"Who fell the forest, or who mow the mead, "Or drag in little boats the finny breed:

"Her wide-mouth'd fons low-feated Henley fends, "And fmoky Okingham it's tribute lends.

"But far did MARIAN all the rest outvie, "No check fo ruddy, nor fo black an eye; "Scarce DOLLY C----K the daughter of the may'r, "With all the flaxen ringlets of her hair, "With all the fnowy fulness of her breast, "In blithsome features might with me contest. "All youths ambitiously around me ftrove, "Each gave some chosen emblem of his love; "One queintly bought the garters for my thighs, "While fimple archness sparkled in his eyes. "But all their fairings unfuccefsful prove, "Still true to COLIN CLOUT I held my love. -Ah! fly deceiver ! you enclafp'd my arm, "And feem'd my faviour, while you meant my harm; "Far too unequal was the high reward,

My maidenhead must pay thee for thy guard; "Already warm'd with joy you win my heart, "And ftamp a little COLIN e'er we part.

-Yet now, when nature fills my womb, to fly"Nor yet one tear to iffue from thine eye

66

My flighted love to quick refentment turns ; "Lo my blood rises, and my cheek all burns! “O I could tear thee as I tear this glove"Go, horrid monfter! I defpife thy love,

Thy oaths I quit, thy fairings I refign,

Forget, renounce thee, hate whate'er was thine. "No chriftian mother bound thy infant head, "Some Turk begat thee, or fome Papist bred; "Or dropt on Cambrian hills, a fquallid brat, "Some fhe-goat fuckled thee with savage teat. "+-Go to thy drab, whoe'er has won thy heart, "And may the pox devouring make thee fmart;

My vengeful ghost shall haunt thee o'er the plain, "Yes, thou fhalt fuffer, villain, for my pain.

-But ah! my rage relents, my forrow flows ; "Come COLIN! faithless fhepherd! ease my woes. "And muft I in the sheet opprobrious stand?

66

66

Thy plight is troth'd, ah! come and give thy hand:

My conscience starts, whene'er I hear a knell, "And is a little love deferving hell?

"Too hard a penance for a fin fo flight!
"Ah how my heart mifgives me every night?

* Nec tibi diva parens, generis nec Dardanus auctor, Perfide, fed duris genuit te cautibus horrens Caucafus, Hyrcanaque admorunt ubera tigres.

+ I, fequere Italiam ventis, &c.

Spero equidem mediis, fiquid pia numina, &c.

↑ Omnibus umbra locis adero, dabis, improbe, pœnas.

En. 4

"When fleep has clos'd my forrow-ftreaming eyes, "Then ghaftly dreams, and hateful thoughts arise : "All unaccompany'd methinks I go

"O'er Irish bogs, a wilderness of woe!

"Ah! my wits turn! ftrange phantoms round me fly! "Lo! I am chang'd into a goofb❜ry pye!

Forbear to eat me up, inhuman rabble! "Cocks crow, ducks quake, hens cackle, turkies gabble."

Thus as fhe rav'd, her womb with rueful throes Did to the light a lufty babe disclose :

Long while fhe doubted of the fmirking boy,
Or on her knee to dandle, or destroy;

Love prompted her to fave, and Pride to drown,
At length Pride conquer'd, and fhe dropt her fon.

*

Semperque relinqui

Sola fibi, femper longam incomitata videtur
Ire viam, & Tyrios defertâ quærere terrâ.

Eumenidum veluti demens videt agmina Pentheus, &c.

Æn. 4

WHAT fears, what terrors does thy gift create!

Ambiguous emblem of uncertain fate!

The myrtle, enfign of fupreme command,
(Confign'd by VENUS to MELISSA's hand)
Not lefs capricious than a reigning fair,
Oft favours, oft rejects the lover's care.
In myrtle groves oft fings the happy fwain,
In myrtle shades defpairing ghofts complain;
The myrtle crowns the happy lovers heads,
Th' unhappy lovers graves the myrtle spreads;
Oh! then the meaning of thy gift impart,
And cure the throbbings of an anxious heart;
Soon must this bough, as you shall fix his doom,
Adorn PHILANDER's head, or grace his tomb.

ΤΟ

A YOUNG LADY

WITH

FONTENELLE'S PLURALITY OF WORLDS.

IN

N this fmall work all nature's wonders fee,
The foften'd features of philofophy.
In truth by easy steps you here advance,
Truth, as diverting as the beft romance.
Long had these arts to fages been confin'd,
None faw their beauty, till by poring blind;
By studying spent, like men that cram too full,
From Wisdom's feast they rose not chear'd, but dull:
The gay and airy fmil'd to fee 'em grave,
And fled fuch wifdom like TROPHONIUS' cave.
Juftly they thought they might thofe arts despise,
Which made men fullen, ere they could be wife.
Brought down to fight, with ease you view 'em here;
Tho' deep the bottom, yet the stream is clear.
Your flutt'ring fex, ftill valued science less;
Careless of any, but the arts of drefs.
Their useless time was idly thrown away

On empty novels, or fome new-born play.
The best, perhaps, a few loofe hours might spare
For fome unmeaning thing, mifcall'd a pray'r.