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THE VANITY OF EXTERNAL ACCOMPLISHMENTS, by                    
First Line: Ye smarts and belles, whose airs and arts confess
Last Line: And my life vanish in a tuneful sigh.
Alternate Author Name(s): Darwall, Mrs. John
Subject(s): Aging; Facades; Vanity; Women; Appearances


YE smarts and belles, whose airs and arts confess
Th' important study of your lives is dress;
Who gaily a polite contempt display
For all the learned, the wise, or good can say;
Forgive an artless maid who boldly tries
To vindicate the notions you despise.
Who would not sigh for that enchanting air,
Which speaks Belinda fairest of the fair,
Which men of sense admire, and beaus adore,
Did one charm last when beauty blooms no more?
When those resistless eyes no longer shine,
And the fresh roses in those cheeks decline;
When age contracts those gay, enlivening airs,
And that fair forehead crowns with hoary hairs;
What then must fix the friend? or what sustain
The long-collected load of years and pain?
Will the light air, the practised smile avail,
When love and triumph with her face must fail?
For peace or pleasure can she hope, from skill
In dear detraction, and adored quadrille?
Why then is Delia by the world admired?
Her talk is trifling, and her tongue untired.
For sense or nonsense -- 'tis no matter which --
Her ruby lips give sanction to her speech.
Yet fluttering Delia would be counted wise;
But, should you ask where Delia's judgement lies,
You'll find her wisdom centred in her eyes.
But gentle Silvia loves the languid air;
Faint voice and dying smiles describe the fair.
The lucid orb cast upward seems to prove
The virgin meditates on things above;
Yet Silvia's life proves this a vain pretence,
And seeming thought but hides defect of sense:
She seeks with these soft languors to disarm
The guarded breast, and reinforce each charm.
From the same motive, though by different ways,
The bold Camilla seeks the palm of praise.
With manly stride Camilla spurns the ground,
Or on the prancing steed pursues the hound;
Through brakes, down precipices, lo! she speeds,
Dares the rough torrent, bounds along the meads:
For what? -- the gentle fair will blush to hear --
With her own hand to kill the trembling deer.
Satire on men superfluous would be:
What they approve by our own sex we see.
Since woman's happiness depends on man,
'Tis easy to conclude where first began
This group of follies, that o'erspread the earth:
From our wise Lords they first received their birth;
These our fond females, bent to please mankind,
Enlarged, exalted, softened and refined.
But who would waste their bloom, and not engage
One friend to soothe the wintry storms of age?
Let me, ye powers! inspired by Reason's laws,
Though coxcombs censure, gain my own applause;
In useful learning, as in years, advance;
Improve my mind and leave my form to chance:
Good sense and virtue gild the darkest scene,
And bloom as bright at sixty as sixteen.
Though Silvia's softness, Delia's sprightly grace,
Belinda's air, nor Arabella's face,
Conspire to make me lovely, health supplies
These cheeks with colour, and with strength these eyes:
These eyes, untaught to languish or to roll,
Convey instruction to th' inquiring soul.
O! Nature, never let thy bounty cease!
Still grant me health, and poetry, and peace.
Let me enjoy my visionary scene,
Stranger to envy, flattery, pride, or spleen;
So my last breath shall praise thee when I die,
And my life vanish in a tuneful sigh.





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