N thefe gay thoughts the loves and graces fhine,
And all the writer lives in ev'ry line;
His eafy art may happy nature feem,
Trifles themfelves are elegant in him.
Sure to charm all was his peculiar fate,
Who without flatt'ry pleas'd the fair, and great;
Still with esteem no less convers'd than read;
With wit well-natur'd, and with books well-breds..
His heart, his mistress and his friend did fhart;
His time, the muse, the witty, and the fair.
Thus wifely careless, innocently gay,.
Chearful, he play'd the trifle, life, away,
Till death fcarce felt his gentle breath fuppreft,
As fmiling infants fport themfelves to rest:
Ev'n rival wits did Voiture's fate deplore,
And the gay mourn'd who never mourn'd before;
The trueft hearts for Voiture heav'd with fighs,
Voiture was wept by all the brightest eyes;
The smiles and loves had dy'd in Voiture's death,
But that for ever in his lines they breath.
Let the strict life of graver mortals be
A long, exact, and ferious comedy,
In ev'ry scene some moral let it teach,
And, if it can, at once both please and preach:
Let mine, like Voiture's, a gay farce appear,
And more diverting ftill than regular,
Have humour, wit, a native ease and grace;
No matter for the rules of time and place.
Criticks in wit, or life, are hard to please,
Few write to those, and none can live to these.
Too much your fex is by their forms confin'd,
Sévere to all, but moft to womankind;
Custom, grown blind with age, muft be your guide;
Your pleasure is a vice, but not your pride;
By nature yielding, ftubborn but for fame;
Made flaves by honour, and made fools by fhame.
Marriage may all thofe petty tyrants chase,
But fets up one, a greater, in their place;
Well might you wish for change, by thofe accurft,
But the laft tyrant ever proves the worft.
Still in constraint your fuff'ring fex remains,
Or bound in formal, or in real chains;
Whole years neglected for fome months ador'd,
The fawning fervant turns a haughty lord;
Ah quit not the free innocence of life,
For the dull glory of a virtuous wife!
Nor let falfe shows, or empty titles please;
Aim not at joy, but reft content with ease.
The Gods, to curse Pamela with her pray'rs,
Gave the gilt coach and dappled Flanders mares,
The shining robes, rich jewels, beds of ftate,
And, to compleat her blifs, a fool for mate.
She glares in balls, front-boxes, and the ring,
A vain, unquiet, glitt'ring, wretched thing!
Pride, pomp, and state but reach her outward part,
She fighs, and is no Duchefs at her heart.
But, Madam, if the fates withstand, and you
Are deftin'd Hymen's willing victim too,
Truft not too much your now refiftless charms,
Thofe, age or fickness, foon or late, difarms;
Good humour only teaches charms to laft,
Still makes new conquefts, and maintains the paft:
Love, rais'd on beauty, will like that decay,
Our hearts may bear its flender chain a day,
As flow'ry bands in wantonness are worn;
A morning's pleasure, and at evening torn:
This binds in ties more eafy, yet more ftrong,
The willing heart, and only holds it long.
Thus * Voiture's early care ftill fhone the fame,
And Montbaufier was only chang'd in name;
By this, ev'n now they live, ev'n now they charm,
Their wit ftill sparkling, and their flames ftill warm.
Now crown'd with myrtle, on th'Elysian coaft,
Amidst thofe lovers, joys his gentle ghost:
Pleas'd, while with fmiles his happy lines you view,
And finds a fairer Rambouillet in you.
The brightest eyes of France infpir'd his mufe,
The brightest eyes of Britain now perufe,
And dead as living, 'tis our author's pride,
Still to charm thofe who charm the world befide.
On her leaving the Town after the CORONATION.
S fome fond virgin, whom her mother's
Drags from the town to wholfom coun
Juft when she learns to roll a melting eye,
And hear a fpark, yet think no danger nigh;
From the dear man unwilling fhe must fever,
Yet takes one kifs before the parts for ever.
Thus from the world fair Zephalinda flew,
Saw others happy, and with fighs withdrew;
Not that their pleafures caus'd her difcontent,
She figh'd not that they ftay'd, but that she went.
She went to plain-work and to purling brooks, Old-fashion'd halls, dull aunts, and croaking rooks,
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