How fhall I now my tale purfue, So paffing ftrange, fo paffing true? When every bit from every hoard, Was brought and laid upon the board, Left some more urgent obligation Might interrupt her pleafing toil, And marring half her application, The promis'd hopes of profit spoil, Before the folds a fingle rag, Or takes a cap from board or bag, That nothing might her work prevent, (For fhe was now refolv'd to labour, With earnest hope and full intent To get the better of her neighbour) Into the garden she would go To do that necessary thing, Which must by all be done, you know, By rich and poor, and high and low, By Male and Female, Queen and King, She little dream'd a common action, Practis'd as duly as her pray'rs, Should prove fo tedious a tranfaction, Or coft her fuch a fea of cares. In fhort the ftreams fo plenteous flow'd, A FAMILIAR LETTER OF RHIMES то A LADY. YES-I could rifle grove and bow'r And ftrip the beds of every flow'r, And deck them in their fairest hue, The lily pale, by my direction, Should fight the rofe for your complexion; Fit fragrance for the ladies' nofes, Which drooping, on your breast reclining, While all the fnow about your breaft For those who rarely foar above Her cheek, her eye, her bofom show The rofe, the lily, diamond, fnow. Jet, milk, and amber, vales and mountains, Stars, rubies, funs, and moffy fountains, The poet gives them all a fhare In the description of his fair. She burns, the chills, fhe pierces hearts, With locks, and bolts, and flames, and darts. And could we truft th' extravagancy Of every poet's youthful fancy, They'd make each nymph they love fo well, As cold as fnow, as hot as -O gentle lady, spare your fright, But, could a female form be shown, To make the poet's nymph compleat She'd be as ugly as a witch. Come then, O mufe, of trim conceit, Of French or Tuscan SONNETEER, On beauties which the nymph must hide; For |