, it so provok’d me,

Told me my own, Egad, he almost choak’d me,

An arrant Lapsus Linguæ, Charles cry’s strait,

Let’s to the Thatcht-house, order a Large treat:

I’ll send t’m; Jack’s a Friend to brisk Champaigne,

Thou’rt, like young Surgeons, still in the wrong
Vein,

Too rude, too supple, talkative, or shallow,

Of late thou’rt sullen, sleepy or too mellow:

In vain the Puppies wait, in vain they send,

Jack’s now resolv’d, Jack’s Morals to amend;

Whilom to’s Rural Seat, the Hero’s gone,

Where truest Pleasures celebrate the Don,

Quiet, content, and social, now he lives,

No Wrong he takes, nor no Affront he gives,

Around him all’s a Spring serene and gay,

The Meads his Lambkins fill, the Barns his Hay,

Before him Milchy Goats, enriching Steers,

Behind him coupled Hounds, and swift-foot Deers

His Yards, his Courts, full fatten’d Poultry grace,

Amid his Parks, Birds play, and Harts embrace;

The H3v 54

The well fill’d Orchard, makes the Seasons rich,

In the sharp Quince, and beauty blooming Peach

The Amarinth and Eglantine make Shades,

Our Sight the Bower, our Scent the Sweet invades,

The balmy Orange, blows a balmy Breath;

The charming Rasberry’s Charms out-baffle Death,

The Box, and Filagreen, give lasting Bloom;

And even out-strive, Winter’s unlovely Gloom,

The Trout, the Carp, his Art made Fishpools Guard

Nought the neat Vassals, blythly Duty marr’d,

No idle hind abroad, at home makes Woe,

All please the Pleaser, all their Duty know,

O! Solitude, kind Father of Content,

To thee, the Wife, their knowing’st, Studies bent;

Great, Solitude, Variety’s Cheif Minion;

What Foes thou mak’st, are Rebels of Opinion:

Opinion, false Formationer of Faction;

Opinion, never ceasing Scourge of Action;

Opinion, who for Indolence hast Charms;

Opinion, who for Anger bearst fell Arms;

Opinion H4r 55

Opinion, twin-born with Variety,

Lop but Opinion, Change for Grief must dye;

Opinion’s all the honest Man’s Content,

Opinion’s all the guiltiest ever rent;

Opinion’s all can Motion justifie;

And all that dares Religion vilifie:

Fashion’s Opinion’s Son (a Revolution)

Old as ’tis new, yet various as Intrusion;

Intrusion, a Superior’s modest State,

Intrusion, from Inferiors most Ingrate,

Impudence of the Low, of Riches Wit,

For all things and for nothing mainly fit,

Sworn Enemy, to ever bright Content:

For why? Intrusion’s still to Discord bent,

Discord ill-fated Dæmon, Gloom of Hell,

Give me Content, thy ever limpid Well;

Content in vain, the Search of States and Courts;

Content, the blythsome Angel of Disports.

Now ’tis the Man, join’d to a lovely Bride,

Fathers a Son, Nature’s first Darling Pride;

Deep H4v 56

Deep Thought, and personable Graces, speak,

The Youth beyond his Years, Fate’s kind Mistake;

A Boy deserving of so great a Sire,

Born for the Wise to love, and Gods inspire;

Heaven blest Connubials, when the pregnant She;

Teems with a Generous, Lovely, Progeny;

Now ’tis indeed he lives the sprightly Boy,

’S at once a Father’s Glory, Mother’s, Joy,

O! may the Gods, their Darling still embright,

Till’s knowing Intellects are all of White:

I’ve seen a Boy, even in his Boyish Days,

Unbid, forget his Childish Toys and Plays,

To solid Learning bend his scarce-form’d Soul,

Beat for that Good his idle Minutes stole;

Perhaps the Boy in pictur’d Arts delights;

Perhaps in Books, in Carvings, Navies-Fights;

In something more sublime, than Common-Men;

For which he’s bar’d the Compass, Pencil, Pen:

But oh! so strong’s diverted Inclination,

They vainly bar, h’improves by Inspiration:

His I1r 57

His Night’s a Study, and his Day a Guile;

He’ll be a Scholar, spite of all the Coil:

Whilom, his dear Industry makes a Flame,

The coming Minute, Samuel dares the same,

Lockt up his Books, Inks, Paints, his Engines hid,

A-down by Chest, or Press, Buroe, or Bed,

Methinks I see him, wake, at Noon of Night,

Spurr’d on by Fancy, steal to’s strong Delight;

I see him here, Intrenching, Fortifying,

There Carving, Drawing, Studying, Beautifying,

The Dear aspiring Boy, ambitious grows,

Nought he’ll neglect, no flying Minute lose,

A happy Genius, welly purg’d by Year’s:

