and lips blue with envy, or half bitten through from artifice or malice. The elegance of her perfon foon, however, attracted the attention of the philofopher, and fancying the mind must correfpond, through the medium of a friend he obtained an interview. This lady, who was fo well able to put on the mask, listened with attention to his discourse, and seemed eager to cultivate his acquaintance. Not infenfible of the conqueft fhe had made, fhe diverted her female friends with the tender fenfibility of the poor fool, her lover, as she used to ftyle him. This coquetry being managed with addrefs, was nicely calculated to operate on an eafy and unfufpecting mind. Imagine now the fenfibility of the philofopher, who had fingled out the fair by the kindest partiality, when affured she had all along regarded him with a fimilar emotion. His happiness became infeparable from her's. He soon, however, experienced all thofe teafing perplexities which the artifice of a cunning woman was able to contrive. The triumph of conqueft was her only aim. So capricious and evanefcent appeared the attachment of an inconfiderate and giddy mind. The impreffion on fuch, like thofe made on a stream by the gentlest breeze, exist but for a moment: far otherwife the attachment of the feeling, the fufceptible, and the penfive. How infinitely more durable the tender fenfibilities he indulged! He poffeffed, however, too much good VOL. IV.

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fenfe not to fee through her duplicity; and to discover that she was trifling with the fenfibilities of a heart, which thoufands would have foothed and cherished with joy; yet to tear from his bofom all at once its deareft object on earth, occafioned the most serious and inexpreffible concern. The ftruggle was indifpenfable, and competent to all his philofophy. It was reafon afferting her fupremacy over paffion, and heaven striving for the mastery over man. At this interval, the lady removed the mask, and married a wild fortunehunter, who foon brought her into contempt and wretchedness. Happy would it have been for our philofopher, could his wounded mind have been restored to its former health and tranquillity. But his heart was gone, and with it all relish for life. It was not henceforward in the power of medicine, variety, or expedient, to afford him the leaft interval of ferenity. His nights and his days were alike dreary and joylefs. The fcenes, which had been the witneffes of his happier hours, now became the conftant and folitary companions of his wretchednefs. At laft, overwhelmed with the monotony of the fame thoughts, the brain funk lethargic, and the philofopher was converted into the happier idiot, until death foon, fortunately, clofed the melancholy and degrading scene.

SECT.

SECT. X

STORY OF MONIMIA.

She flourish'd,

Grew sweet to fenfe, and lovely to the eye;

Till at last the cruel fpoiler came,

Cropt this fair rofe, and rifled all its sweetness,
Then threw it, like a loathfome weed, away.

OTWAY.

MONIMIA was the lovely and accomplished daughter of an aged and worthy country fquire. A young officer, a man of birth and fashion, who lived in the neighbourhood, took advantage of the unwary difpofition of this innocent girl, and afterwards cruelly deferted her.-She thus addreffes him:

SINCE language never can exprefs my pain,
How can I hope to move when I complain?
Yet fuch is woman's frenzy in diftress,
We love to plead, tho' hopeless of redrefs.
Perhaps, affecting ignorance, thou'lt fay,

From whence thefe lines? whofe meffage to 'convey?'

Mock not my grief with that feign'd cold demand,
Too well you know the hapless writer's hand :
But if you force me to avow my fhame,
Behold them prefac'd with MONIMIA's name.

Loft to the world, abandon'd and forlorn,
Expos'd to infamy, reproach, and scorn,
To joy and comfort loft, and all for you,
And loft, perhaps, to your remembrance too;
How hard my lot! what refuge can I try,
Weary of life, and yet afraid to die!
Of hope, the wretch's last resort, bereft,
By friends, by kindred, by my lover, left.
Oh! frai! dependance of confiding fools,
On lovers oaths, or friendship's facred rules!
Too late in modern hearts, alas! I find,
MONIMIA's fall'n, and thou too art unkind!
To these reflections, each flow-wearing day,
And each revolving night, a conftant prey,
Think what I fuffer, nor ungentle hear
What madness dictates in my fond despair;
Grudge not this fhort relief-too faft it flies!
Nor chide that weakness I myself despise.
For fure one moment is at least her due,
Who facrific'd her all of life for you.
Without a frown this farewell then receive,
For 'tis the laft my fatal love fhall give;
Nor this I would, if reafon could command,
But what reftriction reins a lover's hand?
Nor prudence, fhame, nor pride, nor int'reft sways,
The hand implicitly the heart obeys:

Too well this maxim has my conduct shown,
Too well that conduct to the world is known.

Oft have I writ, as often to the flame
Condemn'd the after-witnefs of my fhame;

Oft

Oft in my cooler, recollected thought,
Thy beauties and my fondnefs half forgot;
(How short those intervals for reafon's aid!)
Thus to myself in anguish have I faid:

'Thy vain remonftrance, foolish maid, give o'er; "Who act the wrong, can ne'er that wrong de

plore.'

Then fanguine hopes again delufive reign,
I form thee melting as I tell my pain.
If not of rock thy flinty heart is made,
Or tigers nurs'd thee in the defert shade,
This would at least thy cold compaffion prove,
That flender sustenance of greedy love:
Tho' no return my warmer wishes find,
Be to the wretch, tho' not the mistress, kind;
Nor whilft I court my melancholy ftate,

Forget 'twas love, and thee, that wrought my fate.

Without restraint, habituate to range

The paths of pleasure, can I bear the change?
Doom'd from the world unwilling to retire,
In bloom of life, and warm with young defire,
In lieu of roofs, with proper fplendor gay,
Condemn'd in diftant wilds to drag the day;
Where beafts of prey maintain their favage court,
Or human brutes (the worst of brutes!) resort.
Yes, yes, this change I could unfighing fee,
For none I mourn, but what I find in thee:
There centre all my woes; thy heart eftrang'd,
weep my lover, not my fortune, chang'd.

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