Sat. V. The Universal Passion. 11 ^Modern good-breeding carry to its height.

And Lady D-self will be polite.

Ye rising fair! Ye bloom of Britain 's Isle!When highborn Anna with a foften’d smileLeads on your train, and sparkles at your head,What seems most hard, is not to be well-bred.

Her bright example with success pursue,

And all, but adoration, is your due.

But adoration ? give me something more?

Crys Lyce t on the borders of threescore ;

Nought treads so silent as the foot of Time:

Hence we mistake our autumn for our prime;’Tis greatly wife to know, before we’re told,

The melancholy news that we grow old.Autumnal Lyce carrys in her faceMemento mori to each publick place.

I O