An EPISTLE to a LADY.

An EPISTLE to a LADY . By the Same . CLarinda , dearly lov'd , attend The counsels of a faithful friend ; Who with the warmest wishes fraught , Feels all , at least , that friendship ought . But since by ruling heav'n's design , Another's fate shall influence thine ; O ! may these lines for him prepare A bliss , which I wou'd die to share ! Man may for wealth or glory roam , But woman must be blest at home ; To this shou'd all her studies tend , This her great object and her end . Distaste unmingled pleasures bring , And use can blunt affliction's sting ; Hence perfect bliss no mortals know , And few are plung'd in utter woe ; While nature arm'd against despair , Gives pow'r to mend , or strength to bear ; And half the thought content may gain , Which spleen employs to purchase pain . Trace not the fair domestick plan , From what you wou'd , but what you can ! Nor , peevish , spurn the scanty score , Because you think you merit more ! Bliss ever differs in degree , Thy share alone is meant for thee ; And thou should'st think , however small , That share enough , for 'tis thy all : Vain scorn will aggravate distress , And only make that little less . Admit whatever trifles come , Units compose the largest sum : O ! tell them o'er , and say how vain Are those which form ambition's train : Which swell the monarch's gorgeous state , And bribe to ill the guilty great ! But thou more blest , more wise than these , Shalt build up happiness on ease . Hail sweet Content ! where joy serene Gilds the mild soul's unruffled scene : And with blith fancy's pencil wrought , Spreads the white web of flowing thought ; Shines lovely in the cheerful face , And cloaths each charm with native grace ; Effusion pure of bliss sincere , A vestment for a god to wear . Far other ornaments compose The garb that shrouds dissembled woes , Piec'd out with motley dies and sorts , Freaks , whimsies , festivals and sports ; The troubled mind's fantastick dress , Which madness titles happiness . While the gay wretch to revel bears The pale remains of sighs and tears ; And seeks in crowds , like her undone , What only can be found in one . But , chief , my gentle friend ! remove Far from thy couch seducing love ! O ! shun the false magician's art , Nor trust thy yet unguarded heart ! Charm'd by his spells fair honour flies , And thousand treach'rous phantoms rise Where guilt in beauty's ray beguiles , And ruin lurks in friendship's smiles . Lo ! where th' enchanted captive dreams Of warbling groves , and purling streams ; Of painted meads , of flowers that shed Their odours round her fragrant bed . Quick shifts the scene , the charm is lost , She wakes upon a desert coast ! No friendly hand to lend its aid , No guardian bow'r to spread its shade ; Expos'd to ev'ry chilling blast , She treads th' inhospitable waste ; And down the drear decline of life , Sinks a forlorn , dishonour'd wife . Neglect not thou the voice of Fame , But clear from crime , be free from blame ! Tho' all were innocence within , 'Tis guilt to wear the garb of sin . Virtue rejects the foul disguise : None merit praise who praise despise . Slight not , in supercilious strain , Long practis'd modes , as low or vain ! The world will vindicate their cause , And claim blind faith in custom's laws . Safer with multitudes to stray , Than tread alone a fairer way ; To mingle with the erring throng , Than boldly speak ten millions wrong . Beware of the relentless train Who forms adore , whom forms maintain ! Lest prudes demure , or coxcombs loud , Accuse thee to the partial crowd ; Foes who the laws of honour slight , A judge who measures guilt by spite . Behold the sage Aurelia stand , Disgrace and fame at her command ! As if heaven's delegate design'd , Sole arbiter of all her kind . Whether she try some favour'd piece , By rules devis'd in ancient Greece ; Or whether modern in her flight , She tells what Paris thinks polite . For much her talents to advance , She study'd Greece , and travell'd France . There learn'd the happy art to please , With all the charms of labour'd ease ; Thro' looks and nods with meaning fraught , To teach what she was never taught . By her each latent spring is seen , The workings foul of secret spleen ; The guilt that sculks in fair pretence , Or folly veil'd in specious sense . And much her righteous spirit grieves , When worthlessness the world deceives ; Whether the erring crowd commends Some patriot sway'd by private ends ; Or husband trust a faithless wife , Secure in ignorance from strife . Averse she brings their deeds to view , But justice claims the rig'rous due ; Humanely anxious to produce At least some possible excuse . O ne'er may virtue's dire disgrace Prepare a triumph for the base ! Mere forms the fool implicit sway , Which witlings with contempt survey , Blind folly no defect can see , Half wisdom views but one degree ; The wise remoter uses reach , Which judgment and experience teach . Whoever wou'd be pleas'd and please , Must do what others do with ease . Great precept undefin'd by rule , And only learn'd in custom's school ; To no peculiar form confin'd , It spreads thro' all the human kind ; Beauty and wit and worth supplies , Yet graceful in the good and wise . Rich with this gift and none beside , In fashion's stream how many glide ? Secure from ev'ry mental woe , From treach'rous friend or open foe ; From social sympathy that shares The publick loss or private cares ; Whether the barb'rous foe invade , Or merit pine in fortune's shade . Hence gentle Anna ever-gay , The same to-morrow as to-day , Save where perchance , when others weep , Her cheek the decent sorrow steep ; Save when perhaps a melting tale , O'er ev'ry tender breast prevail . The good , the bad , the great , the small , She likes , she loves , she honours all . And yet if sland'rous malice blame , Patient she yields a sister's fame . Alike if satire or if praise , She says whate'er the circle says ; Implicit does whate'er we do , Without one point or wish in view , Sure test of others , faithful glass Thro' which the various phantoms pass . Wide blank , unfeeling when alone , No care , no joy , no thought her own . Not thus succeeds the peerless dame , Who looks , and talks , and acts for fame ; Intent , so wide her cares extend , To make the universe her friend . Now with the gay in frolick shines , Now reasons deep with deep divines . With courtiers now extols the great , With patriots sighs o'er Britain's fate . Now breathes with zealots holy fires , Now melts in less refin'd desires . Doom'd to exceed in each degree , Too wise , too weak , too proud , too free , Too various for one single word , The high sublime of deep absurd . While ev'ry talent nature grants , Just serves to shew how much she wants . Altho' in — combine The virtues of our sex and thine : Her hand restrains the widow's tears , Her sense informs , and sooths and cheers ; Yet like an angel in disguise , She shines but to some favour'd eyes ; Nor is the distant herd allow'd To view the radiance thro' the cloud . But thine is ev'ry winning art , Thine is the friendly honest heart : And shou'd the gen'rous spirit flow , Beyond where prudence fears to go ; Such sallies are of nobler kind , Than virtues of a narrow mind .