9 o LOVE of FAME, Sat. V,

A tender smile, our sorrow’s only balm,

And, in life’s tempest, the fad Sailor’s calm.

How have I seen a gentle Nymph draw nigh,Peace in her air, perswasion in her eye;Victorious tenderness! it all o’ercame,

Husbands Iook’d mild, and savages grew tame.

The Sylvan race our active Nymphs pursue;Man is not all the game they have in view:

In woods, and fields their Glory they compleat,r . There Master Betty leaps a five-barr’d Gate ;y While fair Miss Charles to Toilets is confin’d,Nor rashly tempts the barbarous fun, and wind.Some Nymphs affect a more heroick breed,

And vault from hunters to the manas d Steed \Command his prancings with a martial air,

And Fobert has the forming of the fair.

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