A pays his Hopes and exiles far his Fears,

Applause he courts, and by applause is crown’d

Dares, and deserves, bold leaps each threatful mound

At once made happy, and at once made Great,

What varyed Virtues the Deserver waits,

Ambition is a Cause so Brave, so Just:

As it Commands our Wonder, wins our Trust;

I Unwearyed I1v 58

Unwearyed Diligence, Strong Inclination;

What will not Will, when Crost, by Cross Vexation;

Had those forbid Amusements been design’d him,

Gods! how the very Gods had uninclined him,

When Uncle, would have Philip, Learned, and
Witty,

How rude looks Study, oh! how much unpretty,

Variety’s, the Axis of Delight,

Variety, still charming’st in a Flight;

What makes still fluttering Fancy so persuading:

Voice, Wit, Air, Feature, so insinuating?

What but Variety is so bewitching,

What but Variety, so much enriching:

What but Variety, intoxicates us,

What but Variety, still reinstates us;

First look on Fashion’s influentic Power,

Fashion, Variety can never sour,

Fashion, the Artificer’s, constant’st Plague,

Fashion, the Needle-Woman’s still Fatigue,

Fashion, the Milliner’s, for ever Thought,

Fashion, the Jeweller’s commending’st Fault,

Fashion I2r 59

Fashion, perplexive Torment of the Fool,

Fashion, Division of the Church and School,

Fashion, Directior’s Wit, Subscriber’s Folly,

Fashion, the Mimic of admired Colley,

Fashion, the Chamber-Maid’s too dear Enchanter,

Fashion, the Footman’s Oath, Dress Lye and Saunter

Fashion, the forward Country Girl’s Undoing,

Fashion, the Farmer’s Mock, the Trader’s Ruin,

Fashion, the dear, inconstant’ss best Defence,

Fashion, erroneous Blot of Men of Sense,

Fashion the Lady’s Pride, the Spark’s-top Joy;

The Country’s Strife, and the boon Seaman’s Hoy

Oh! how our pious Friends have daily mockt her

Foible alike, of Judge, Divine or Doctor,

Fashion’s the modern Medley of our Writing,

The taking’st Model of genteel Inditing;

The Ravishment of a deluding Voice,

Conduct, and Conversation’s Fashion’s Choice:

Be Air, Dress, Carriage, Jaunty, or Deforming,

Be it but fashionable, oh! ’tis charming.

I2 I’ve I2v 60

I’ve known some Fops lampoon a toasted Beauty;

And swear, Odslids, a Face should know its Duty;

Follow the Fashion, alter with the Times;

Or lose their Heads, as Great Men do for Crimes:

But wherefore, Sirs, Beauty’s a vary’d Glory;

A Structure brave, a modest, well-told Story;

Beauty’s a fast-made Ring, without an Out-goe,

By all desired, a Book but few a-right know;

Beauty’s a Lab’rinth, with an artful Door;

We Beg the Gift, and when we have it snore;

Unknow our Riches, dull ungrateful Men;

We would be bless’d, more vig’rously to sin;

The Beauties of the Eye, the Ear, the Lip;

Too much unworth; permit me, Queen, to skip;

Minerva’s Beauties bear right strenuous Force;

That prudent Godess may I ever course;

Assist me, Pallas, hide me with thy Shield,

Lest trayt’rous Venus storm by Force the Field;

There’s Witchcraft in a Person; we’re inclind

Too much, too very much to wrong the Mind:

But I3r 61

But, oh! the Beauties of a Soul so pure,

They’ll a strict Search, unshrinkingly endure;

Lend me, just Goddess, thy conductive Skill,

To sing the Charms of a well-order’d Quill:

The few deserving Moderns to depaint,

Sketch their white Good, as Seraph’s cloister’d Saint,

What is’t will stand the surest, firmest Test;

A Man of Learning, whose Conception’s just;

Solid his Morals, his nerv’d Diction true;

Modest, yet bold, his fructuous Meanings flow;

Sublime his Sense, ingenous, sound and strong;

Such, Mottley’s, thy unmatch’d, angelic Song;

Thy Antiochus, how his Madness Charms!

Eudosia’s Thrasimond, how brave he warms!

Syrian Seleucus a true Hero shines;

Stratonice bid’s Tears in Mottley’s Lines;

Th’ Imperial Captives are no more enslav’d;

By Mottley conquer’d, and by Mottley sav’d.

Romans or Syrians, in such vary’d ways,

You give us Meltings, we want Words to praise,

Pardon, I3v 62

Pardon, Deserver, I thus bold offend;

Freedom’s Variety still fastest Friend:

And oh! when Merit shuns by Choice applause:

How much we pride to break the Monarch’s Laws.

