Obrazy na stronie
[blocks in formation]

smooth and clear the Fountain was

In which his Face Narcissus spy'd,
When gazing in that liquid Glass,

He for himself despair'd and dy’d:
Nor, Chloris, can you safer see
Your own Perfections here than he.


The Lark before the Mirror plays,

Which some deceitful Swain has set;


Pleas'd with her self she fondly stays

To die deluded in the Net:
- Love may such Frauds for you prepare,
Your self the Captive, and the Snare.

But, Chloris, whilst you there review

Those Graces op'ning in their Bloom,
Think how Disease and Age pursue,

Your riper Glories to consume:
Then sighing you will wish your Glass
Cou'd shew to Chloris what she was.


Let Pride no more give Nature Law,
But free the Youth


Power enslaves : Her Form, like yours, bright Cynthia saw

Reflected on the Chrystal Waves, Yet priz’d not all her Charms above The Pleasure of Endymion's Love.


V. No V.

No longer let your Glass fupply

Too just an Emblem of your Breast;
Where oft to my deluded Eye

Love's Image has appear'd imprest;
But play'd fo lightly on your Mind,
It left no lafting Print behind.


[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]


[Eyes? HY, lovely Babe, does Plumber seal your

See, fair Aurora blushes in the Skies! The Sun, which gave you Birth, in bright Array Begins his Course, and ushers in the Day.



Calmly Serene and Glorious to the View
He marches forth, and strives to look like


[Span, *Fair Beauty's Bud! when Time shall stretchthy Confirm thy Charms, and ripen thee to Man, How shall each Swain, each beauteous Nymph

[complain? For Love each Nymph, for Envy ev'ry Swain. What matchless Charms shall thy full Noon adorn, When so admir'd, so glorious is thy Morn? So glorious is thy Morn of Life begun, That all to thee with Admiration run, Turn Persians, and adore the rising Sun. So Fair thou art, that if great Cupid be A Child, as Poets say, sure thou art he. Fair Venus would mistake thee for her

own, Did not thy Eyes proclaim thee not her Son. . There all the Lightnings of thy Mother's fine, Their radiant Glory and their Sweetness join,

[thine. To dhew their fatal Pow'r; and all their Charms,in

« PoprzedniaDalej »