1792. poetry. 147 



Could my weak pow'rs thy num'rous virtues trace. 

 By filial love each fear fliould be reprefs'd. 



The bluih of incapacity I'd rhace, 



And stand r<rc9ri/f;- of thy worth confefs'd. 



But since my niggard stars that gift refuse, 

 Concealment is the only boon I claim ; 



Obscure be still the unsuccefsful muse, 



Who cannot ra^se, but would not sink thy fame. 



1 Oh I of my life at once the source and joy ! 



If e'er thy eyes these feeble lines survey, 

 Let not their folly, their intent destroy, 

 Accept the tribute but forget the lay. 



THE LIBERTINE REPULSED. 



Hf.nce, Belmou^, perfidious ! this instant retire, 



No further entreaties employ, 

 Nor meanly pretend any more to admire. 



What basely you wi<h to destroy. 



Say, youth, must I madly rufh forward on fhame. 



If a traitor but artfully sighs? 

 And eternally part with my honour and fame. 



For a compliment paid to my eyes ? 



If a flame all dishonest be vilely profcst. 



Thro' tendernefs must I incline. 

 And seek to indulge the repose of a breast, 



That would plant endiefs tortures in mine ! 



No, Belmour! — a pafsion I can't but despise. 



Shall never find way to my ears ; 

 Nor a man meet a glance of regard from these eyes. 



That would drench ihem for ever in tears. 



Can the lover who thinks, nay, who wiflics me base I 



Expect that I e'er fhould be kind ? 

 Or atone, with a paltry addrefs to my face. 



For the injury done to my mind ? 



Hence, Belmour, this instant ! and cease ev'ry dream. 

 Which your hope saw so fooliflily born ; 



Nor vainly imagii.e to gain my esteem. 

 By deserving my hatt and my scorn. 