Sweet, Haywood, and immortal are thy Lines:

Smooth as the God, that in thy Novels shines;

What modern She hath grasp’d such true Desert,

Who does not envy thee thy charming Art?

But take this Truth, and take it from a Friend,

To your own Sex a kinder Envoy send;

Let not a Woman’s Writings blur her Sex,

Whiles too, too charming she their Faults dissects;

O Haywood! ever fear the Coxcomb Croud;

Of Woman’s Errors critically proud;

Excuse me this, unprejudic’d I rove;

My Vessel’s fickle, but my Venture’s Love;

Beckingham’s strenuous Language, all must please;

The Rover writes with Pleasure and with Ease;

The downy Boy deals us a manly Fire;

His Harry’s various Loves far World’s admire;

His I4r 63

His Youth reach’d Age, e’ere yet its earlyest Bloom;

His Rapine’s Resurrection’s Wit full-blown.

Forgive me, Dons of Wit: that thus I speak;

Youngling’s have Beauties, tho’ to your’s ’tis weak.

No Gods, no celebrated finish’d Men;

Blush from the Efforts of my Infant Pen;

I sing no ill-natur’d, lofty, big-puft Strain,

My Meaning’s honest, and my Version’s plain;

But whilom I’m forgetting, I digress:

And lose a Hero Writer for a less;

I must for this Incursion ask your leave,

As guilty Men beg a short Hour’s Reprieve;

The Conscious Lovers, of a certain Knight,

Will ever give us Wonder and Delight:

Great Steele, to speak thee justly, I want Skill,

For my poor Power, accept a richer Will;

Our Sex, your Indiana, so caress’d,

Had I been silent, I had not been just.

Centlivre, oh! how witty were thy Wiles;

Meaning thy Anger, meaninger thy Smiles;

Deep I4v 64

Deep thy rich Plots, nor wanted Humours new;

For thee the twisted Sisters sweeter grew;

Spite of the cruellest God Centlivre’s Name,

In varied ways shall make Centlivre’s Fame:

Susanna still Variety embless’d,

Change in Return bore her to change of Rest;

In Protean Lays, we’ll give the lasting Life,

Variety’s dear Minion, Maid or Wife:

Centlivre to thy Shade I owe these Lines,

My youngling Muse, a Product of thy Mines;

For which in dear Variety I pay

This Tribute to thy never-dying Day.

Fenton in Mariamne hurl’d such Darts,

He conquer’d Worlds, thick as she conquer’d Hearts:

In him the Fair shall unempoison’d live,

Aud pity’d Herod still Compassion give:

Go on, Great Man, illustriously proceed,

And when you’d make us knowing, make us bleed;

See Roman Bellisarius next appears,

Full of its Author’s sublimated Cares:

Hail, K1r 65

Hail wond’rous Poet, hail deserving Man,

Great’s thy good Language, greater still thy Plan

If there is Beauty in Dramic Piece,

Thou caught’st the Sweets of Athens, Force of
Greece.

Thy Bellisarius’ self is truly proud;

Uprear’d by thee, he ever was subdu’d.

Mitchell’s Extravagance bears fatal Arms,

His Indolence will never want its Charms!

Such varied ways the charming Man contends:

His Foes are many, but how just his Friends!

Variety’s undoubtedly the same;

On every Subject, and in every Clime,

In various Methods charm those various Men!

As now Variety directs my Pen!

Dear Manley, how thy British Lucius warms!

Thy Atalantic Satire, how it charms!

Heav’n! what a Stile! how soft, concise and great!

Where sweet, strong just, correctly either greet:

Sure she that pen’d the lov’ly ill-us’d Moor

Dropt thee her well-writ Oroonoko’s Power:

K Farewel K1v 66

Farewel, thou best accomplish’d of the Fair,

Snatch’d hence in haste to grace a nobler Sphere.

Varierry’s my Circuit, my Defence,

Variety of Years may give ripe Sense.

Variety’s a Pilot never still;

First guides us to, then pulls us from our Will.

Variety begs Pity from the Brave,

Variety commands, my Course I wave:

Variety, the public, now must hail;

Still ever sure, where we commend, to rail.

I’ve read the above-nam’d Moderns many ways,

Their Works, not faultless, know the Art to please;

Old Chaucer, Cowley, Spencer, Shakespear, Ben,

Writ most unfashionably, who know’s when;

Southern and Congreve, Sons of finish’d Art,

Dryden and Prior well perform’d their Part:

These Men were Poets, Poets worth the Name,

With Etherege, Son of Favour, Son of Fame;

Yet could my poor Attempts but equal those,

I’ve dar’d commend, methinks I’d dare my Foes.

Tate K2r 67

Tate, Farquhar, Otway, I unenvy’d see,

Mottley alone would think and write like thee.

