Upon a Company of bad Dancers to good
Mufick.

OW ill the Motion with the Mufick fuits!

HOW

So Orpheus fidled, and so danced the Brutes.

A N

Imitation of a French Author.

By another Hand

AN you count the Silver Lights

That deck the Skies, and chear the Nights:

Or the Leaves that ftrow the Vales,

When Groves are ftript by Winter Gales:
Or the Drops that in the Morn

Hang with tranfparent Pearl the Thorn.
Or Bridegroom's Joys, or Mifer's Cares,
Or Gamefter's Oaths, or Hermit's Pray'rs :
Or Envy's Pangs, or Love's Alarms,

Or Marlbrough's Acts, or -------n's Charms ?

A

A

Soliloquy out of Italian.

By the fame.

OU'D he whom my diffembled Rigour grieves,
But know what Torment to my Soul it gives;

He'd find how fondly I return his Flame,
And want my self the Pity he wou'd claim.
Immortal Gods! why has your Doom decreed
Two wounded Hearts with equal Pangs fhou'd bleed?
Since that great, Law, which your Tribunal guides,
Has join'd in Love whom Destiny divides;
Repent you Pow'rs the Injuries you cause,
Or change our Natures, or reform your Laws.
Unhappy Partner of my killing Pain,
Think what I feel the Moment you complain.
Each Sigh you utter wounds my tend'rest Part,
So much my Lips mif-represent my Heart.
When from your Eyes the falling Drops diftill,
My Vital Blood in every Tear you spill:
And all those mournful Agonies I hear,
Are but the Eccho's of my own Despair.

A

TRANSLATION

OF THE

STORY of CIP PUS

Returning to Rome to Triumph; taken Notice of by Valerius Maximus.

Out of the 15th Book of Ovid's Metamorphofis.

His Temples first he feels, and with furprize
His Touch confirms the Cenfure of his Eyes.
Strait to the Skies his Horned Front he rears,
And to the Gods directs thefe Pious Pray'rs.

If this Portent be profp'rous, O decree To Rome th'Eyent; if otherwise, to me. An Altar then of Turf he haftes to raise, Rich Gums in fragrant Exhalations blaze;

The

The panting Entrails crackle as they fry,
And boding Fumes pronounce a Mystery.
Soon as the Augur faw the Holy Fire,
And Victims with prefaging Signs expire,
To Cippus then he turns his Eyes with speed,
And views the Horny Honours of his Head;
Then cry'd, Hail Conqueror! thy Call obey,
Those Omens I behold prefage thy Sway.
Rome waits thy Nod, unwilling to be Free,
And owns thy Sov'reign Pow'r as Fate's Decree!

He faid and Cippus, ftarting at th' Event, Spoke in thefe Words his Pious Discontent..

Far hence, you Gods, this Execration send;
And the great Race of Romulus defend.
Better that I in Exile live abhorr'd,

Than e'er the Capitol should style me Lord.

This spoke, he hides with Leaves his Omen'd Head, Then Prays, the Senate next Convenes, and said,

If Augurs can foresee, a Wretch is come,
Defign'd by Destiny the Bane of Rome.
Two Horns he has if e'er within the Town,
Your Liberty and Latian Laws are gone.

Your

Your Gates he might have enter'd; but this Arm
Seiz'd the Ufurper, and with-held the harm.
Hafte, find the Monster out, and let him be
Condemn'd to all the Senate can decree ;
Or ty'd in Chains, or into Exile thrown ;
Or by the Tyrant's Death prevent your own.

The Crowd fuch Murmurs utter as they stand, As fwelling Surges breaking on the Strand: Or as when gath'ring Gales fweep o'er fome Grove, And their tall Heads the bending Cedars move. Each with Confufion gaz'd, and then began To feel his Fellow's Brows, and find the Man. Cippus then shakes his Garland off, and cries The Wretch you want I offer to your Eyes.

Thought, The Anxious Throng look'd down, and faď in All wish'd they had not found the Sign they fought: In hafte with Laurel Wreaths his Head they bind; Such Honour to fuch Virtue was affign'd.

Then thus the Senate,

Hear, O Cippus, hear;

So Godlike is thy Tutelary Care,

That fince in Rome thy felf forbids thy Stay,

For thy Abode thofe Acres we convey

The Plough-fhare can furround, the Labour of a Day.