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And often, as they stood on either side,

As when, a conduit broke, the streams shoot bigha To catch by turns the flitting voice, they cry'd, Starting in sudden fountains through the sky,

Why, envious Wall, ah! why dost thou destroy So spouts the living stream, and sprinkled o'er The lovers' hopes, and why forbid the joy?

The tree's fair berries with a crimson gore, How should we bless thee, would'st thou yield to While, sapp'd in purple floods, the conscious root charms,

Transmits the stain of murder to the fruit. And, opening, let us rush into each other's arms! The fair, who fear'd to disappoint her love, At least, if that's too much, afford a space

Yet trembling with the fright, forsook the grove, To meeting lips, nor shall we slight the grace; And sought the youth, impatient to relate We owe to thee this freedom to complain,

Her new adventure, and th' avoided fate. And breathe our vows, but vows, alas! in vain." She saw the vary'd tree had lost its white, Thus having said, when evening call’d to rest, And doubting stood if that could be the right, The faithful pair on either side imprest

Nor doubted long; for now her eyes beheld An intercepted kiss, then bade good-night; A dying person spurn the sanguine field. But when th’ ensuing dawn had put to flight Aghast she started back, and shook with pain, The stars; and Phæbus, rising from his bed, As rising breezes curl the trembling main. Drank up the dews, and dry'd the Rowery mead, She gaz'd awhile entranc'd; but when she found Again they meet, in sighs again disclose

It was her lover weltering on the ground, Their grief, and last this bold design propose; She beat her lovely breast, and tore her hair, That, in the dead of night, both would deceive Clasp'd the dear corpse, and, frantic in despair, Their keepers, and the house and city leave; Kiss'd his cold face, supply'd a briny food And lest, escap'd, without the walls they stray To the wide wound, and ningled tears with blood. In pathless fields, and wander from the way,

Say, Pyramus, oh say, what chance severe At Ninus' tomb their meeting they agree,

Has snatch'd thee from my arms?. Beneath the shady covert of the tree;

'Tis thy own Thisbe calls, look up and hear!” The tree, well-known, near a cool fountain grew, At Thisbe's name he lifts bis dying eyes, And bore fair mulberries of snowy hue.

And, having seen her, clos'd them up, and dics. The prospect pleas'd; the Sun's unwelcome light But when she knew the bloody veil, and spy'd (That slowly seem'd to move, and slack his flight) The ivory scabbard empty by his side, Sunk in the seas; from the same seas arose the sable “ Ab, wretched youth,” said she, “by love betray'a! night;

Thy hapless hand guided the fatal blade. When, stealing through the dark, the crafty fair Weak as I am, I boast as strong a love; Unlock'd the door, and gain'd the open air;

For such a deed, this hand as bold shall prove. Love gave her courage; unperceiv'd she went, I'll follow thee to death; the world shall call Wrapp'd in a veil, and reach'd the monument. Thisbe the cause, and partner of thy fall; Then sat beneath th’appointed tree alone;

And er’n in death, which could alone disjoin But, by the glimmering of the shining moon, Our persons, yet in death thou shalt be mine. She sat not long, before from far she spy'u

But hear, in both our names, this dying prayer, A lioness approach the fountain-side ;

Ye wretched parents of a wretched pair! Fierce was her glare, her foamy paws in blood Let in one urn our ashes be confin'd, Of slaughter'd bulls besmear'd, and foul with food; Wbom mutual love and the same fate have join'd. For, reeking from the prey, the savage came, And thou, fair Tree, beneath whose friendly shade To drown her thirst within the neighbouring stream. One lifeless lover is already laid, Affrighted Thisbe, trembling at the sight,

And soon shall cover two; for ever wear Fled to a darksome den, but in her flight

Death's sable hue', and purple berries bear!” Her veil dropp'd off behind. Deep of the flood She said, and plunges in her breast the sword, The monster drank, and, satiate, to the wood Yet warm, and reeking from its slaughter'd lord. Returning, found the garment as it lay,

Relenting Heaven allows her last request,
And, torn with bloody feet, dispers'd it in her way. And pity touch'd their mournful parents breast
Related Pyramus arriv'd, and found

The fruit, when ripe, a purple jye retains;
The mark of savage feet along the sandy ground: And in one urn are plac'd their dear remains.
All pale he turn'd; but soon as he beheld
The crimson'd vesture scatter'd o'er the field,
“ One night,” he cry'd, “two lovers shall destroy!
She worthy to have liv'd long years of joy,
But mine's the forfeit life; unhappy maid !