It wo’not be, Variety I court,

And mere Variety makes me her Sport:

The Tennis Bauble of an idle Day;

Yet clings so close, I cannot get away;

Ty’d to the Oar, inclin’d or not inclin’d;

Variety’s the Dæmon of my Mind;

Gay, Swift, Pope, Eusden, move on smoothly Springs,

Gorge honey’d Hives, and borrow yellow’d Wings.

Some write for Humour, some for silver-penny,

Some out o’ Spleen, but for mere Sound the many.

Only the Man of merit makes us feel,

As knowing Gamesters conquer when they deal:

But now Variety bids me no more,

Lest the some pleasing Scent make other’s sore;

And now I fear my Zeal hath dar’d too far

In the too crude, commendatory War.

Pardon, judicious Friends, my juvenile Faults,

Youth’s a rash Monster, nor considers Halts:

K2 Excuse K2v 68

Excuse me, as a thing that’s newly thrown

Amid the better-fed, the better-grown,

Who daring at a Power beyond its strength,

Sees a full Flood, yet swims the River’s Length,

Born on pair’d Bladders, and reclin’d on Cork,

Half-spent strives thro’ the unadvis’d great Work;

Such my Variety, so frail, so giddy,

Thoughtless to leap a Writer’s dangerous Eddy;

A Gulph unfathomable! so confounding,

The Learned are puzzl’d at its ever Rounding:

But Variety, no more to teaze you:

I’ll now lay by Variety to please you:

But, hark! ―― I’m held with a rude strenuous
Force,

Mere Loyalty will not allow Divorce.

What, leave me desperate, cries the Politician,

To think on Poet’s empty-purs’d Condition:

’Faith; Madam, Politic’s are more deserving;

Than full-brain’d Fools, who purely lye for starving.

Why Politic’s, we know’s a Fool of Fashion,

But, o’ my Conscience, merits flights Compassion,

A K3r 69

A thing so sour, awkward, and so silly;

So very much a Villain, let me tell ye;

I’ve seen a murdering, unskill’d, fam’d Physician

Act, just for all the World, the Politician,

Look so demure, and carry’t so profoundly,

As Politic’s had taught him, to speak roundly.

A Politician’s a designing Rascal,

That cleanly lyes, and knows compleat to mask all,

Variety defend us from the Foe,

The Bulk-got Brat, on far wild Worlds bestow.

Oh! guard Great George from such contagious Evils,

Secure him, Proteus, from that worst of Devils;

From the inhuman Fox, keep Brunswick’s Line,

Guard ’em, ye Gods, guard ’em, ye Powers divine.

O, may we ever Lewis-George survey,

Great, as he’s good, till he mounts whitest Day.

May blith Augustus, make as just a King;

And Carolina’s Blood still bless our Spring;

Oh, lovely Anna, everlasting Glory!

Where Bloom, Wit, Beauty, make a learned Story.

Methinks K3v 70

Methinks, but hold! ―― Variety make way:

What am I doing ―― What is’t I wou’d say;

Variety assist me ―― Pardon Fair;

I see my Crime, too bold was my rash Dare,

Anna to speak, requires a moister Wet,

A wonton Quill, pay Anna’s large swell’d Debt,

Wanton in conflux’d, odorferous Charms,

A Mottley’s Fire, or Mitchell’s music Balms;

Variety, Oh, timely make Excuse!

For my light pinion’d, too unthinking Muse,

Respite me, Proteus, in return I’ll say

Variety deserv’d a Wit like Gay:

’S Life I ask pardon, I’ve so long neglected;

But I forgot how much Change, Gay respected,

Peruse his Trivia, see his What d’ ye call it,

Variety’s Bound, welly to extol it:

His Captives, Nay’s, Dione’s, so alluring;

The well wrought Flame’s a Charm ever enduring,

Honour, he homages in all Extremes;

Honour, he writes in Words, in Bows, in Reams,

Honour K4r 71

Honour, a titular Nothing, all would have;

Search of Desert, and Glory of the Brave;

Honour th’ Aspirer’s Pomp, the public’s Aim;

The Court’s Preservative, the Kingdom’s Game:

Honour, our Sex’s Goddess, Man’s protest;

The City’s Bubble, and the Country’s Jest;

To Honour then, we’ll leave the charming Fellow;

The Staff of Honourable’s still tip’d with yellow:

Variety, to him I have resign’d you:

Doubtless, improv’d by Gay, I may unwind you,

Variety’s the Genii of his Day:

Blith, looks the Loon, and ever is, bright Gay;

You’ll pardon, Friend, thus tediously I’ve teaz’d
you,

Sure, with Variety, I han’t unpleas’d you,

To soothly Indolence I’ll now retire,

Till Laziness, it self, to Action fire:

Variety embrisk’d, I’ll then obey:

As Parson strips black Gown, and slips to play;

Makes, of sound Moral, holy Conversation,

Next, Text the Plot, and close th’ Application:

The K4v 72

The Congregation charm’d with new and pretty,

Profess devoutly, ’S Flesh, the Doctor’s witty:

He told us such a feeling, moving Story,

Whilom the World, not College, makes his Glory:

So I ―― you understand me, but good by t’ye,

A Sequel, better, if I can, I’ll write you.

