[Epistle xix. -- From a girl on the stage to her friend, describing the good fortune of a young actress of their acquaintance.]
ESPISTLE XIX.
MERIT RESCUED FROM SHAME.
EUPHRONIUM TO THELXINOE.
SURE Fortune has smil'd on Melissa benign,
From the theatre freed, in abundance to shine:
While I, less in favour, am still doom'd to linger
My life on the stage, an unfortunate singer.
Melissa's beginning was poor past expression—
For when she first studied her scenic profession,
Her mother and she in a pitiful cot
Were starving together, and scarce worth a groat;
But soon she eclips'd all the girls of her age,
And her musical talents engag'd the whole stage.
At first people sneer'd— to distinguish their taste;
But they soon turn'd to praise — and they envy'd at last.
Her charms, and her dress, and her musical skill
Soon gain'd her rich generous lovers at will.
She was splendidly kept -- but was highly afraid
Lest breeding should spoil so important a trade.
(And frequently breeding, to tell you the truth
Is the worst of destroyers to beauty and youth.)
Among the old gossips, she learn'd to divine
Whene'er she conceived, by infallible sign:
So when the case happened, she told her old dame:
And to me for advice, as more knowing, they came.
I gave my opinion, and added a drug,
Which demolish'd her fears, expeditious and snug.
But with Charicles when she commenc'd an affair,
Whose wealth was immense, as his beauty was rare.
She chang'd her request to the rulers above,
And with fervency pray'd for a pledge of their love.
The gods of Olympus consentingly smil'd:
[And Lucina's assistance, &c. -- Both Juno and Diana were worshipped under this name, as goddesses presiding over child-birth.]
And Lucina's assistance delivered the child—
A child with all kinds of perfection endued.
And the father himself in a miniature view'd.
The mother with rapture beheld the young boy,
The little Eutychides, offspring of joy.
For children the more they are beautiful, move
With greater incitement their parents to love.
While Charicles, blest in an infant so dear,
Determin'd the fame of its mother to clear:
From her scenic employment he rescu'd the fair,
His hand, and his heart, and his riches to share:
And the lady forgot, while she gaz'd on her son,
Both the life she had led, and the risk she had run.
A visit I lately to Pythias paid,
(For she took a new name, when she left her old trade.)
She shew'd me her jewels, each ring, and each toy;
—And be sure I'd a sight of her sweet little boy:
His cheek I kiss'd sweetly -- but tenderly too;
For 'twas soft as the rose, it resembled in hue.—
The lady's so chang'd,— 'tis amazing to see't;
So modest her air, and her look so discreet:
Her hair braided neat, without art or design:
Her ornaments grave; neither flaunty nor fine.
When she walks, 'tis with caution and prudence they say,
And you'd think by her steps, she had ne'er gone astray.
So one of these days, when the time you can spare,
I advise you, The'xinoe, visit the fair:
But be very exact not Melissa to name her,
'Twould look like an insult intended to shame her:
The word, when I saw her, was at my tongue's end,
But they gave me a jog, and the hint sav'd your friend.