THE TRIUMPH OF LOVE. 'Twas I that slew thee, I th' appointinent made;

IN IMITATION OF OVID, AMORUM LIB. 1. ELEG. To places full of death thy innocence betray'd, And caine not first myself, hither haste,


me, some god, whence does this change arise ; Ye lions all, that roam this rocky waste !

Why gentle Sleep forsakes my weary eyes? Tear my devoted entrails, gnaw, divide,

Why, turning often, all the tedious night And gorge your famine in my open'd side!

In pain I lie, and watch the springing light?-But cowards call for death!”—Thus having spoke, What cruel demon haunts my tortur'd mind? The fatal garınent from the ground he took,

Sure, if 'twere Love, I should th’invader find; And bore it to the tree; ardent he kiss'd,

Unless disguis'd he lurks, the crafty boy, And bath'd in fouing tears the well-knownı vest: With silent arts ingenious to destroy. Now take a second stain," the lover said,

Alas! 'tis so'tis tix'd the secret dart; While from his side he snatch'd his sharpen'd blade, I feel the tyrant ravaging my heart. And drove it in his groin; then from the wound Then, shall I yield ? or th' infant flame oppose ! Withdrew the stcel, and, staggering, fell to ground: 1 yieid ! Resistance would increase my woes:

For struggling slaves a sharper doom sustain, Does th' embroider'd meads adorn;
Than such as stoop obedient to the chain.

Where the fawns and satyrs play lown thy power, almighty Love! I'm thine; In the merry month of May. With pinion'd hands behold me here resign!

Steal the blush of opening morn;. Let this submission then my life obtain:

Borrow Cynthia's silver white, Small praise 'twill ve, if thus unarm'd I'm slain. When she shines at noon of night, Go, join thy mother's doves; with myrtle braid thy Free from clouds to veil her light. hair;

Juno's bird his tail shall spread,
The god of war himself a chariot shall prepare;

Iris' bow its colour shed,
Then thou triumphant through the shouting throng All to deck this charming piece,
Shalt ride, and move with art the willing birds along; Far surpassing ancient Greece.
While captive youths and maids, in solemn state, First her graceful stature show,
Adorn the scene, and on thy triumph wait.

Not too tall, nor yet too low,
There 1, a later conquest of thy bow,

Fat she must not be, nor lean;
In chajns will follow too; and as I go,

Let her shape be straight and clean;
To pitying eyes the new-made wound will show. Small her waist, and thence increas'd,
Next, all that dare Love's sovereign power defy, Gently swells her rising breast.
In fetters bound, inglorious shall pass by:

Next in comely order trace
All shall subunit to thee Th’applauding crowd All the glories of her face.
Shall lift their hands, and sing thy praise aloud. Paint her neck of ivory,
Soft looks shall in thy equipage appear,

Smiling cheeks and forehead high,
With amorous Play, Mistake, and jealous Fear. Ruby lips, and sparkling eyes,
Be this thy guard, great Lore! be this thy train ; Whence resistless lightning flies.
Since these extend o'er men and gods thy reign; Foolish Muse! what hast thou done?
But robb'd of these, thy power is weak and vain. Scarce th' outlines are yet begun,
From Heaven thy mother shall thy pomp survey, Ere thy pencil's thrown aside!
And, smiling, scatter fragrant showers of roses in thy “ 'Tis no matter," Love reply'd;
Whilst thou, array'd in thy unrivall’d pride, (way, (Love's unlucky god stood by).
On golden wheels, all gold thyself, shalt ride: “ At one stroke behold how I

Thy spreading wings shall richest diamonds wear, Will th' unfinish'd draught supply."
Aed gems shall sparkle in thy lovely hair.

