Classic Poem

D ORIS , a Nymph of riper Age,
Has every Grace and Art;
A wise Observer to engage,
Or wound a heedless Heart.
Of Native Blush, and Rosy Dye,
Time has her Cheek bereft;
Which makes the prudent Nymph supply,
With Paint, th' injurious Theft.
Her sparkling Eyes she still retains,
And Teeth in good Repair;
And her well-furnish'd Front disdains
To grace with borrow'd Hair.
Of Size, she is not short, nor tall,
And does to Fat incline
No more, than what the French wou'd call
Aimable Embonpoint.
Farther, her Person to disclose
I leave — — let it suffice,
She has few Faults, but what she knows,
And can with Skill disguise
She many Lovers has refus'd,
With many more comply'd;
Which, like her Clothes, when little us'd,
She always lays aside.
She's one, who looks with great Contempt
On each affected Creature,
Whose Nicety would seem exempt
From Appetites of Nature.
She thinks they want or Health or Sense,
Who want an Inclination;
And therefore never takes Offence
At him who pleads his Passion.
Whom she refuses, she treats still
With so much sweet Behaviour,
That her Refusal, through her Skill,
Looks almost like a Favour.
Since she this Softness can express,
To those whom she rejects,
She must be very fond, you'll guess,
Of such whom she affects.
But here our Doris far outgoes,
All that her Sex have done;
She no Regard for Custom knows,
Which Reason bids her shun.
By Reason , her own Reason 's meant,
Or if you please, her Will:
For when this last is Discontent,
The first is serv'd but ill.
Peculiar therefore is her Way;
Whether by Nature taught,
I shall not undertake to say,
Or by Experience bought.
But who o'er-night obtain'd her Grace,
She can next Day disown,
And stare upon the Strange man's Face,
As one she ne'er had known.
So well she can the Truth disguise,
Such artful Wonder frame,
The Lover or distrusts his Eyes,
Or thinks 'twas all a Dream.
Some, censure this as Lewd and Low,
Who are to Bounty blind;
For to forget what we bestow,
Bespeaks a noble Mind.
Doris , our Thanks nor asks, nor needs,
For all her Favours done:
From her Love flows, as Light proceeds
Spontaneous from the Sun.
On one or other, still her Fires
Display their Genial Force;
And she, like Sol , alone retires,
To shine elsewhere of Course.