The HEROINES, or Modern Memoirs.

By the Same.

'N ancient times, fome hundred winters past,

IN

When British dames, for confcience fake, were chaste,

If fome frail nymph, by youthful paffion fway'd,

From Virtue's paths unhappily had stray'd:
When banish'd reason re-affum'd her place,
The conscious wretch bewail'd her foul disgrace;
Fled from the world, and pass'd her joyless years
In decent folitude and pious tears;

Veil'd in fome convent made her peace with heaven,
And almost hop'd-by Prudes to be forgiven.

Not fo of modern wh-res th' illustrious train,
Renown'd Conftantia, P-ton and V-ne;
Grown old in fin, and dead to amorous joy,
No acts of
penance their great fouls employ.
Without a blush behold each nymph advance,
The luscious Heroine of her own romance.
Each harlot triumphs in her loss of fame,
And boldly prints and publishes her shame.

1751.

The

The PARTING.

By the Same.

Written fome Years after Marriage.

THE

I.

HE rifing fun through all the grove
Diffus'd a gladfome ray:

My Lucy fmil'd, and talk'd of love,

And every thing look'd gay.

II.

But oh! the fatal hour was come
That forc'd me from my dear:

My Lucy then through grief was dumb,
Or spoke but by a tear.

III.

Now far from her and bliss I roam,

All nature wears a change:

The azure sky seems wrapt in gloom,

And every place looks strange.

IV. Those

Ív.

Those flow'ry fields, this verdant scene,
Yon larks that towering fing,

With fad contrast increase my spleen

And make me loath the fpring.

Memory! celeftial maid !

Who glean'ft the flow'rets cropt by time;

And, fuffering not a leaf to fade,

Preferv'ft the bloffoms of our prime ;

Bring, bring those moments to my mind
When life was new, and Lesbia kind.

II.

And bring that garland to my fight,

With which my favour'd crook fhe bound; And bring that wreath of rofes bright Which then my feftive temples crown'd.

And to my raptur'd ear convey

The gentle things fhe deign'd to say.

III.

And sketch with care the Mufe's bow'r,
Where Ifis rolls her filver tide;

Nor

yet omit one reed or flow'r,

That shines on Cherwell's verdant fide; If fo thou may'st those hours prolong, When polish'd Lycon join'd my fong.

IV.

The fong it 'vails not to recite

But fure, to footh our youthful dreams,

Those banks and ftreams appear'd more bright

Than other banks, than other streams:

Or by thy foftening pencil fhewn,

Affume they beauties not their own?

V.

And paint that sweetly vacant icene,
When, all beneath the poplar bough,
My fpirits light, my foul ferene,

I breath'd in verfe one cordial vow;
That nothing should my foul inspire,
But friendship warm, and love entire.
VI.

Dull to the fenfe of new delight,

On thee the drooping Mufe attends; As fome fond lover, robb'd of fight, On thy expreffive pow'r depends; Nor would exchange thy glowing lines, To live the lord of all that shines.

VII.

But let me chase those vows away,

Which at ambition's fhrine I made; Nor ever let thy skill display

Those anxious moments, ill repaid:
Oh! from my breast that season rase,
And bring my childhood in its place.
VIII.

Bring me the bells, the rattle bring,
And bring the hobby I bestrode;

When