Smiling then he took his dart,
Thus passing by, thy arm shall hurl around And drew her picture in my heart.
Ten thousand fires, ten thousand hearts shall wound.
This is thy practice, Love, and this thy gain;
From this thou canst not, if thou would'st, refrain:

Since er’n thy presence, with prolific heat,
Does reach the heart, and active flames create.

Let Phæbus his late happiness rehearse,
From conquer'd India, so the jovial god',

And grace Barn-Elms with never-dying verse! Drawn o'er the plains by harness'd tigers, rode.

Smooth was the Thames, his waters sleeping lay, Thto since, great Love, I take a willing place

Unwak'd by winds that o'er the surface play; Amidst thy spoils, the sacred show to grace;

When th' early god, arising from the east, O cease to wound, and let thy fatal store

Disclos'd the golden dawn, with blushes drest. Of piercing shafts be spent on me no more.

First in the stream his own bright form he sces, No more, too powerful in my charmer's eyes,

But brighter forins shine through the neighbouring

trees. Torment a slave, that for her beauty dies; O look in smiles from thence, and I shall be

He speeds the rising day, and sheds his light 4 stare no longer, but a god, like thee.

Redoubled on the grove, to gain a nearer sight.
Not with more speed his Daphne he pursu'd,
Nor fair Leucothoe with such pleasure view'd;

Five dazzling nymphs in graceful pomp appear;

He thinks his Daphne and Leucothoe here, Cone, my Muse, a Venus draw;

Join'd with that heavenly three, who on mount Ide Not the same the Grecians saw,

Descending once the prize of beauty try'd. Be the fam'd Apelles wrought,

Ye verdant Elms, that towering grace this grove, Beauteous offspring of bis thought,

Be sacred still to Beauty and to Love! o fantastic goddess mine,

No thunder break, nor lightning glare between Hition far she does outshine.

Your twisted boughs, but such as then was seen, Queen of fancy! hither bring

The grateful Sun will every morning rise On the gaudy-feather's wing

Propitious here, saluting from the skies ultne beauties of the Spring,

Your lofty tops, indulg'd with sweetest air, Like the bee's industrious pains

And every spring your losses he'll repair;

Nor his own laurels more shall be his care
To collect his golden gains,
So from every power and plant
Gather first th' immortal paint.
Fetch me lilies, fetch me roses,
Daisies, violets, cowslip-posies,

Amaranthus, parrot-pride,

AND THE SICKNESS OP THE FORMER marbres, pinks, and what beside

As altar raise to Friendship’s holy flame, * Bacchus.

Toscrib'd with Phæbe's and Asteria's namel



Around it, mingled in a solemn band,

With open arms, Asteria shall receive Let Phæbe's lovers, and Asteria's stand,

The dearest pledge propitious Heaven can give. With fervent vows t'attend the sacrifice;

Fann'd by these winds, your friendship's generous While rich perfumes from melted gums arise,

fire To bribe for Phæbe's health the partial skies. Shall burn more bright, and to such heights aspire,

Forbid it, Love, that sickly blasts consume The wondering world shall think you from above
The flower of beauty in its tender bloom !

Come down to teach how happy angels love.
Shall she so soon to her own Heaven retire,
Who gave so oft, yet never felt thy fire?
Who late at splendid feasts so graceful shone,

By pleasing smiles and numerous conquests known;
Where, 'midst the brightest nymphs, she bore the Fame of Dorinda's conquest brought
From all from all but her Asteria's eyes. (prize The god of Love her charms to view;
Behold the maid, who then secure repellid

To wound th’unwary maid he thought,
The shafts of Love, by fainting sickness quella! But soon became her conquest too.
(As Beauty's goddess once a wound sustain'd,
Not froin her son, but from a mortal'st hand) He dropp'd, half drawn, his feeble bow,
Asteria too forgets her sprightly charms,

He look'd, he rav'd, and sighing pin'd;
And drooping lies within her Phæbe's arms.

And wish'd in vain he had been now, Thus in romantic histories we read

As painters falsely draw him, blind.
Of tournaments by some great prince decreed,

Disarm'd, he to his mother flies;
Where two companion-knights their lances wield
With matchless force, and win, from all, the field ; Who now will pay us sacrifice?

