Hung loosely o'er her flender shape, and tried
To shade those beauties, that it could not hide.

The damfels of her train with mirth and song
Frolic behind, and laugh and fport along.
The birds proclaim their queen from every tree;
The beasts run frifking through the groves to fee;
The Loves, the Pleasures, and the Graces meet
In antic rounds, and dance before her feet.
By whate'er fancy led, it chanc'd that day
They through the fecret valley took their way,
And to the crystal grott advancing spied

The prince extended by the fountain's fide.

He look'd as, by some skilful hand express'd,
Apollo's youthful form retir'd to reft;

When with the chace fatigued he quits the wood
For Pindus' vale, and Aganippe's flood;
There fleeps fecure, his careless limbs difplay'd
At eafe, encircled by the laurel fhade;
Beneath his head his fheaf of arrows lie,
His bow unbent hangs negligently by.
The flumb'ring prince might boaft an equal grace,
So turn'd his limbs, fo beautiful his face.

Waking he started from the ground in hafte,
And faw the beauteous choir around him plac'd;

Then,

Then, fummoning his fenfes, ran to meet
The queen, and laid him humbly at her feet.
Deign, lovely princess, to behold, said he,
One, who has travers'd all the world, to fee
Those charms, and worship thy divinity:
Accept thy flave, and with a gracious fmile
Excuse his rashness, and reward his toil.
Stood motionless the fair with mute furprize,
And read him over with admiring eyes;

And while she stedfast gaz'd, a pleasing smart
Ran thrilling through her veins, and reach'd her heart.
Each limb fhe fcann'd, confider'd every grace,
And fagely judg'd him of the phoenix' race.
An animal like this she ne'er had known,
And thence concluded there could be but one;
The creature too had all the phoenix' air;
None but the phoenix could appear fo fair.
The more the look'd, the more she thought it true,
And call'd him by that name, to fhew she knew.

O handsome phoenix, for that fuch you are
We know, your beauty does your breed declare;
And I with forrow own through all my coaft
No other bird can fuch perfection boast;

For

For Nature form'd you fingle and alone,
Alas! what pity 'tis there is but one!
Were there a queen fo fortunate to shew
An aviary of charming birds like you,
What envy would her happiness create
In all, who faw the glories of her state!
The prince laugh'd inwardly, furpriz❜d to find
So ftrange a speech, fo innocent a mind.
The compliment indeed did fome offence
To reason, and a little wrong'd her sense;
He could not let it pass, but told his name,

And what he was, and whence, and why he came ;
And hinted other things of high concern

For him to mention, and for her to learn;

And she 'ad a piercing wit, of wond'rous reach
To comprehend whatever he could teach.
Thus hand in hand they to the palace walk,
Pleas'd and inftructed with each other's talk.

Here, fhould I tell the furniture's expence,
And all the structure's vaft magnificence,
Describe the walls of fhining faphire made,
With emerald and pearl the floors inlaid,
And how the vaulted canopies unfold
A mimic heav'n, and flame with gems

and gold;

Or

Or how Felicity regales her guest,

The wit, the mirth, the music, and the feaft;
And on each part bestow the praises due,
'Twould tire the writer, and the reader too.
My amorous tale a fofter path pursues:
Love and the happy pair demand my Muse.
O could her art in equal terms express

The lives they lead, the pleasures they poffefs!
Fortune had ne'er so plenteously before
Bestow'd her gifts, nor can fhe lavish more.
'Tis heav'n itself, 'tis ecftacy of blifs,
Uninterrupted joy, untir'd excefs;

Mirth following mirth the moments dance away;
Love claims the night, and friendship rules the day.

Their tender care no cold indiff'rence knows;

No jealoufies disturb their sweet repose ;
No fickness, no decay; but youthful grace,
And conftant beauty fhines in either face.
Benumming age may mortal charms invade,
Flow'rs of a day that do but bloom and fade;
Far diff'rent here, on them it only blows
The lilly's white, and spreads the blushing rofe;
No conqueft o'er those radiant eyes can boast;
They like the ftars fhine brighter in its froft;

Nor

Nor fear its rigour, nor its rule obey;

All seasons are the fame, and every month is May.

Alas! how vain is happiness below!

Man foon or late muft have his fhare of woe;

Slight are his joys, and fleeting as the wind
His griefs wound home, and leave a fting behind.
His lot diftinguish'd from the brute appears
Lefs certain by his laughter than his tears;

For ignorance too oft our pleasure breeds,
But forrow from the reas'ning foul proceeds.

If man on earth in endless blifs could be,

The boon, young prince, had been bestow'd on thee.
Bright fhone thy ftars, thy Fortune flourish'd fair,
And feem'd fecure beyond the reach of care,
And fo might still have been, but anxious thought
Has dash'd thy cup, and thou must taste the draught.
It fo' befel, as on a certain day

This happy couple toy'd their time away,

He afk'd how many charming hours were flown,
Since on her flave her heav'n of beauty shone.
Should I confult my heart, cried he, the rate
Were fmall, a week would be the utmost date:
But when my mind reflects on actions past,
And counts its joys, time muft have fled more fast.

Perhaps