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, must put off every
Thy only armour is thy nakedness;

dress:

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.

A TALE.

FROM public noife and factious strife,

From all the bufy ills of life,

Take me, my Celia, to thy breaft;
And lull my wearied foul to reft.
For ever, in this humble cell,

Let thee and I, my fair one, dwell;
None enter clfe, 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 croud,
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.
K 2

May

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'ft 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 the 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 constant paffion known
By more than woman yet has done.
Had I a wifh that did not bear

The ftamp and image of my dear;
I'd pierce my heart through every vein,
And die, to let it out again.

5

No:

No: Venus shall 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 pafs.
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 the, his abfence to bemoan,
The very moment he was gone,
Call'd Thyrfis from beneath the bed!
Where all this time he had been hid.

MORA L.

WHILE men have these ambitious fancies;

And wanton wenches read romances;

Our fex will-What? Out with it. Lye;
And theirs in equal strains 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 jest, and vows are wind.

ΑΝ ENGLISH

PADLOCK.

MISS Danaë, when fair and young,

(As Horace has divinely fung)

Could not be kept from Jove's embrace
By doors of fteel, 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 juftice' warrant;
Dauntlefs as death away he walks;
Breaks the doors open, fnaps the locks;
Searches the parlour, chamber, study;
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 the to no excefs incline?

Does the fly mufic, mirth, and wine?
Or have not gold and flattery power
To purchase one unguarded hour?

Your

Your care does further yet extend :
That spy is guarded by your friend.-
But has this friend nor eye nor heart?
May he not feel the cruel dart,
Which, foon or late, all mortals feel?
May he not, with too tender zcal,
Give the fair prisoner cause to see,
How much he wishes the were free?

May he not craftily infer

The rules of friendship too fevere,
Which chain him to a hated truft;
Which make him wretched, to be juft?
And may not fhe, this darling fhe,
Youthful and healthy, flesh and blood,
Eafy with him, ill us'd by thee,
Allow this logic to be good?
Sir, will your questions never end ?
I truft to neither spy nor friend.
In fhort, I keep her from the fight
Of every human face.-She 'll write.
From pen and paper fhe's debarr'd.—
Has fhe a bodkin and a card?

She'll prick her mind.-She will, you fay :
But how fhall fhe that mind convey?
I keep her in one room: I lock it :
The key (look here) is in this pocket.
The key-hole, is that left? Moft certain,
She 'll thruft her letter through-Sir Martin.
Dear angry friend, what must be done?
Is there no way -There is but one.