Two winged women holding a book open. Filigree details with a sunburst at the center.
To
L1r
To
Proteus,
The Indisputable God of Change,
A Dedication of the foregoing Poem,

To Thee, great, puissant, most illustrious
Proteus, I, thy humblest Servant,
humbly address, forgive my daring,
most invincible Divinity, Variety
is truly thine, who still inverts our Semper
Eadem
, and never art the same!
As no common vulgar Dedication can, in Propriety,
fit thy sublime Heir, Vicissitude; give
me leave, O agreeably inconstant Mercury,
to pay my obsequiously sincere Homage, in a
well-meaning, uncommon Manner, and jusltly
compliment the most high and mighty God of
Change
, with a revolutory Epistle, that shall
still more accomplish’dly beautify never-indolent
Variety, with an afterward Preface, excusatory
and commendatory, as an Hibernian
Prologue spoke after before the backside of a
Drama: But in what Words, O indefatigable,
uncertain; O charming, changing, never-
known Proteus, with what unaccountable
Jingle of never-standing-still Thought and
Brain Conceptions, must I tell thy coming,
going, never-sleeping Deservings,
I Am.

L
L1v

To the Town.

There are some Faults in the
Poem, of which you are desired
to acquit the Poetess, it being occasion’d
thro’ my Absence from the Press, I being
then in the Country. Those obvious
Rudenesses being contradictory to common
Sense, and consequently too discernible to
evade Criticism: These Lines beg may
excuse her Blush, and the good-natur’d
Obligement, will ever command, your


Friend,

Louisa.

L2r

Macareus to Æolus.
An
Epistle
.

“Soft, charming Numbers do our Souls inthrall. The rigid melt, and we turn Lovers all.” Higgons on Dryden’s Persius .
“O foul Descent ―― That to the height of Deity aspir’d Their Essence, to incarnate, and imbrue: What will not not lawless Love and low Revenge, Seek not Temptation then, Trial will come. O fleeting Joys ―― Dear bought with lasting Woes.” Milton’s Paradise Lost.
L2v

To the Reader.

Canace and Macareus I oft have read,
and have as often wondred Canace’s
Letter never found return, I own I thought
the Story moving, and why our Wits have
left it thus unfinish’d, am at a loss to judge:
What Crime lost us Canace’s funeral Dirge,
What God made Macareus love to such a
Guilt, such an Excess, yet feel a Woe, like
dying Canace, without an Exclamation, a
Surprize. I argued thus, thus split the Controversy,
urg’d on by Nature to defend my Sex.

’Twas not the Want of Feeling, Art, or Wit;

Nor could Great Ovid carelesly forget;

Something he pen’d, so soft, so much indulg’d it,

To the rude Vulgar never he divulg’d it:

Some friended Scholar lost it in a Fright;

Dreaded to own it, dreaded more to write.

Yours, &c.
Macareus
L3r
Two cherubs on either side of a crest of some kind.

Macareus to Æolus.
Done in Imitation of
Dryden’s Canace to Macareus.

The Argument.

Macareus writes to Æolus on the unhappy cause of his Sister
Canace’s Death, who kills her self with a Sword her
Father Æolus sends her, on a Discovery of the incestuous
Birth, the self-betraying Infant having, by its Cries, involv’d
the Twins (viz. Macareus and Canace) in irrecoverable
Despairs, occasioned by the boisterous Rashness of
their Father Æolus, God of the Winds: Herein Macareus
in Desperation pleads for his dead Sister; accuses himself;
defends their Crime; and resolves on Death, which he
soon after accomplishes by violently rushing on the same ill-
fated Weapon that destroy’d his Sister; altho’ at that time
a Refugee in Apollo’s Temple, His then Asylium, from
his Father’s Rage.

Canace murther’d, ―― Ha! What is’t I

hear?

Why, cruel Sire, why thus, thus

wrong severe?

