An ESSAY on HOPE. Mary Leapor 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. T127827 p. 413 K101776.000 Leapor, Mrs. (Mary), 1722-1746. Poems upon several occasions: By Mrs. Leapor of Brackley in Northamptonshire. London printed: and sold by J. Roberts 1748 pp. 60-65. 15,[5],282p. ; 8⁰.

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An ESSAY on HOPE . TO you who ne'er the willing Verse refuse , Thus sings an humble but a grateful Muse : Our Theme is Hope — but of a diff'rent kind , The Bane or Blessing of the subject Mind ; This dawning Joy that to the Soul was given , As a short Earnest of its future Heav'n : To blame is not the Purpose of my Song , But warn our Sisters not to place it wrong . Shun trifling Hope , that bids your Fancy roll , The constant Torment of a restless Soul : For two pale Handmaids are for ever near , Sick Disappointment and the secret Tear : 'Tis this that makes the restless Heart repine , Beneath the Treasures of an Indian Mine Much Fortune gives — Yet , Give us more , they cry , And some new Prospect lures the dazzl'd Eye : Like wanton Babes they reach at something more , And drop the Gewgaws which they held before . See the puff'd Tradesman strut before his Door , Whose Birth was humble and whose Fortune poor ; Yet you may see his roving Thoughts depend On some bold Venture or some wealthy Friend , Till the lost Bankrupt drops into the Jaw Of pale Discredit and voracious Law . The grave-fac'd Student better learn'd than fed With Store of Logick in his aking Head , Sees pleasing Pictures in his Bosom drawn , The Dean's soft Cushion and the Bishop's Lawn : He dines with Lords and takes the highest Place , And weds a Countess , Cousin to his Grace . But soon his Heart the lost Delusion mourns : And the proud Prelate to a Curate turns On some dark Dome with thirty Pounds per-ann , He sips his Liquors in a pewter Cann . Young Seizum , fated to distract the Law , Who talks of Men and Books he never saw , Now struts a Counsellor , a Serjeant now , While the quick Turns elate his scornful Brow . Behold the Judge in that commanding Frown : See then : just then he strok'd his Ermin'd Gown . Cecilia soft , whose pleasing Features shine Bright in their Wane , and beauteous in Decline , Still to her eyes recalls the scatter'd Darts , Still hopes the Conquest of a thousand Hearts . Care stalks around : Vexation hovers nigh ; Her Friends bewail her , and her Children cry : Her wounded Ears their hateful Whinings tire , Whose Fancy dwells upon a wealthy 'Squire : Wrap'd in soft Visions on her Couch she lies ; Knights , Peers , and Garters swim before her Eyes . She rides in triumph through her Husband's Fields , And hears the rattling of her Chariot Wheels , Till her charm'd Senses will contain no more ; Then flies the Vision through its Iv'ry Door , See Acamas with Time's sad Burden bow , Guilt in his Breast and Wrinkles on his Brow ; Yet points out Cloe for his charming Bride , And fain would tempt her to his frozen Side : At Chapel where soft Grace and Virtue calls , And pale Vice trembles at the sacred Walls ; Where Conscience warns the guilty Wretch to pray , And beg a Blessing on his closing Day . The Preacher reads : But Acamas the while Grins at his Cloe with a ghastly Smile . In their red Orbs his waiting Eye-balls roll , And Charming Cloe rushes on his Soul : But Death will teach the silver-bearded Fool Some other Lesson in his gloomy School . Blank Disappointment with its Train attends In Delia's Heart , if Delia's Heart depends On Silia's Tongue so aptly hung with Guile , On Cynthio's Friendship or on Clara's Smile : Such courtly Friends are like the show'ry Bow , Ting'd with false Lustre by Reflexion glow : Like its faint Rays they hardly last an Hour , Lost in a Cloud or melted in a Show'r . If trifling Hope has any room to plead , 'Tis that where Nature's simple Dictates lead : So the wet Hind , who travels o'er the Plain Through the cold Mire and afflicting Rain ; Tho' his low Roofs with trickling Show'rs run , May hope next Morn to see the chearful Sun : Or when keen Hunger at the ev'ning Tide Drives home the Shepherd to his rustick Bride , His honest Reason haply might not stray , Tho' he should dream of Dumpling all the way . See sad Aemilia doom'd by fatal Vows To the harsh Usage of a Tyrant Spouse , To see his Mistress in her Woes rejoice , Her Fortune wasted on his guilty Choice , To bear Reproaches doubled on her Ear , Yet only answer with a silent Tear . Tho' patient Wives must wait the Fate's good time ; Yet she , I think , may hope without a Crime . But the grand Hope that yields perpetual Joy , No trifles gave , no trifles can destroy ; With Mercy from the blest Abode it came , Its Birth Celestial and its End the same ; That bids our Days in one smooth Tenor roll , Its task to chear and harmonize the Soul . On smarting Want it pours a healing Balm , Makes Toil seem pleasant and Affliction calm .