His tender Paffion he effay'd to prove, In all the Rhet'rick of defpairing Love. And Thoughts of Vengeance Thoughts of Love [ controul; But But yet, with artful Patience he suppress'd • Thave burn'd the Temple where thou wer't ador'd? To Men, if you intend to manifeft • Yourself Divine, then grant me my Request.. . Far nobler 'tis to fpare, than to destroy, • Or Jove wou'd all his thund'ring Powers employ. • He'd prove his Anger, by his vengeant Rod, • But while he fpares, he proves himself a God. He faid: Inftead of Anfwer, fhe look'd down, 2 His Rage at that, like Rivers under Ground, This Breaft did once with facred Paffion burn, * But Love neglected will to Hatred turn: . And 'And in Proportion to that former Love, Know then, Eliza, (for you are no more, Whom I've ador'd, as facred, heretofore) "Thou took'ft thy Godhead from this bended Knee, ''Twas I that gave thee thy Divinity; Then I that gave it, fure can re-affume ; Yes, now I ftrip thee of that borrow'd Plume. 'Henceforth, Eliza, thou'rt no Deity, • Nor I henceforth thy abject Votary. • All those were but imaginary Charms. Tho' late, I'm freed at laft from Love's fweet Chain, • Howe'er Howe'er-henceforth may't thou without Moleft • Cherish Grimalkin in thy Maiden Breast. • O'er Hills of Rats, o'er Heaps of flaughter'd Mice, * Returning here, triumphing in her Prize; 1. • Here let her find an easy safe Retreat From all thofe Cares that even Conqu'rors meets For Cares they have, and many must he fear, T ⚫ Who over many Slaves is Conqueror. • But one thing more, and then my last Farewell, A thing of great Importance let me tell, I wok ⚫ Who hugg but Cats on Earth, lead Apes in Hell. L To the Reverend Dr. SNAP E. ET the proud Victor, flufh'd with Conqueft tell What Numbers by his mighty Prowess fell; By you anenvy'd, boaft the Warrior's Charms, T His tatter'd Enfigns, and his captive Arms; bla Whilft you, great Sir, far nobler Vi&'ries gain, Thus, what his Sword cou'd not, your Voice disarms, But he comes nearest you who beft can praise. Sauli perturbatus Animus Mufica lenitur: Or the Power of Mufick. C OME come harmonious Sounds, come Sa[cred Lyre, With fofteft Thoughts and fofteft Words infpire My feeble Mufe; affift ye Heav'nly Throng, And raise with loftier Strains an humble Song. What |