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Burnish and make a gaudy Show,
All this we grantwby then look yonder,
FARTHER we are by Pliny told,
So, have I seen a batter'd Beau,
A dismal Shedding of her Locks,
Then I'll appeal to each By-ftander,
On Mrs. BIDDY FLOYD.
Written in the Year 1707.
HEN Cupid did his Grandsire Jove intreat,
To form some Beauty by a new Receipt ; Jove sent and found far in a Country Scene, Truth, Innocence, Good-Nature, Look serene ; From which Ingredients, first the dextrous Boy Pick'd the Demure, the Aukward, and the Coy! The Graces from the Court did next provide Breeding, and Wit, and Air, and decent Pride. These Venus cleans'd from ev'ry fpurious Grain Of Nice, Coquet, Affected, Pert, and Vain. Hove mix'd
all, and his best Clay employ'd ;.'? Then call'd the happy Composition FLOYD.
To the Hon. Mrs. Finch, (fince Countess of
WINCHELSEA,) under the Name of Ar
Written in the Year 1707.
Up to the Northern Tropick came,
Attending on a Royal Dame.
The God laid down his feeble Rays ;
Then lighted from his glitt'ring Coach ; But fenc'd his Head with his own Bays,
Before he durft the Nymph approach.
Under those facred Leaves, secure
From common Lightning of the Skies, He fondly thought he might endure
The Flashes of Ardelia's Eyes.
The Nymph, who oft had read in Books,
Of that bright God, whom Bards invoke, Soon knew Apollo by his Looks,
And guess'd his Business, 'ere he spoke.
He in the old Celestial Cant,
Confess’d his Flame, and swore by Styx, Whate’er she would desire, to grant;
But wife Ardelia knew his Tricks.
Ovid had warn'd her to beware
Of stroling Gods, whose usual Trade is, Under Pretence of taking Air,
To pick up Sublunary Ladies.
Howe'er, she gave no flat Denial,
As having Malice in her Heart; And was resoly'd upon a Tryal,
To cheat the God in his own Art.
Hear my Request, the Virgin said ;
Let which I please of all the Nine Attend whene'er I want their Aid,
Obey my Call, and only mine.
By Vow oblig'd, by Paffion led,
The God could not refuse her Prayer: He wav'd his Wreath thrice o'er her Head,
Thrice mutter'd something to the Air.
And now he thought to seize his Due,
But she the Charm already try'd, Thalia heard the Call, and few
To wait at bright Ardelia's Side.
On On Sight of this celestial Prude,
Apollo thought it vain to stay, Nor in her Presence durft be rude;
But made his Leg, and went away.
He hop'd to find some lucky Hour,
When on their Queen the Muses wait ; But Pallas owns Ardelia's Power
For Vows divine are kept by Fate.
Then full of Rage Apollo spoke;
Deceitful Nymph! I see thy Art ; And though I can't my
Gift revoke, I'll disappoint its nobler Part.
Let stubborn Pride poffefs thee long,
And be thou negligent of Fame ; With ev'ry Muse to grace thy Song,
May'st thou despise a Poet's Name.
Of modeft Poets be thou first,
To filent Shades repeat thy Verse, Till Fame and Eccbo almost burst,
Yet hardly dare one Line rehearse.
And laft, my Vengeance to compleat ;
May you descend to take Renown, Prevail'd on by the Thing you hate,
A Whig, and one, that wears a Gown.