LET Folly smile, to view the names
Of thee and me in friendship twined;

Yet Virtue will have greater claims

To love, than rank with vice combined.

2.

And though unequal is thy fate,

Since title deck'd my higher birth!

Yet envy not this gaudy state;

Thine is the pride of modest worth.

3.

Our souls at least congenial meet,

Nor can thy lot my rank disgrace;

Our intercourse is not less sweet,

Since worth of rank supplies the place.

November, 1802.

REPLY TO SOME VERSES OF J. M. B. PIGOT, ESQ., ON THE CRUELTY OF HIS MISTRESS *.

1.

WHY, Pigot, complain

Of this damsel's disdain,

Why thus in despair do you fret?
For months you may try,

Yet, believe me, a sigh

Will never obtain a coquette.

2.

Would you teach her to love?
For a time seem to rove;

At first she may frown in a pet;
But leave her awhile,

She shortly will smile,

And then you may kiss your coquette.

3.

For such are the airs

Of these fanciful fairs,

They think all our homage a debt;
Yet a partial neglect
Soon takes an effect,

And humbles the proudest coquette.

* Printed in the private volume only. -ED.

4.

Dissemble your pain,
And lengthen your chain,
And seem her hauteur to regret;
If again you shall sigh,
She no more will deny

That yours is the rosy coquette.

5.

If still, from false pride,
Your pangs she deride,

This whimsical virgin forget;
Some other admire,

Who will melt with your fire,

And laugh at the little coquette.

For me, I adore

6.

Some twenty or more,

And love them most dearly; but yet,

Though my heart they enthral,
I'd abandon them all,

Did they act like your blooming coquette.

No longer repine,

7.

Adopt this design,

And break through her slight-woven net;

Away with despair,

No longer forbear,

To fly from the captious coquette.

8.

Then quit her, my friend!
Your bosom defend,

Ere quite with her snares you're beset:
Lest your deep-wounded heart,
When incensed by the smart,
Should lead you to curse the coquette.

October 27th, 1806.

TO THE SIGHING STREPHON*.

1.

Your pardon, my friend,
If my rhymes did offend,
Your pardon, a thousand times o'er;
From friendship I strove
Your pangs to remove,

But I swear I will do so no more.

2.

Since your beautiful maid
Your flame has repaid,

No more I your folly regret;
She's now most divine,
And I bow at the shrine
Of this quickly reformed coquette.

'* These stanzas were only printed in the private volume.-ED.

3.

Yet still, I must own,

I should never have known

From your verses, what else she deserved; Your pain seem'd so great,

I pitied your fate,

As your fair was so devilish reserved.

4.

Since the balm-breathing kiss
Of this magical miss

Can such wonderful transports produce;
Since the "world you forget,
When your lips once have met,"

My counsel will get but abuse.

5.

You say, when "I rove,
I know nothing of love;"

Tis true, I am given to range:
If I rightly remember,

I've loved a good number,

Yet there's pleasure, at least, in a change.

6.

I will not advance,
By the rules of romance,
To humour a whimsical fair;

Though a smile may delight,
Yet a frown won't affright,
Or drive me to dreadful despair.