'Twas when the friendly shade of night
Suspends the busy cares of light,
And on the various world bestows
Or sprightly joy, or calm repose.
With gen'rous wine the glass was crown'd, And mirth, and talk, and toasts went round.
Clarissa came to bless the feast,
Clarissa, dearly welcome guest.
Not such she look'd as when by day
She blazes in the diamond's ray;
And adding to each gem a grace,
Gives India's wealth the second place.
But soft reclin'd in careless ease,
More pleasing, less intent to please.
Loose flow'd her hair in wanton pride,
Her robe unbound, her zone unty'd;
Half bare to view her milk-white breast,
A slender veil scarce shades the rest:
Her eye with sparkling lustre glows,
And wit in sweetest accent flows.
Now sooth'd the angel's voice I hear,
And drink in love at either ear;
Now stung with wilder rapture gaze,
While our eyes meet with blended rays;
And kindling in th' infectious flame,
I feel what words want pow'r to name.
Awaking from the silent trance, Cautious I steal a broken glance; In clam'rous mirth each pang disguise, And laughter swell with bursting sighs; 36 For Envy, pallid fiend, was there, And Jealousy with watchful care.
Now ends the feast, each guest retires,
And with them all my soul desires,
Clarissa goes.-Ah! cruel fate!
She goes with her ill-sorted mate:
Sullen and slow he moves along,
And heavy hums a drowsy song.
O! drowsy may the monster lye,
And instant slumbers seal his eye !40
So shalt thou, best belov'd, escape
The horrors of a legal rape.
Or, should the brutish instinct goad, And thou must bear th' unwelcome load;
If struggle, pray'r, pretence be vain,
To shun what tyrant-laws ordain;
Ah! sparing deal our scanty dues,
And keep whate'er thou canst refuse !
Ah! give no bounding pulse to beat,
No cheek to glow with genial heat!
No breast to heave in am'rous play,
No limbs to twine, no hands to stray;
But sluggish press the joyless bed,
And lie in cold indiff'rence dead:
Nor let the blasting spoiler sip
The fragrance of thy balmy lip!
To share with him the lover's part,
Were rank adultery of the heart.
But if, in chaster love's despite,
Warm nature catch the known delight;
While fierce desires tumultuous rise,
And rapture melts thy closing eyes;
Ah! be those joys for me design'd,
And let me rush upon thy mind!
To me the burning kiss impart,
On me impress the humid dart,
For me unlock the nectar'd store,
Then sigh, and dream the transport o'er !
Thus with her lov'd idea fraught, Delusive fancy charms my thought; And joining in the flatt'ring cheat, Willing I hug the dear deceit ;
From fiction real bliss receive,
And all I fondly wish believe;
Nor envy to a husband's arms,
The dull fruition of her charms.
But when, regardless of my truth,
She smiles on some more favor'd youth;
And while he whispers in her ears,
With more than wonted pleasure hears; &6
My jealous thought his voice supplies,
And reads perdition in her eyes.
Then torn with envy, love, and hate,
I wish her with her wedded mate.
THE chaste Orinda rose; with purer light,
Like modest Cynthia, beaming thro' the night:]
Mrs. Catherine Philips: she was distinguished by
most of the wits of king Charles's reign, and died
young. Her pieces on friendship are particularly ad-
mired. See Epistle xiii. in this volume.
6. Who can unmov'd hear Winchelsea reveal
Thy horrors, spleen! which all, who paint, must
feel?] Anne, Countess of Winchelsea, a
lady of great wit and genius, wrote (among others) a
poem, much admired, on the Spleen, and is praised
by Mr. Pope, &c. under the poetical name of Ardelia.
ibid. Hail, Cockburne, hail! even now from Reason's
bowers
Thy Locke delighted culls the choicest flowers
To deck his great, successful champion's head,
And Clarke expects thee in the laurel shade.]
Mrs. Catherine Cockburne was the wife of a clergy-
man, lived obscurely, and died a few years ago, in an
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