CELIA AND HER LOOKING GLASS. Janet Little (later Richmond) Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T126549 Little, Janet, 1759-1813. The Poetical Works of Janet Little, the Scotch Milkmaid. Air Printed by John & Peter Wilson 1792 pp. [86]-90.

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CELIA AND HER LOOKING GLASS . AS Celia , who a coquette was , O'er fading charms lamented , She frown'd upon her looking-glass , And thus her spleen she vented . " Thou silly , stupid , worthless thing , Of all discretion empty , I o'er the window will thee fling , If any more you tempt me . Thou'rt incorrigible and bold , Unworthy my attention : What ! must I ever more be told , The thing I dread to mention ? A maiden old , kind heaven avert ; I hate the appellation . The blood runs chill about my heart , I'm choak'd with sore vexation . Last night when at the ball I danc'd , My air was counted charming ; My eyes gave pain where'er they glanc'd , Each gesture prov'd alarming . Philander saw , their pow'r confest , And with love tales did tease me ! I sigh'd , I frown'd , he was distress'd , But with my smiles seem'd easy . But Chloe mark'd , that new made toast , By other flirts surrounded , Poor Celia now her charms had lost , Which in last cent'ry wounded . A whisper then and laugh went round , Such scoffing I endured , Nor did Philander heed my frown , But by the jest was cured . An easy passage through the crowd I found , none did escort me ; No gallant youth my presence su'd , Nor flatter'd to support me . Now , Morpheus next I did address , For slumbers more delightful ; But in my dreams I found distress , With apes and spectres frightful . Then unto thee , thou base ingrate , I su'd for consolation , Who rudely now foretels my fate Without alleviation . Though I'm abandon'd on that score , Though fools and fops are changed , Of thy impertinence no more , Else sure I'll be revenged . " Its head the looking-glass did bow , With reverent low submission , And to its angry mistress now , Did utter this petition . " O madam , deign to hear my tale , And let my sorrows move ye ; My plain sincerity can't fail To shew how much I love you . Nor lap-dog , bird , or powder'd beau Was more by you regarded , Than I full fifteen years ago , Though basely now discarded . Each hour you paid me visits ten , My counsel well you trusted ; Without my approbation then No curls you e'er adjusted . An artless smile adorn'd your cheek , And grac'd each lovely feature , Which I observe now , once a-week , Distorted by ill nature . The pallid cheek and wrinkl'd brow Announce your charms declining ; And wont you take the vestal vow Without so much repining ? The truth , though in unwelcome strain , To you I must discover ; While youth or beauty sways the swain , You'll never find a lover . " Poor Celia now could bear no more , Her stars malignant cursed ; Her looking-glass cast on the floor , And into tears she bursted . She would have died , but Claudius came , Preventing all her fears ; He wed the pensive , weeping dame , And wip'd away her tears .