TO A

PAINTER

UPON HIS

Drawing a LADY'S PICTURE.

O fair a Semblance of fo fair a Face,

What Hand but thine fuccessfully could trace?

To blended Colours fo much Beauty give,

As might a Lover's careful Eyes deceive.
On the dark Canvass fee Dalinda rife,
Whilst every Senfe confeffes its Surprize :
So beauteous Cynthia darts a radiant Light
Thro' gloomy Clouds, and gilds the fable Night.

STRE

SON G.

TREPHON the young, the lovelieft Swain,
That ever grac'd th' Arcadian Plain,

Fair Celia lov'd, nor lov'd in Vain.

Hymen

Hymen had warranted Delight; But ftill the Sun, with hated Light, Deferr'd the Pleasures of the Night.

To ease his Pain his Harp he ftrung, And charm'd the Wain of Night along, With his foft harmonious Song.

I.

Phxbus, Ruler of the Day, Swiftly drive the Hours away; In the Ocean drop the Light, And haften on the lazy Night,

11.

If e'er thou heard'st a Lover's Vow,

Propitious Phoebus hear me now;

Since thou, who art the Sun, haft known

Love's Fires burn fiercer than thine own,

III.

And when, by my Entreaties bow'd, Thou fet'ft in yonder Evening Cloud; In Thetis' Bofom thou may'ft lie,

And truft the Day to Celia's Eye.

IV.

To her bright Look thy Rays will be,

But what Aurora is to Thee:

Envy shall make Thee later rife,
And own the Conqueft of her Eyes.

With fuch foft Mufick did the Swain
Of Love's tormenting Cares complain,
That Phœbus hafted on the Night,
And in the Ocean dropt the Light:
To Celia's Arins then Strephon came,
And in them quencht as bright a Flame.

TH

FROM

BION, Imitated.

HE Nine fair Daughters of Immortal Jove
Refuse to patronize licentious Love;

And yet difdain not kindly to Inspire

The Man, whofe Breaft contains a purer Fire,
To foul, dishonour'd Luft, the Bashful Muse

Will ev'ry Pray'r and ev'ry Wish refuse.
Not fo to him, who in his Virgin Lays

The spotless Image of his Soul displays.
Then the chafte Goddess prefent to his View
Stands forth confeft, nor need he once purfue.

Unask'd

Unask'd fhe infpires him with the tuneful Art,
To footh the Mind, and captivate the Heart.
This I atteft, fince I have often known
The Truth of what, by me, the Mufes own.
For if fome Love lefs Noble were my Song,
The fault'ring Numbers dy'd upon my Tongue.
But, fair Amelia, when to Thee I fing,
Then all the Muses their Assistance bring;
With living Thoughts they animate each Line,
Pleas'd to Immortalize the bright Design,
Which bears the Luftre of a Name like thine,

то

ARISTUS

IN

Imitation of a SONNET of Milton.

1.

Thou, who in thine early Bloom of Youth,

(Tho' dark the Path, tho' rugged is the Way) Didft labour up the Hill of Heav'nly Truth, By Glory led, impatient of Delay ;

And

And now among those few most eminent art feen,
That tread the Turf of that Immortal Green,

II.

Ariftus! in whofe Breaft the Heav'nly Mufe,
(Such is her Care of Godlike Minds, like thine)
The Spirit of each Perfection did infuse

That graces Phœbus, and the tuneful Nine:
Thou wond'rous Youth, my artless Numbers guide,
And gently fan the Fire, which, but for thee, had dy'd.

III.

Ev'n as that Image, which Prometheus made,
When uninform'd with that Celestial Fire,
Upon the Ground a fenfelefs Lump was laid,
'Till Heat Divine did Motion first inspire.
So me, from this low Earth thou first didst raife,
And animate with thy inspiring Praise.

IV.

When shall we meet; and when wilt thou reftore
To me the Sunshine of a friendly Smile?

When shall we turn to Joy each fullen Hour,
And with fweet Talk our various Cares beguile ?
When fhall we, charm'd with thofe dear Joys we feel,
Let gray-ey'd Morn on Night unheeded steal?

V.

Then, fhall the burning Hearth with chearful Blaze
Diffolve the Froft, and chilling Winter's Cold:

The