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Although I have left her, the truth I'll declare ;
My Chloe had dimples and smiles, I must own;
Her lilies and roses were just in their prime ;
They tell me, my love would in time have been cloy'd,
Let murders, and battles, and history prove
She too might have poison’d the joy of my life,
We shorten our days when with love we engage,
Then let my dear Chloe no longer complain ;
She tells me with claret she cannot agree,
Had she tax'd me with gaming, and bid me forbear, 'Tis a thousand to one I had lent her an ear :
* Honest Tom's title to this song is rather questionable. In one of his plays he has a song beginning,
• When I visit proud Celia just come from the glass,' which is so near the present, as to make one thing certain while it leaves it doubtful, i. e. either that the present copy was borrowed from Tom, or that Tom borrowed from it. [Ritson seems by this note to have pre-supposed that he had ascribed this song to D'Urfey.]
Had she found out my Sally, up three pair of stairs,
BY MR. HENRY CAREY.*
And a flask of old port, let me sit the night long ;
I envy no mortal, though ever so great,
Then dare to be generous, dauntless, and gay,
* [At p. 13, Ritson desires the reader to prefer the appellative Harry Carey to that of Mr. Henry: for what important reason be has not declared. The character given ef him by Sir John Hawkins, and cited in vol. i. p. 84, certainly raises him above the moral elevation of Tom D'Urfey.]
THE HAPPY LIFE.
BY THE REV. WILLIAM THOMPSON.
A Book, a friend, a song, a glass,
Thrice happy they who, careless, laid
Meanwhile the Muses wake the lyre,
Let sacred Venus with her heir,
There Peace shall spread her dove-like wing,
Begone-ambition, riches, toys,
Says Plato, why should man be vain,
Since bounteous heav'n has made him great ?
On those undeck’d with wealth or state ?
Or costly gems that deck the fair,
Give health, or ease the brow of care ?
The scepter'd king, the burden'd slave,
The humble, and the haughty die ;
In dust, without distinction, lie.
Who once the greatest titles bore;
And all their honours are no more.
So glides the meteor through the sky,
And spreads along a gilded train,
* An alteration of a poem, written hy the Rev. Mr. Matthew (husband of the celebrated Letitia) Pilkington, beginning,
• Why, Lycidas, should man be vain?"