Whofe fcenes have been, in ev'ry age,
The glories of the British stage;
Then fhe, to rigid truth confin'd,
Your name with lofty Shakespear join'd;
And speaking, as the God directed,
The praise fhe gave was unfufpected.
HENE'ER I wive, young Strephon cry'd,
Ye pow'rs that o'er the noose prefide!
Wit, beauty, wealth, and humour give,
Or, let me still a rover live :
But if all these no nymph can share,
And I'm predeftin'd to the fnare,
Let mine, ye pow'rs! be doubly fair.
Thus pray'd the fwain in heat o' blood,
Whilft Cupid at his elbow ftood;
And twitching him, faid, youth be wise,
Afk not impoffibilities:
A faultlefs make, a manag'd wi',
Humour and fortune never met:
But if a beauty you'd obtain,
Court fome bright Phillis o'the brain;
The dear idea long enjoy,
Clean is the blifs, and will not cloy.
But trust me, youth, for I'm fincere,
And know the ladies to a hair;
Howe'er fmall poets whine upon it,
In madrigal, and fong, and fonnet ;
Their beauty's but a SPELL to bring
A lover to th' inchanted ring,
Ere the fack poffet is digefted,
Or half of Hymen's taper wafted,
The winning air, the wanton trip,
The radiant eye, the velvet lip,
From which you fragrant kiffes ftole,
And feem to fuck her springing foul.-
'These, and the rest, you doted on,
Are naufeous or infipid grown;
The SPELL diffolves, the cloud is gone,
And Sachariffa turns to Joan.
ELEGY upon the Death of TIBULLUS. From OVID.
F Memnon's fate bewail'd with constant dew,
Does, with the day, his mother's grief renew;
If her fon's death mov'd tender Thetis' mind
To fwell with tears the waves, with fighs the wind;
If mighty Gods can mortals forrow know,
And be the humble partners of our woe;
Now loose your treffes, penfive elegy,
(Too well your office and your name agree)
Tibullus once the joy and pride of fame,
Lies now rich fuel on the trembling flame.
Sad Cupid now despairs of conqu❜ring hearts,
Throws by his empty quiver, breaks his darts:
Eafes his useless bows from idle strings;
Nor flies, but humbly creeps with flagging wings."
He wants, of which he robb'd fond lovers, reft;
And wounds with furious hands his penfive breast.
Those graceful curls which wantonly did flow,
The whiter rivals of the falling fnow,
Forget their beauty, and in difcord lie,
Drunk with the fountain from his melting eye.
Not more Æneas' lofs the boy did move;
Like paffions for them both, prove equal love.
T
Tibullus' death grieves the fair goddess more,
More fwells her eyes, than when the savage boar
Her beautiful, her lov'd Adonis tore.
Poets large fouls heav'n's nobleft ftamps do bear; (Poets, the watchful angels darling care)
Yet death (blind archer) that no diff'renee knows,
Without respect his roving arrows throws.
Nor Phoebus, nor the mufes queen, could give
Their fon, their own prerogative, to live.
Orpheus, the heir of both his parents skill,
Tam'd wond'ring beasts, nor death's more cruel will.
Linus' fad ftrings on the dumb lute do lie,
In filence forc'd to let their master die.
Homer (the fpring to whom we poets owe
Our little all, does in fweet numbers flow)
Remains immortal only in his fame,
His works alone furvive the envious flame.
In vain to Gods (if Gods there are) we pray,
And.needlefs victims prodigally pay,
Worship their fleeping deities: yet death
Scorns votaries, and stops the praying breath.
To hallow'd fhrines intruding fate will come,
And drag you from the altar to the tomb.
Go, frantick poet, with delufions fed,
Think laurels guard your confecrated head,
Now the sweet mafter of your art is dead.
What can we hope? fince that a narrow span
Can measure the remains of thee, great man.
The bold, rash flame that durft approach fo nigh,
And fee Tibullus, and not trembling die,
Durst seize on temples, and their Gods defy.
Fair Venus (fair ev'n in fuch forrows) stands,
Clofing her heavy eyes with trembling hands.
Anon, in vain, officiously fhe tries
To quench the flame with rivers from her eyes.
His mother weeping does his eye-lids close,
And on his urn tears, her laft gift, bestows.
His fifter too, with hair difhevell'd, bears
Part of her mother's nature, and her tears.
With those, two fair, two mournful rivals come,
And add a greater triumph to his tomb:
Both hug his urn, both his lov'd ashes kiss,
And both contend which reap'd the greater bliss.
Thus Delia spoke (when fighs no more could laft)
Renewing by remembrance pleasures paft;
"When youth with vigour did for joy combine,
"I was Tibullus' life, Tibullus mine:
“I entertain`d his hot, his first desire, "And kept alive, till-age, his active fire. To her then Nemefis (when groans gave leave) "As I alone was lov'd, alone I'll grieve: "Spare your vain tears, Tibullus' heart was mine, "About my neck his dying arms did twine; "Ifnatch'd his foul, which true to me did prove; "Age ended yours, death only ftopp'd my love. If any poor remains furvive the flames, Except thin fhadows, and more empty names; Free in Elyfium fhall Tibullus rove,
Nor fear a second death fhould cross his love.
There fhall Catullus, crown'd with bays, impart
To his far dearer friend his open heart.
There Gallus (if fame's hundred tongues all lye)
Shall, free from cenfure, no more rafhly die.
Such fhall our poet's blefs'd companions be,
And in their deaths, as in their lives, agree.
But thou, rich urn, obey my ftrict commands,
Guard thy great charge from facrilegious hands.
Thou, earth, Tibullus' afhes gently ufe,
And be as foft and eafy as his mufe.
English'd, from a Greek Idyllium,
Brule the
Right ftar! by Venus fix'd above,
To rule the happy realms o' love:
Who in the dewy rear of day,
Advancing thy diftinguish'd ray,
Doft other lights as far out-fhine,
As Cynthia's filver glories thine;
Known by fuperior beauty there,
As much as Pastorella here.
Exert, bright ftar, thy friendly light,
And guide me thro' the dusky night;
Defrauded of her beams, the moon
Shines dim and will be vanish'd foon.
I would not rob the shepherd's fold,
I feek no mifer's hoarded gold;
To find a nymph, I'm forc'd to ftray,
Who lately ftole my heart away.
Acatâ Holfatiâ, Ruffoque & Saxone fractis, Laudis & imperii jam fatis Arctos habet. Nil Patriæ optatum tanto fub Rege maneret, Ni deeffet vacuo Regia Sponfa toro.
Hanc Proceres, Populique petunt, fpes inde Gothorum Pendet, & Arctoi maxima Cura Poli.
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