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FROM A YOUNG LADY TO HER
WHO WAS GOING TO SEA.
Farewell! dear Swain, let neither seas nor wind
My dearest Celia! further griefs forbear,
THE CHOICE OF A BACHELOR'S WIFE.
When I am to chuse a woman,
As who knows but I may marry?
First, to make my choice the bolder,
I would have her child to such,
Than antiquity can touch :
Yet an ancient stock may bring
Branches, I confess, of worth :
Those descents that brought them forth;
Therefore, to prevent such care,
That repentance soon may bring;
Uusefully good, not glittering :
Yet I would have her fair as any,
But not give her charms away ; I would have her free to many,
Look on all with equal day ; But, when descending to the sea, Still let her set with none but me.
If of proud majestic mien,
Such as they fine women call, In whatsoever place she's seen
She will courted be by all; But let her heart with such pride glow, That still to all she answers no.
Yet I would not have her lose
So much breeding, as to fling Unbecoming scorn on those
That must worship ev'ry thing; To give loose glances if she fear, The loosest man will chaste appear.
Let her be by nature wise,
But not learned grown by arts; In the one a pleasure lies,
Th’ other self-conceit imparts : Good sense will make a wife more civil; But critic learning-a mere devil.
Nor a fam'd, reputed wit,
Shall she 'mong the witlings be ; Such most follies do commit;
For such like too light ships we see, Which with small ballast and great sail Are soonest apt to turn up tail.
Nor she shall not, while she's woo'd,
Blush for ill thoughts that are past;
That her dreams were ever chaste;
While I court her, as a maid,
Let her shew a thousand fears ;
After vows, and after tears ;
When the priest first joins our hands
I would have her think but thus ;
Like twins, kind heav’n bath planted us;
AN OLD SERVANT TO LEWIS THE THIRTEENTH,
To Cardinal Richlieu.
Sick of a life possess’d in vain,
I soon shall wait upon the ghost
None who had merit miss'd a post.
Then will I charm him with your name,
Tell all the wonders you have done,
The rising honours of his son !
Grateful the royal shade will smile,
And dwell delighted on the theme, Fully appeas'd, his griefs beguile,
And drown old losses in new fame.
But should he ask me in what sphere,
I did your wish'd commands obey,