The God of us verfe-men (you know, child) the Sun,
How after his journeys he sets up his rest :
If at morning o'er earth 'tis his fancy to run;
At night he declines on his Thetis's breast.
VI.
So when I am weary'd with wandering all day,
To thee my delight in the evening I come :
No matter what beauties I faw in my way;
They were but my visits, but thou art my home.
VII.
Then finish, dear Cloe, this paftoral war;
And let us like Horace and Lydia agree :
For thou art a girl as much brighter than her,
As he was a poet fublimer than me.
HE Trojan Swain had judg'd the great difpute, And Beauty's power obtain❜d the goiden fruit ; When Venus, loose in all her naked charms, Met Jove's great daughter clad in fhining arms. The wanton goddess view'd the warlike maid From head to foot, and tauntingly she said: Yield, fifter; rival, yield: naked, you fee, I vanquish guess how potent I should be, If to the field I came in armour dreft; Dreadful, like thine, my fhield, and terrible
The warrior goddess with difdain reply'd:
"Thy folly, child, is equal to thy pride:
Let a brave enemy for once advise,
And Venus (if 'tis poffible) be wife.
Thou, to be ftrong, muft put off every dress:
Thy only armour is thy nakedness ;
And more than once (or thou art much bely'd)
By Mars himself that armour has been try❜d.
TO A YOUNG GENTLEMAN IN LOVE.
FROM public noife and factious strife,
From all the busy ills of life,
Take me, my Celia, to thy breast;
And lull my wearied foul to rest.
For ever, in this humble cell,
Let thee and I, my fair one, dwell;
None enter elfe, but Love-and he
Shall bar the door, and keep the key.
To painted roofs and fhining fpires
(Uneafy feats of high defires)
Let the unthinking many crowd,
That dare be covetous and proud:
In golden bondage let them wait,
And barter happiness for state.
But oh! my Celia, when thy fwain
Defires to fee a court again,
S 3
May Heaven around this deftin'd head
The choiceft of its curfes fhed!
To fum up all the rage of fate
In the two things I dread and hate,
May't thou be false, and I be great!
Thus, on his Celia's panting breast,
Fond Celadon his foul expreft;
While with delight the lovely maid
Receiv'd the vows fhe thus repaid':
Hope of my age, joy of my youth,
Bleft miracle of love and truth;
All that could e'er be counted mine,
My love and life, long fince are thine ;
A real joy I never knew,
Till I believ'd thy paffion true:
A real grief I ne'er can find,
Till thou prov'ft perjur'd, or unkind.
Contempt, and poverty, and care,
All we abhor, and all we fear,
Bleft with thy prefence, I can bear.
Through waters and through flames I'll go,
Sufferer and folace of thy woe:
Trace me fome yet unheard-of way,
That I thy ardour may repay;
And make my conftant paffion known
By more than woman yet has done.
Had I a wifh that did not bear
The stamp and image of my dear;
I'd pierce my heart through every vein,
And die, to let it out again.
No: Venus fhall my witness be
(If Venus ever lov'd like me),
That for one hour I would not quit
My fhepherd's arms, and this retreat,
To be the Perfian Monarch's bride,
Partner of all his power and pride;
Or rule in regal state above,
Mother of Gods, and wife of Jove.
"O happy these of human race !”
But foon, alas! our pleasures pass.
He thank'd her on his bended knee ;
Then drank a quart of milk and tea ;
And, leaving her ador'd embrace,
Haften'd to court, to beg a place.
While fhe, his abfence to bemoan,
moment he was gone,
Call'd Thyrfis from beneath the bed!
Where all this time he had been hid.
HILE men have these ambitious fancies;
And wanton wenches read romances;
Our fex will-What? Out with it. Lye;
And theirs in equal ftrains reply.
The moral of the tale I fing
(A pofy for a wedding ring)
In this fhort verfe will be confin'd:
Love is a jeft, and vows are wind.
ENGLISH PADLOCK.
MISS Danae, when fair and young,
(As Horace has divinely fung)
Could not be kept from Jove's embrace
By doors of teel, and walls of brass.
The reafon of the thing is clear,
Would Jove the naked truth aver.
Cupid was with him of the party;
And fhew'd himself fincere and hearty;
For, give that whipfter but his errand,
He takes my lord chief justice' warrant;
Dauntlefs as death away he walks ;
Breaks the doors open, fnaps the locks;
Searches the parlour, chamber, ftudy;
Nor ftops till he has culprit's body.
Since this has been authentic truth,
By age deliver'd down to youth;
Tell us, miftaken husband, tell us,
Why fo myfterious, why fo jealous?
Does the restraint, the bolt, the bar,
Make us lefs curious, her lefs fair?
The fpy, which does this treasure keep,
Does the ne'er fay her prayers, nor fleep?
Does fhe to no excess incline?
Docs fhe fly mufic, mirth, and wine?
Or have not gold and flattery power
To purchase one unguarded hour?
|