Thy age, not thee, assisting Phoebus burns,
And vital flames light up thy funeral urns.
Whate'er events have been, thy eyes survey,
And thou art fixt, while ages roll away;
Thou saw'st when raging Ocean burst his bed,
O'ertopp'd the mountains, and the earth o'er-
When the rash youth inflam'd the high abodes,
Scorch'd up the skies, and scar'd the deathless gods.
When Nature ceases, thou shalt still remain,
Nor second Chaos bound thy endless reign;
Fate's tyrant laws thy happier lot shall brave,
Baffle Destruction, and elude the Grave.
TO MRS. LOWTHER ON HER MARRIAGE.
THE greatest swain that treads th' Arcadian grove,
Our shepherds envy, and our virgins love,
His charming nymph, his softer fair obtains,
The bright Diana of our flowery plains;
He, 'midst the graceful, of superior grace,
And she the loveliest of the loveliest race.
Thy fruitful influence guardian Juno, shed, And crown the pleasures of the genial bed: Raise thence, their future joy, a smiling heir, Brave as the father, as the mother fair.
Well may'st thou shower thy choicest gifts on those
Who boldly rival thy most hated foes;
The vigorous bridegroom with Alcides vies,
And the fair bride has Cytherea's eyes.
WITH A PRESENT OF FLOWERS.
THE fragrant painting of our flowery fields,
The choicest stores that youthful summer yields,
Strephon to fair Elisa hath convey'd,
The sweetest garland to the sweetest maid.
O cheer the flowers, my fair, and let them rest
On the Elysium of thy snowy breast,
And there regale the smell, and charm the view,
With richer odours, and a lovelier hue.
Learn hence, nor fear a flatterer in the flower,
Thy form divine, and beauty's matchless power:
Faint, near thy cheeks, the bright carnation glows,
And thy ripe lips outblush the opening rose:
The lily's snow betrays less pure a light,
Lost in thy bosom's more unsullied white;
And wreaths of jasmine shed perfumes, beneath
Th' ambrosial incense of thy balmy breath.
Ten thousand beauties grace the rival pair,
How fair the chaplet, and the nymph how fair!
But ah! too soon these fleeting charms decay,
The fading lustre of one hastening day.
This night shall see the gaudy wreath decline,
The roses wither, and the lilies pine.
The garland's fate to thine shall be apply'd, And what advance thy form, shall check thy pride:
Be wise, my fair, the present hour improve,
Let joy be now, and now a waste of love;
Each drooping bloom shall plead thy just excuse,
And that which show'd thy beauty, show its use.
As Damon Chloe's painted form survey'd,
He sigh'd, and languish'd for the jilting shade:
For Cupid taught the artist hand its grace,
And Venus wanton'd in the mimic face.
Now he laments a look so falsely fair, And almost damns, what yet resembles her; Now he devours it, with his longing eyes; Now sated, from the lovely phantom flies, Yet burns to look again, yet looks again, and dies. Her ivory neck his lips presume to kiss,
And his bold hands the swelling bosom press; The swain drinks in deep draughts of vain desire, Melts without heat, and burns in fancy'd fire.
Strange power of paint! thou nice creator art! What love inspires, may life itself impart. Struck with like wounds, of old, Pygmalion pray'd, And hugg'd to life his artificial maid;
Clasp, new Pygmalion, clasp the seeming charms, Perhaps ev'n now th' enlivening image warms, Destin'd to crown thy joys, and revel in thy
Thy arms, which shall with fire so fierce invade, That she at once shall be, and cease to be a maid.
PART OF THE FOURTH BOOK OF LUCAN.
Cæsar, having resolved to give battle to Petreius and Afra nius, Pompey's lieutenants in Spain, encamped near the enemy in the same field. The behaviour of their soldiers, at their seeing and knowing one another, is the subject of the following verses.
THEIR ancient friends, as now they nearer drew,
Prepar❜d for fight the wondering soldiers knew;
Brother with brother, in unnatural strife,
And the son arm'd against the father's life:
Curst civil war! then conscience first was felt,
And the tough veteran's heart began to melt.
Fix'd in dumb sorrow all at once they stand,
Then wave, a pledge of peace, the guiltless hand;
To vent ten thousand struggling passions move,
The stings of nature, and the pangs of love.
All order broken, wide their arms they throw,
And run, with transport, to the longing foe:
Here the long-lost acquaintance neighbours claim,
There an old friend recalls his comrade's name,
Youths, who in arts beneath one tutor grew,
Rome rent in twain, and kindred hosts they view.
Tears wet their impious arms, a fond relief,
And kisses, broke by sobs, the words of grief;
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