Help, Venus, help thy wretched son!
Till one, o'erheated in the course, retires,

For Love himself's, alas! undone.
And feels within his veins a fever's fires;
His grieving friend his laurels throws away, To Cupid now no lover's prayer
And mourns the dear-bought triumphs of the day. Shall be address'd in suppliant sighs;
So strict's the union of this tender pair,

My darts are gone, but oh! beware,
What Heaven decrees for one, they both must share. Fond mortals, of Dorinda's eyes.
Like meeting rivers, in one stream they now,
And no divided joys or sorrows know,
Not the bright twins', preferr'd in Heaven to shine,

Fair Leda's sons, in such a league could join.
One sonl, as fables tell, by turns supply'd

Around your couch whilst sighing lovers view That heavenly pair, by turns they liv’d and dy'd : Wit, beauty, goodness, suffering all in you; But these have sworn a matchless sympathy,

So mournful is the scene, 'tis hard to tell They'll live together, or together die.

Which face betrays the sick, or who is well. When Heaven did at Asteria's birth bestow They feel not their own pains, while yours they share, Those lavish charms, with which she wounds us so,

Worse tortur'd now, than lately by despair. To form her glorious mind, it did inspire

For bleeding veins a like relief is found, A double portion of th' ethereal fire,

When iron red-hot by burning stops the wound. That half might afterward be thence convey'd, Grant, Heaven,” they cry, "this moment our deTo animate that other lovely maid.

To see her well, though we the next expire.” [sire,
Thus native instinct does their hearts combine,
In knots too close for Fortune to untwine.
So India boasts a tree, that spreads around

Its amorousboughs,which, hending, reach theground, Ye swains, whom radiant Beauty moves,
Where taking root again, the branches raise
A second tree to meet its fond embrace;

Or Music's art with sounds divine,
Then side by side the friendly neighbours thrive,

Think how the rapturous charm improves, Fed by one sap, and in each other live.

Where two such gifts celestial join; Of Phoebe's health we need not send to know

Where Cupid's bow, and Phæbus' lyre, How Nature strives with her invading foe,

In the same powerful hand are found; What symptoms good or ill each day arise;

Where lovely eyes infame desire, We read those changes in Asteria's eyes.

While trembling notes are taught to wound,
Thus in some crystal fountain you may spy
The face of Heaven, and the reflected sky,

Inquire not who's the matchless fair,
See what black clouds arise, when tempests lower, That can this double death bestow :
And gathering mists portend a falling shower, If young Harmonia's strains you hear,
And when the Sun breaks out, with conquering ray Or view her eyes, too well you'll know.
To chase the darkness, and restore the day.

Such be thy fate, bright maid! from this decline
Arise renew'd thy charms, and doubly shiue !

And as that dawning planet was addrest
With offer'd incense by th' adoring Fast,

Cupid, survey thy shining train around
So we'll with songs thy glad recovery greet,

Of favourite nymphs, for conquest most renown'd; The Muse shall lay her presents at thy feet ;

The lovely warriors that in bright array
Thy power support, and propagate thy sway.

what beauteous general wilt thou choose, A Diomedes. Castor and Pollux, To lead the fair brigade against thy rebel foes?

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Behold the god advance in comely pride, Thus ancient legends would our faith abuse: Arm'd with his bow, his quiver by his side:

In vain--for were the bold tradition true, Inferior Cupids on their master wait;

While your harmonious touch that charm renews, He smiles well pleas'd, and waves his wings in state. Again the seraph would appear to you. His little hands imperial trophies bear,

O happy fair! in whom, with purest light, And laurel-wreaths to grace th' elected fair.

Virtue's united beams with beauty shine!
Hyde-Park the scene for the Review he nam'd, Should heavenly guests descend to bless our sight,
Hyde-Park for pleasure and for beauty fam’d, What form more lovely could they wear than
Where, oft from western skies the god of light

Sees new-arising suns, than his more bright;
Then sets in blushes, and conveys his fire
To distant lands, that more his beains require.

And now the charming candidates appear :
Behold Britannia's victor graces there,

Je mourrai de trop de plaisir,
Who vindicate their country's ancient claim

Si je la trouve favourable; To Lore's pre-eminence, and Beauty's fame.

