ANACREONTIC, in Imitation of HORACE; Ode 19.

Book 3.

RUITLESS, my Friend, you wreck your

FR

To tell of Charles or James's Reign;
Of Rebels Wars, of Fights, and Fears,
Of bufie Lives, of Noife, and Cares;

Yet filent do you feem to be

In all the Parts of Pleafantry,

Nor study who and who's together,

Nor where we Dance this Winter Weather;

Whether the Bedford, or the Vine

Excels in noble gen'rous Wine

Nor at whofe Houfe the Friendly Treat,

Endeavours to make Life a Sweet;

Nor at whofe Fires we merry chat,

And banish all Affairs of State.

(Brain

Come,

Come, come, my Friend, we'll ne'er repine,

Behold the Glafs replete with Wine:

Fill to the Rifing Moon, Hay,

To Midnight and the coming Day;

And 'till the Stars in Day are loft,

We'll Toaft and Drink, and Drink and Toaft,

To ev'ry Mufe a flowing Bowl,

Mufes and Wine inspire the Soul ;

While Mufick's Charms shall foftly move,

And fire our Souls to fing of Love.

Let Old Acaftor hear our Noife,

And envy us our pleafing Joys.

Thee, beauteous Cloe, fweetly warms,

And makes thee Mafter of her Charms,
While, me the Fair Fannelia fires,

And crowns with Love my ftrong Defires:
The Nymphs and Swains with Envy die,
Then who fo blefs'd as Thee and I?

f

The ARROW;

In Imitation of Mr. PRIOR'S
DOVE

I.

YOUNG CUPID tired out with Play,

And weary Search for VENUS DOVE,

Upon a Bank fupinely lay,

Near where ADONIS haunts the Grove.

II.

Sleep fudden clos'd his heavy Eyes,

His Bow and Arrow careless laid;

No Fears did to his Fancy rife

Of Ills impending o'er his Head.

III.

He dreamt (too tedious to relate)

Of num'rous Conquefts yet to come;

Of Prudes fubmitting to their Fate,

And Coquets ftruggling with their Doom.

IV.

Refresh'd he wak'd; thought what to do;
Refolv'd LAVINIA next he'd wound 5
For he had heard AMYNTOR fue,

Seen how the Scorner on him frown'd.

That Heart, fays he, I'll foon fubdue, ina
Proud Nymph, and quick the Youngster rofe:
But, oh! what Sorrow did enfue!yzedw 10.
What Pen can paint his weighty Woes!

VI.

My Bow and Arrow loft! Undone,

He cry'd, and Tears inceffant fell;

Then to his beauteous Mother run

His mighty Lofs and Grief to tell.

VII.

Loft! fays the Queen: more Roguery!

Thieves haunt our Houfe, infatiate;

But lately 'twas they ftole from me,

And now my CUPID fhares my Fate.

My

VIII.

My Lofs you found: This eas'd her Mind:

My Boy, fhe cries, I'll quickly fee;

Perhaps I now your Bow may find,

As then, my

Dove you found for me.

IX.

Long time she fought, but fought in vain,
Thro' all the Grove, 'twixt ev'ry Tree,
At length fhe 'fpy'd her Fav'rite Swain

Ranging with pleafing Liberty.

X.

She feiz'd ADONIS, fir'd with Joy,
And fearching of him very narrow,
Cried, I fhall find thy Bow, my Boy,

For, oh! I feel,

I feel the ARROW.

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Against