Of _Leah Cousins_ next the Name appears, With Honours crown’d and blest with Length of Years, Save, that she liv’d to feel, in Life’s Decay, The Pleasure die, the Honours drop away: A Matron she, whom every Village-Wife, View’d as the Help and Guardian of her Life; Fathers and Sons indebted to her Aid, Respect to her and her Profession pay’d; Who in the House of Plenty largely fed, Yet took her Station at the Pauper’s Bed; Nor from that Duty could be brib’d again, While fear or Danger urg’d her to remain; In her Experience all her Friends relied, Heaven was her Help and Nature was her Guide. Thus _Leah_ liv’d; long trusted, much caress’d, Till a Town-Dame a youthful Farmer bless’d; A gay vain Bride, who would Example give, To that poor Village where she deign’d to live: Some few Months past, she sent in hour of Need, For Doctor _Glib_, who came with wondrous speed; Two days he waited, all his Art applied, To save the Mother when her Infant died;-- “’Twas well I came,” at last he deign’d to say; “’Twas wondrous well;”--and proudly rode away. The News ran round;--“How vast the Doctor’s pow’r! “He sav’d the Lady in the trying Hour; “Sav’d her from Death, when she was dead to Hope, “And her fond Husband had resign’d her up: “So all, like her, may evil Fate defy, “If Doctor _Glib_, with saving Hand, be nigh.” Fame (now his Friend), Fear, Novelty, and Whim, And Fashion, sent the varying Sex to Him: From this, Contention in the Village rose; And _these_, the Dame espous’d; the Doctor _those_: The wealthier Part, to Him and Science went; With Luck and _Leah_ the Poor remain’d content. The Matron sigh’d; for she was vex’d at heart, With so much Profit, so much Fame to part;-- “So long successful in my Art,” she cried, “And this proud Man, so young and so untried!” “Nay, but,” he said, “and dare you trust your Wives, “The Joy, the Pride, the Solace of your Lives, “To One who acts and knows no Reason why, “But trusts, poor Hag!, to Luck for an Ally?-- “Who, on Experience, can her Claims advance, “And own the Powers of Accident and Chance? “A whining Dame, who prays in Danger’s view, “(A Proof she knows not, what beside to do;) “What’s her Experience? In the Time that’s gone, “Blundering she wrought and still she blunders on:-- “And what is Nature? One who acts in aid “Of Gossips half asleep, and half afraid: “With such Allies I scorn my Fame to blend, “Skill is my Luck and Courage is my Friend: “No Slave to Nature, ’tis my chief delight, “To win my way and act in her despite:-- “Trust then my Art, that, in itself complete, “Needs no Assistance and fears no Defeat.” Warm’d by her well-spic’d Ale and aiding Pipe, The angry Matron grew for Contest ripe. “Can you,” she said, “ungrateful and unjust,