Je mourrai de trop de desir, Some, who, at Anna's court, in honour rais'd,

Se je la trouve inexorable. Adorn birth-nights, by crowding nations prais'd;

Ainsi je ne sçaurois guerir Preserv'd in kneller's pictures ever young,

De la douleur qui me possede;
In strains immortal by the Muses sung.

Je suis assuré de perir
Around the ring th' illustrious rivals move,
And teach to Love himself the power of love,

Par le mal, ou par le remede.
Scarce, though a god, he can with safety gaze
On glory so profuse, such mingled rays;
Por Love had eyes on this important day, [away.
And Venus froin his forehead iook the blinding cloth I die with too transporting joy,
Here Mira pass'd, and fix'd his wondering view,

If she I love rewards my fire;
Her perfect shape distinguished praises drew;

If she's inexorably coy, Tall, beauteous, and majestic to the sight,

With too much passion I expire. She led the train, and sparkled in the light.

No way the Fates afford to shun There Stella claims the wreath, and pleads her

The cruel torment I endure;
By which each day some new adorer dies, [eyes, Since I am doond to be undone
Serena, by good-humour doubly fair,

By the disease, or by the cure.
With native sweetness charms, and smiling air.
While Flora's youthful years and looks display
'The bloom of ripening fruits, the innocence of May,
The opening sweets that months of pleasure bring,

The dawn of Love, and life's indulgent spring.

"Twere endless to describe the various darts, Painter, if thou canst safely gaze With which the fair are arm'd to conquer hearts, On all the wonders of that face; Whatever can the ravish'd soul inspire

If thou hast charms to guard a heart With tender thoughts, and animate desire,

Secure by secrets of thy art; All arts and virtues mingled in the train;

0! teach the mighty charm, that we And long the lovely rivals strove in vain, [plain. May gaze securely too, like thee. While Cupid, unresolv'd, still search'd around the Canst thou Love's brightest lightning draw, "0! could I find,” said Love, “ the phonix she, | Which none e'er yet unwounded saw? In whom at once the several charms agree; To what then wilt thou next aspire, That phenix she the laurel crown should have, Unless to imitate Jove's fire ? And Love himself with pride become her slave.” Which is a less adventurous pride,

He scarce had spoke, when see-Harmonia caine! Though 'twas for that Salmoneus dy'd. Chance brought her there, and not desire of fame; That beauteous, that victorious fair, Unknowing of the choice, till she be held

Whose chains so many lovers wear;
The god approach to crown her in the field.

Who with a look can arts infuse,
Th’ unwilling maid, with wondrous modesty, Create a Painter, or a Muse;
Disclaim'd her right, and put the laurel by: Whom crowds with awful rapture view;
Marm blushes on her tender cheeks arise,

She sits serene, and smiles on you!
And double softness beautify'd her eyes.

Your genius thus inspir'd will soar
At this, more charm’d, “The rather I bestow,” To wondrous heights unknown before,
Said Love, “these honours you in vain forego; And to her beauty you will own
Take then the wreath, which you, victorious fair, Your future skill and fix'd renon.
Have most deserv'd, yet least affect to wear." So when of old great Ammon's son,

Adorn'd with spoils in battle won,

In graceful picture chose to stand,

The work of fam'd Apelles' hand;

“Exert thy fire," the monarch said, PLAYING ON THE ORGAN.

“Now be thy boldest strokes display'd, When fam'a Cecilia on the organ play'd, To let admiring nations see

And fill'd with moving sounds the tuneful frame, Their dreaded victor drawn by thee; Drawn by the charm, to hear the sacred maid, To others thou may'st life impart,

From Heaven, 'tis said, a listening angel came. But I'll immortalize thy art."




Descending angels, in harmonious lays,
Taught the first happy pair their Maker's praise.

Such was the sacred art-We now deplore

The Muse's loss, since Eden is no more.

