N a bank of flowers, in a fummer's day,
Inviting and undrest,

In her bloom of years, bright Celia lay,

With love and fleep oppreft:

When a youthful swain, with admiring eyes,
Wish'd he durft the fair maid furprize,

With a fa, la, la, &c.

But fear'd approaching spies.

As he gaz'd, a gentle breeze arofe,

That fann'd her robes. afide,

And the fleeping nymph did the charms difclofe,
Which waking the wou'd hide.

Then his breath grew fhort, and his pulse beat high,
He long'd to touch what he chanc'd to fpy,

With a fa, la, la, &c.

But durft not ftill draw nigh.

All amaz'd he ftood, with her beauties fir'd,

And bleft the courteous wind;

Then in whispers figh'd, and the gods defir'd,

That Celia might be kind.

When with hope grown bold, he advanc'd amain;
But fhe laugh'd loud in a dream, and again

With a fa, la, la, &c.

Repell'd the tim'rous swain.

Yet

Yet when once defire has inflam'd the foul,
All modeft doubts withdraw;

And the god of love does each fear controul,
That wou'd the lover awe.

Shall a prize like this, fays the vent'rous boy,
'Scape, and I not the means employ,
With a fa, la, la, &c.

To feize the proffer'd joy?

Here the glowing youth, to relieve his pain,

The flumbering maid caress'd,

And with trembling hands (O the fimple fwain!)
Her glowing bofom press'd:

When the virgin wak'd and affrighted flew,

Yet look'd, as wifhing he wou'd purfue,

With a fa, la, la, &c.

But Damon miss'd his cue.

Now, repenting that he had let her fly,

Himself he thus accus'd;

What a dull and ftupid blockhead was I, ́

That fuch a chance abus'd?

To my fhame 'twill now on the plains be faid,
Damon a virgin asleep betray'd,

With a fa, la, la, &c.

Yet let her go a maid.

R 3

The

T

On his LUTE.

HE line of Atreus will I fing;

To Cadmus will I tune the string::

But as from ftring to string I move,
My lute will only found of love.

The cords I change through every screw,

And model the whole lute anew.

Once more, in fong my voice I raise;
And, Hercules, thy toils I praife:
My lute does still my voice deny,
And in the tones of love reply.

Ye heroes, then, at once farewell,
Loves only eccho from my
fhell..

The

The fecond ODE. On WOMEN.

N

ATURE the bull with horns fupplies;

The horse with hoofs fhe fortifies;
The fleeting foot on hares bestows;
On lions teeth, two dreadful rows!
Grants fish to swim; and birds to fly;
And on their skill bids men rely.

Women alone defenceless live:
To women, what does nature give?
Beauty fhe gives, instead of darts;
Beauty, instead of shields, imparts:
Nor can the fword, nor fire oppose,
The fair, victorious where fhe goes.

The third ODE. On LOVE.

NE midnight, when the Bear did ftand,
A level with Buotes' hand:

And, with their labour fore oppreft,

The race of men were lain to rest:
Then to my doors, at unawares,

Came Love, and try'd to force

my

bars.

Who:

Who thus affails my doors, I cry'd? Who breaks my flumbers? Love reply'd; Open: a child is only here!

A little child!

you need not fear.

Through the moonless night I stray,

And drench'd in rain, have loft my way.

Mov'd to pity by his plight,
All in hafte my lamp I light,
And open: when a child I fee!
A little child, he seem'd to me;
Who bore a quiver, and a bow,
And wings did to his fhoulders grow..

Within the hearth I bid him ftand:
Then, chafe and cherish either hand
Between my palms; and wring, with care,
The trickling water from his hair.

Come, (faid he, no longer chill)
We'll bend this bow, and try our skill,
And prove the string, how far its pow'r
Remains unflacken'd by the show'r.

He bends the bow; and culls his quiver;
And pierces (like a breeze) my liver.
Then, leaping, laughing, as he fled,
Rejoice with me, my host, he said:
My bow is found in every part;
And you fhall rue it at your heart.

The