A Fault there was: Macareus’ Guilt, his Sin:

Believe me, Sir, my Sister’d guiltless been;

Canace, L3v 78

Canace had not err’d, had not been ill,

Had not Macareus us’d a Villain’s Skill,

What did I not, what was’t I dar’d not frame,

To make successful my all-guilty Flame:

I swore, I knelt, nay flatter’d, begg’d and whin’d,

Artful as Merit, when for Need it coin’d,

Pity’d I was; caress’d as Virtue shou’d:

But Oh! I wrong’d the fair, the dear, the good,

I urg’d, nay forc’d th’ unwilling, trembling Maid;

Blushing with Anger, and with Doubts afraid:

As swift-shot Thunders, whilst I smiling gaz’d,

Sudden I grasp’d, and resolute I seiz’d:

Oh! had I first, to all now felt, been forc’d,

Canace, Oh! severely is divorc’d;

The ruin’d She, spoil’d of her Pride, her Fame,

In Tears, and deep-fetch’d Groans, laments her
Shame.

In piercing Accents forces thus her Tongue,

Why Macareus, my Brother, why this Wrong?

Your Kisses I return’d, your Tenders heard,

And kindly answer’d what I little fear’d:

You L4r 79

You clasp me close, I yeild without Reserve:

Hug you as frank, and say what you deserve;

All this a Sister might, Canace thought

A Brother like Macareus, had no Fault:

But now ―― and here she stopt,

Cold as a Dew-drop, to surprize a Prey;

She falls like Death, the Horror reaches me:

’Twas then this Villain Brother, Macareus bled,

’Twas then I fear’d, my lovely Sister fled:

Thought scarce can recollect the wild Extreme,

Then swell’d m’anarchal Soul with horrid Phlegm,
,

Palid my Looks, and stupid ev’ry Sense,

Guilt, Dread, Love, Death, chaos’d th’ soft Offence.

All Arts Invention could, I quick devise,

Till by Degrees Life Sparkles glad her Eyes;

Charm’d as a God, with grateful Nectar glad,

I strait receive the dear Confus’d betray’d:

With gentle, calm Embrace, my Crime I sooth,

Tell her ’twas Love, one Womb cou’d ne’er hold
both.

Tell L4v 80

Tell her, were’t so, mere Instinct would repel:

Her Macareus would die, e’er thus rebel:

Canace should be mine, my Love, my Wife;

She listens, argues, doubts, taxes my Faith:

All innocent, Canvasses Proofs I feign;

Tells me they’re weak, Incest a black foul Stain:

Could I but prove no Nearness in our Blood;

That she could love, too well I understood;

But ’twould not be, some conscious Secret told:

Then blames my daring, more her own soft Mold,

That wanted Power, t’unerve my stronger Will:

Tells me, were’t not a Brother, yet she’s ill,

Could we prove ev’n that, the All was past:

I had engross’d, her Shames’s a lasting Guest,

Tells me her Pride would be Macareus’ Wife,

But the Word thrill’d her, like a pointed Knife.

True she divin’d; our Kindred blends too close;

Our Loves arm clust’ring Shoals of new-known
Woes

Still Love I urge, still faintly she denies,

Still either loves, Love never wants Replies;

Still closer I pursue, Canace flies;

Flies M1r 81

Flies her Macareus, Gods! with such a Look,

At once Grief, Love, Despair, and Pity spoke;

I kneel, I cringe, a weeping, humble Slave;

My lovely Sister melts, forgives, and saves;

Indearing as a God, grateful I glow;

A silent Ecstasy unrobes my Woe;

Too big for Words, ―― my Heav’n I impart,

By a sincerer, and more solid Dart,

The mighty Beatings of a love-sick Heart:

She loves, what will not Love? she condescends;

Happy we grow as well concurring Friends:

Gods! how the happy Hours slid along,

Blith as our Joys, undreaded as our Wrong

But, oh! too soon, a heavy Woe invades,

And our warm Heats with blackest Guilt upbraids,

By long Acquaintance, and dear Fondness bred,

A youngling Embrio swift uprears its Head;

Canace, long, the growing Illness bears,

And fears to say what causes all her Fears:

M Sadden’d M1v 82

Sadden’d and palid’s ev’ry blooming Grace;

A deep, quick Sorrow chang’d her lov’ly Face:

The rising Weight, ―― made pensive ev’ry Look,

And new-known Woes with new-known Horror
strook;

Whilom, the striving Babe forces its way,

And with new Heavings bursts to open Day.

But, Oh! the Pangs we each and either feel,

From Æolus, Æolus Offspring to conceal;

Careful we shun a Father’s seeing Eye:

And each instruct each in a needful Lye.

But nought avails; the paining Hour comes,

Not to be brib’d with Gold of richest Gums:

Th’ ill-fated Infant, born to be our Shame;

Swift, as descending Gods in Whirlwinds came;

Th’ unartful Babe, no studied Art foreknows:

Pungent’s Birth-pains, more feeling After-throws:

No Lye, no Cunning, now our Sire deceives:

Æolus find, ―― Æolus scarce beleives;

Accursed thing, what has thy Squall betray’d;

Some God should, then, have lent us Juno’s Aid:

What M2r 83

What is’t I dare? whom is it I would save?

