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While the spread fan o'erfhades your clofing eyes;
Then give one flirt, and all the vision flies.
Thus vanish fceptres, coronets, and balls,
And leave you in lone woods, or empty walls!
So when your Slave, at fome dear idle time,
(Not plagu'd with head-achs, or the want of rhyme)
Stands in the streets, abftracted from the crew,
And while he seems to study, thinks of
Just when his fancy points your fprightly eyes,
Or fees the blush of soft Parthenia rise,




Gay pats my shoulder, and you vanish quite,
Streets, Chairs, and Coxcombs rufh upon my fight;
Vex'd to be ftill in town, I knit my brow,
Look four, and hum a Tune, as you may now.


POPE fays, this Epiftle is written to the fame Lady as the preceding; that is, Martha Blount. From the manufcript letters, however, which I have had an opportunity of confulting, it appears this must have been addreffed to the elder fifter, who was more handsome, and more fenfible than Martha. She was the first object of Pope's attachment; but not meeting with fo much encouragement, he transferred his attentions to her fifter.

The affumed name of Teresa was Zephalinda, under which she correfponded, for many years, with a Mr. More, under the feigned name of Alexis. Martha was called Parthenia.





HE Baffet-Table spread, the Tallier come;
Why stays SMILINDA in the Dreffing-Room?
Rife, penfive Nymph, the Tallier waits for you;


Ah, Madam, fince my SHARPER is untrue,
I joyless make my once ador'd Alpeu.

I saw him ftand behind OMBRELIA'S Chair,
And whisper with that foft, deluding air,
And those feign'd fighs which cheat the list'ning Fair.


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• Mr. Dallaway has given good reasons for supposing that the Town Eclogues were written entirely by Lady Mary Wortley Montagu. Moft probably Lady M. has the greateft claim to them; but as fome corrected copies were found among Gay's and Pope's papers, and have been received into Pope's works, I have ventured to retain them; but, as far as their literary merit is concerned, it very little matters to whom they exclufively belong.


VER. 1. The Baffet-Table Spread,] There were fix Town Eclogues; two written by Mr. Pope, and the reft by Lady Wortley Montagu, whofe fine genius and abilities are well known; and from whose hand I am glad to present the reader with the following Sonnet, preferved by Algarotti, in the feventh volume of his Works:



Is this the cause of your Romantic strains?
A mightier grief my heavy heart fuftains.
As You by Love, so I by Fortune cross't;
One, one bad Deal, Three Septlevas have loft.


Is that the grief, which you compare with mine? With ease, the smiles of Fortune I refign: Would all my gold in one bad Deal were gone; Were lovely SHARPER mine, and mine alone.

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A Lover loft, is but a common care : And prudent Nymphs against that change prepare: The KNAVE OF CLUBS thrice loft! Oh! who could


This fatal Stroke, this unforeseen Distress?



"Thou Silver Deity of fecret night,

Direct my footfteps through the Woodland fhade;
Thou confcious witnefs of unknown delight,

The Lover's Guardian, and the Muse's aid.
By thy pale beams I folitary rove,

To thee my tender grief confide;
Serenely fweet you gild the filent grove,
My friend, my goddess, and my guide.
Ev'n thee, fair Queen, from thy amazing height,
The charms of young Endimion drew,
Veil'd in the mantle of concealing night,

With all thy greatness, and thy coldness too!"





See BETTY LOVET! very à propos,
She all the cares of Love and Play does know:
Dear BETTY fhall th' important point decide;
BETTY, who oft the pain of each has try'd;
Impartial, fhe fhall fay who fuffers most,
By Cards' Ill Ufage, or by Lovers loft.


Tell, tell your griefs; attentive will I stay, Tho' Time is precious, and I want some Tea.



Behold this Equipage, by Mathers wrought, With Fifty Guineas (a great Pen'worth) bought. 30 See on the Tooth-pick, Mars and Cupid strive; And both the struggling figures feem alive. Upon the bottom fhines the Queen's bright Face; A Myrtle Foliage round the Thimble-Cafe. Jove, Jove himself, does on the fciffars fhine; 35 The Metal, and the Workmanship, divine!

love, When rival beauties for the Present strove;


This Snuff-Box,-once the pledge of SHARPER'S

At Corticelli's he the Ruffle won;

Then first his Paffion was in public shown:
HAZARDIA blush'd, and turn'd her Head aside,
A Rival's envy (all in vain) to hide.
This Snuff-Box-on the Hinge fee Brilliants shine :
This Snuff-Box will I ftake; the Prize is mine.


Alas! far leffer loffes than I bear,
Have made a Soldier figh, a Lover swear,
And Oh! what makes the disappointment hard,
'Twas my own Lord that drew the fatal Card,
In complaifance, I took the Queen he gave;
Tho' my own fecret wifh was for the Knave.
The Knave won Sonica, which I had chofe;
And the next Pull, my Septleva I lofe.





But ah! what aggravates the killing fmart, The cruel thought, that ftabs me to the heart; This curs'd OMBRELIA, this undoing Fair, By whofe vile arts this heavy grief I bear; She, at whofe name I fhed thefe fpiteful tears, She owes to me the very charms fhe wears. An aukward Thing, when firft fhe came to Town; Her shape unfashion'd, and her Face unknown: She was my friend; I taught her first to spread Upon her fallow cheeks enliv'ning red;




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