SPOKEN AT EDINBURGH, BY MRS. BELLAMY, TO THE TRAGEDY OF ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA .

The flame our hero felt for his Egyptian
Is finely drawn; it glows in the description:
But modern love can ne'er maintain its station,
So many different gouts divide the nation.

The man of sense disdains the soft'ning passion;
The coxcomb is enamour'd of — the fashion;
The bon virant prefers the feast conviv'al;
And Phillis in a turtle finds a rival;
Besides the gentle race — the petit-maitres!
The set insensible of happy cretures;
So coy — so cold — that Beauty ne'er can warm 'em;
So nice, that nothing but themselves can charm 'em.

But hold — I run too fast, without reflection,
(Each gen'ral rule admits of some exception.)
Here 'tis allow'd imperial beauty governs,
And there the conquer'd sex adore their sov'reigns.

Let me — to wave this bagatelle — declare
The grateful homage of a heart sincere:
I feel your favours with refin'd delight,
And glory in my patrons of to-night.