Canace’s dead ―― what is it I would rave:

Oh the unmated Woes our Passion brings;

Brother, and Sister, how th’ Accent stings:

So deep it rives, my All of Sense is fled;

It rives to Madness, poor Canace’s dead:

By Vi’lence dead, does Macareus live to tell:

A Sister, for a Brother, lov’d too well;

Oh, too much lov’d! too much lamented Shade!

Had Macareus known thus much, he had obey’d;

Obey’d and dy’d, and left lov’d Canace chast;

But, Oh! it could not be, I vow’d in Hast.

For those past Minutes, still admired Fair,

What have I done, and what would I not dare?

Were they to come, I surely should betray,

And boast the Rape, spite of the Blush of Day;

What’s Kin, a Tie, if any Ties most kind:

We’re then most Friends, when most as Friends
we’re join’d

What’s Custom, the the trifling Mode of Place?

A very Nothing: We Jove’s Actions trace:

M2 His M2v 84

His great-soul’d Juno bids us nothing dread,

A Sister-Wife becomes a Brother’s Bed:

Hist ―― Macareus raves; Canace’s dead, she’s gone;

To Æolus sacrific’d by Æolus’ Son:

Æolus, most unjust, what Fury fir’d

Thy more than Whirlwind Rage, that she’s expir’d?

Could not the’ unsinning Infant make amends;

A Life so inoccent might sate revenge,

Is’t manlike to be cruel to the Fair?

Is’t Godlike, to be thus unweigh’d severe;

Had you, as Father, or as King, been brave,

The fatal Gift were mine, her’s the Repreive:

Gladly this Macareus had obey’d your Will;

My Sister, then, had liv’d to’ve purg’d the Ill;

Think, think, rash Æolus, ’twas your Daughter dy’d,

In all her Sex’s Woes, in all their Pride;

Think how much Weakness unprepar’d her Mind,

Too much unfit, and you too much unkind:

Was not a Mother’s Pangs, a Mother’s Grief,

Enough, but she must die? Oh barbarous Chief!

Th’ un- M3r 85

Th’ unhappy, unoffending Babe, ’tis true,

Brought others Guilt, and ’twere but Guilt to view

That guilty, guiltless Thing, remov’d and torn

By Brutes less salvage, were enough of Scorn,

Th’ incestuous Sacrifice might, sure, have bought,

Canace’s dearer Life; what was her Fault?

She knew no Guilt but what I forc’d, must she

Suffer in Life and Fame for perjur’d me?

Rather let Macareus die in ev’ry Pore;

Thrice double, ev’ry Agony, she bore,

Feel ev’ry vary’d Torture of th’ accurst,

And let dark Pluto know I dare his worst;

Amid’em all, dear, charming, much moan’d Shade,

Think of Canace, and their Plagues degrade;

I come, Canace, to thy dear Embrace,

Spite of all Hell, we’ll meet in yon gloom’d Maze,

No parting Tears would thy swift Fate admit,

Unhappy Æolus Power, forc’d thee to submit,

Well ―― it is past ―― let Æolus sate his Spleen,

I meet thee, Sister, ―― on the’ Elysian Green:

Not M3v 86

Not ev’n this Temple, to Apollo vow’d,

Shall make thy Brother long lament thy Shroud.

See, dear Deserver, see how swift I come,

Look, lovely Sister, Macareus shares thy Doom;

May our stern Father, late, but feeling know

Our fatal Exit, our unmated Woe;

Whilst thee and I amaze the wond’ring Gods;

And love so true, set all their Heav’n at odds;

Æolus, then perhaps, will vainly Rage,

With filial Piety we’ll prop his Age;

Thy Macareus will, then, be for ever blest:

But now no more ―― I fall ―― I die ―― I rest.

Æolus
M4r

Æolus and Pluto,
Occasioned by the foregoing:
A Poem.

“―― Revenge at first, tho’ sweet, ―― Bitter, e’re long, back on it self recoils.” Milton’s Paradise Lost.

Æolus, having heard his Childrens
Fate,

Æolus, of all the blustring Gods most
great,

In raging fury leaves his hollow
Throne,

And with a loud and melahncholy Groan,

Surveys his Palace. ――

There Canace lies:

The childless Mother for a Brother dies;

Afresh she bleeds, the horrid Coarse he views;

Big, still-stern Griefs force Nature’s humid Dews;

Thence M4v 88

Thence, the sad Monarch to the Temple fast;

Where hapless Macareus breath’d his last;

Long fix’d he stands, forsook of all the God;

Supine as Death, and stupid ――

―― when, to scare

The Godless God, his Children straight appear,

Guarded by Pluto, ―― who to this Effect.