When Vice from hell rear'd up its hydra-head,

Th’affrighted maid, with chaste Astrea, fled, As wlien Camilla once, a warlike dame,

And sought protection in her native sky; In bloody battles won immortal fame,

In vain the heathen Nine her absence would supply. Forsook her female arts, and chose to bear

Yet to some few, whose dazzling virtues shone, The ponderous shield, and heave the massy spear, In ages past, her heavenly charms were known. Superior to her sex, so swift she flew

Hence learn'd the bard, in lofty strains to tell Arouud the field, and such vast numbers slew, How patient Virtue triumph'd over Hell; That friends and foes, alike surpris'd, behold And hence the chief, who led the chosen race The brave Virago desperately bold,

Through parting seas, deriv'd his songs of praise : And thought her Pallas in a human mould. She gave the rapturous ode, whose ardent lay Such is our wonder, matchless maid! to see Sings female force, and vanquish'd Sisera; The tragic laurel thus deserv'd by thee.

She tun'd to pious notes the psalmist's lyre, (fire!
Still greater praise is yours; Camilla shines And fillid Isaiah's breast with more than Pindar's
For ever bright in Virgil's sacred lines,
You in your own.
Nor need you to another's bounty owe,
For what yourself can on yourself bestow;

So monarchs in full health are wont to rear,
At their own charge, their future sepulchre.

Who thy perfections fully would commend,
Must think how others their vain hours misspend,

Wuue Venus in her snowy arms
In trilling visits, pride, impertinence,
Dress, dancing, and discourse devoid of sense;

The god of battles held,
To twirl a fan, to please some foolish beau,

And sooth'd him with her tender charms,

Victorious from the field;
And sing an empty song, the most they know ;
In body weak, more impotent of mind.

By chance she cast a lovely smile,
Thus some have represented woman-kind.

Propitious, down to Earth, But you, your sex's champion, are come forth

And view'd in Britain's happy isle To fight their quarrel, and assert their worth;

Great Gloucester's glorious birth. Our Salic law of wit you hare destroy'd,

“ Look, Mars," she said; “ look down, and see Establish'd female claim, and triumph'd o'er our

A child of royal race!
While we look on, and with repining eyes [pride. Let's crown the bright nativity
Bt hold you bearing off so rich a prize,

With every princely grace:
Spite of ill-nature, we are forc'd t'approve

Thy heavenly image let me bear, Such dazzling charms, and, spite of envy, lore. And shine a Mars below;

Nor is this all th' applause that is your due, Foun you his mind to warlike care,
You stand the first of stage-reformeis too;

I'll softer gifts bestow."
Novicious strains pollute your moral scene, [clean;
Chaste are your thoughts, and your expression | Thus at his birth two deities
Strains such as yours the strictest test will bear:

Their blessings did impart:
Sing boldly then, nor busy Censure fear,

And love way breath'd into his eyes, Your virgin voice offends no virgin ear.

And glory forni'd his heart. Proceeri in tragic numbers to disclose

His childhood makes of war a game; Strange turns of fate, and unexpected wocs.

Betimes his beauty charms Reward, and punish! awfully dispense

The fair; who burnd with equal filame Heaven's judgments, and declare a Providence;

For him, as he for arms. Nor let the comic Muse your labours share,

1699, 'lis meanness, after this, the sock to wear: Though that too merit praise, 'tis nobler toil Textort a tear, than to provoke a smile. What hand, that can design a history,

Woull copy low-land boors at Snic-a-Snee?

Accept this tribute, inadam, and excuse
The hasty raptures of a stranger Muse.

Iluten Fancy did Molinda's hand invite, 1698.

Without the help of colour, shade, or light,
To form in vellum, spotless as her mind,

The fairesi image of the feather'd kind;

Nature herself a strict attendance paid,

(harm'd with th'attaimnents of th'illustrious maid, 1x Nature's golden age, when new-born day Inspir'd her thought, and, smiling, said, “I'll see Array'd the skies, and Earth was green and gay; How well this fair-one's art can copy me.” When Gol, with pleasure, all his works survey'd,

So to her favourite Titian once she came, Al ringin innocence before him play'd;

To guide his puncil, and attest his fame, In that illustrious inorn, that lovely spring, With transport granting all that she could give, The Muse, by Heaven inspird, began to sing. And bid his works to wondering ages live.

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