God of the Winds, ―― These lost by yonur Neglect,

These, once a God’s, a King’s, a Father’s Pride,

Wanting a Father’s Care, a Mother’s Guide,

These now are mine, command thy blustring Air,

Free thy unhappy Offspring from Despair;

Command this Son, whom thou so oft didst crown

With Hurricanes and Whirlwinds of thy own,

Command him now upon thy Throne to sit,

Bid thy fair Daughter charm thee with her Wit.

This Boy, hadst thou been careful to inure

To hardy Blasts, made him sharp Blites endure:

Hadst thou, betimes, the darling youngling bred,

To’ve rul’d thy Boreas ―― not to’ve nicely fed:

Hadst N1r 89

Hadst taught him how thy Secrets he might know,

When Winds should whistle, and when Storms
should blow:

Hadst thou instructed him how Gods should reign,

He had not now, been thus thy Grief and Stain:

This Daughter too, when young hadst Prudence
taught,

She had not now known this infamous Fault:

Take this Advice, take it from Pluto’s Truth,

Parents should early part their growing Youth:

From differing Sexes, differing Thoughts will rise

And Friendship’s often Love in warm Disguise;

Brother’s and Sisters, have a thousand ways;

When bred together, Nature’s Heat to raise,

Youth, Humour, Conversation, Likeness, Charm,

And Love, fond Love, unlawful Love’s the Balm;

A dangerous Commerce, when we Girls immure,

And make a Brother guard the Fair obscure:

Who can instruct? in whom can they delight?

Who’s just enough to shew ’em black who white.

Unthinking Man, whose Hounds and Horses feed;

Yet never cultivates immortal Seed;

N Relation’s N1v 90

Relation’s, now, a very Term of Art;

Where Lover’s oftner written in the Heart:

Art thou a God? can thy Foreknowledge tell;

These in one Womb jointly at once did dwell,

Humour’d and featur’d so, that, bating Sex,

Which was the other, would God perplex:

And canst thou find no Sympathy of Soul

Run thro’ the Texture of the curious Whole?

All are not fond, yet all to Love incline,

The earthy part, still clogging the divine,

But those, who at one Birth, one Blessing share;

Are not less am’rous than they’re kind and fair;

Your Care had been to’ve parted the young Elves:

E’re yet they knew, or Nature, or themselves:

Know, since your part, so careless, you’ve perform’d,

Your Kingdoms vanquish’d, and your Godhead
storm’d

Look now, who whirls your Earth, who stills your
Sea

Unprudent Monarch, these must hence with me.

So said, grim Pluto, o’ the Instant sinks;

His Ghosts groan shrill; and puff contagious Stinks;

Caught N2r 91

Caught by the’ Infection, sullen Æolus moves, ――

But had you seen a high-hung Meteor glare;

That long had choak’d its Beams in smoky Air,

Hid in a Cloud, one vengeful Minute burst;

So rag’d, long-silent Æolus, so he curst;

Are there no Gods! then stamp’d, and tore his Robe;

By Jove’s great self, I’ll overturn his Globe,

Nature be mad; may Seas be never still,

Gods, Gods, what Gods, bid Æolus, Æolus kill;

Must I, because my Children was unpure,

This Rack, this Hell, this Agony endure;

I will not bear it, by th’ Ætherial Sky,

I’ll mar your Malice, Gods, and mortal die;

Neptune, receive me to thy wat’ry Steep;

Boreas my Empire guard; I sleep, ―― I sleep. ――

From high Olympus, then, the Monarch fell

To Pluto’s Regions, and the Dark of Hell,

There, for a while, the angry howling God

Felt Jove’s indignant Rage in Pluto’s Rod;

Thence N2v 92

Thence he’s releas’d for Pangs more pungent found,

And to a hollow Cavern Gloom he’s bound;

Continu’d Madness, still, his Reason turns;

Continued Fires his knowing Soul still burns.

So is a Caitiff to a Prison ty’d,

When the poor Mortal had been eas’d to’ve dy’d

But knowing Gods, engross Grief’s largest Store,

Reflecting Wisdom makes them feel the Sore.

Then what is Knowledge, Vanity well dress’d,

Since to be knowing is to be unbless’d;

Grant me, Supreme, a Knowledge of my self;

I ask no Honours, no inconstant Pelf;

In what I’ve dar’d, I wou’d have Justice fair;

Would not be flatter’d, nor be us’d severe;

Impartial few to Ovid I ―― pretend;

Not as a Critic, but an honest Friend:

What’s done, as from a Woman’s Weakness take;

I writ to please, for yours, and my own sake.

Finis