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Around it, mingled in a solemn band,
With open arms, Asteria shall receive Let Phæbe's lovers, and Asteria's stand,
The dearest pledge propitious Heaven can give. With fervent vows t'attend the sacrifice;
Fann'd by these winds, your friendship's generous While rich perfumes from melted gums arise,
fire To bribe for Phæbe's health the partial skies. Shall burn more bright, and to such heights aspire,
Forbid it, Love, that sickly blasts consume The wondering world shall think you from above
Come down to teach how happy angels love.
To wound th' untary maid he thought,
He droppd, half drawn, his feeble bow,
He look’d, he rav'd, and sighing pin'd; And drooping lies within her Phæbe's arms.
And wish'd in vain he had been now, Thus in romantic histories we read
As painters falsely draw him, blind. Of tournaments by some great prince decreed,
Disarm'd, he to his mother flies;
Help, Venus, help thy wretched son!
For Love himself's, alas! undone.
My darts are gone, but oh! beware,
TO OCTAVIA INDISPOSED.
Around your couch whilst sighing lovers view
So mournful is the scene, 'tis hard to tell
Which face betrays the sick, or who is well.
Worse tortur'd now, than lately by despair.
For bleeding veins a like relief is found, A double portion of th'ethereal fire,
When iron red-hot by burning stops the wound,
To see her well, though we the next expire.” (sire,
BEAUTY AND MUSIC.
Or Music's art with sounds divine,
Think how the rapturous charm improves,
Where two such gifts celestial join; Of Phoebe's health we need not send to know
Where Cupid's bow, and Phæbus' lyre, How Nature strives with her invading foe,
In the saine powerful hand are found; What symptoms good or ill each day arise;
Where lovely eyes inflame desire,
While trembling notes are taught to wound,
Such be thy fate, bright maid! from this decline
Cupid, survey thy shining train around
Of favourite nymphs, for conquest most renown'd;
The lovely warriors that in bright array
Then say, what beauteous general wilt thou choose, * Diomedes, Castor and Pollux. To lead the fair brigade against thy rebel foes?
Behold the god advance in comely pride, Thus ancient legends would our faith abuse: Asm'd with his bow, his quiver by his side:
In vain--for were the bold tradition true, Inferior Cupids on their master wait;
While your harmonious touch that charm renews, He smiles well pleas'd, and waves his wings in state. Again the scraph would appear to you. His little hands imperial trophies bear,
O happy fair! in whom, with purest light, And laurel-wreaths to grace th' elected fair.
Virtue's united beams with beauty shine!
Je mourrai de trop de plaisir,
Si je la trouve favourable; To Love's pre-eminence, and Beauty's fame. Je mourrai de trop de desir, Some, who, at Anna's court, in honour rais'd,
Se je la trouve inexorable, Adorn birth-nights, by crowding nations prais'd;
Ainsi je ne sçaurois guerir Preserv'd in Kneller's pictures ever young,
De la douleur qui me possede;
Je suis assuré de perir
Par le inal, ou par le remcde.
If she I love rewards my fire;
If she's inexorably coy, Tall, beauteous, and majestic to the sight,
With too much passion I expire. She led the train, and sparkled in the light.
No way the Fates afford to shun There Stella claims the wreath, and pleads her
The cruel torment I endure;
By the disease, or by the cure.
TO A PAINTER.
"Twere endless to describe the various darts, Paister, if thou canst safely gaze With which the fair are arm'd to conquer hearts. On all the wonders of that face; Whatever can the ravish'd soul inspire
If thou hast charms to guard a heart
0! teach the inighty charm, that we
To what then wilt thou next aspire,
He scarce had spoke, when seer-Harmonia caine! Though 'twas for that Salmoneus dy'd.
Whose chains so many lovers wear;
Who with a look can arts infuse,
She sits serene, and smiles on you!
Your genius thus inspir'd will soar
Adorn'd with spoils in battle won,
In graceful picture chose to stand,
The work of fam'd Apelles' hand;
“ Exert thy fire,” the monarch said, PLAYING ON THE ORGAN.
“ Now be thy boldest strokes display'd, W XIX fam'a Cecilia on the organ play'd, To let admiring nations see
And fill'd with moving sounds the tuneful frame, Their dreaded victor drawn by thée;
From Heaven, 'tis said, a listening angel came. But I'll immortalize thy'art."
Descending angels, in harmonious lays,
Such was the sacred art-We now deplore
The Muse's loss, since Eden is no more.
Th’ affrighted maid, with chaste Astrea, fled,
And sought protection in her native sky; In bloody battles won immortal fame,
In vain the heathen Nine her absence would supply. Forsook her female arts, and chose to bear
Yet to some few, whose dazzling virtues shone, The ponderous shield, and heave the massy spear, In ages past, her heavenly charms were known. Superior to her sex, so swift she flew
Hence learu'd the bard, in lofty strains to tell Around the fiell, and such vast numbers slew, How patient Virtue triumph'd over Hell; That friends and foes, alike surpris'd, behold And hence the chief, who led the chosen race The brave Virago desperately bold,
Through parting seas, deriv'd his songs of praise : And thought her Pallas in a human mould.
She gave the rapturous ode, whose ardent lay
She tun'd to pious notes the psalmist's lyre, (fire!
WRITTEN FOR THE LATE DUKE OP GLOUCESTER'S
Wue Venus in her snowy arms
The god of battles held,
And sooth'd him with her tender charms, And sing an empty song, the most they know;
Victorious from the field; In body weak, more impotent of mind.
By chance she cast a lovely smile, Thus some have represented woman-kind.
Propitious, down to Earth, But you, your sex's champion, are come forth
And view'd in Britain's happy isle To fight their quarrel, and assert their worth ;
Great Gloucester's glorious birth.
“Look, Mars,” she said; “ look down, and sec
With every princely grace:
Thy heavenly image let me bear,
Form you his mind to warlike care,
I'll softer gifts bestow."
Thus at his birth two deities
And love was breath'd into his eyes, Your virgin voice offends no virgin ear.
And glory form'd bis heart. Proceed in tragic numbers to disclose
His childhood makes of war a game; Strange turns of fate, and unexpected wocs.
Betimes his beauty charms
The fair; who burnd with equal fame
ON A PEACOCK,
FINELY CUT IN VELLUM BY MOLINDA
iles Fancy did Molinda's hand invite, 1698.
Withont the help of colour, shade, or light,
The fairest image of the feather d kind;
Nature herself a strict attendance paid,
Charm'd with th’attainments of th’ilustrious maid,
" I'll sce
To guide his pencil, and attest his fame,
Nor with less transport here the goddess sees Her rural slaves their absent victor mourn, The curious piece advance by slow degrees; And wish not liberty, but her return. At last such skill in every part was shown, The conquer'd countries droop, while she's away, It seem'd a new creation of her own;
And slowly to the Spring their contribution pay. She starts, to view the finish'd figure rise,
While cooing turtles, doubly now alone,
And jealous seem who shall be first undone.
O matchless bird! whose race, with nicest care, Hears daily conquests which she ne'er design'd,
WRITTEN IN A LADY'S PRAYER-BOOR, Their beauty shines no more, their lustre dies. So fair a form, with such devotion join'd! So when Molinda, with superior charms,
A virgin body, and a spotless mind! Dazzles the ring, and other nymphs disarms, Pleas'd with her prayers, while Heaven propitious To her the rallying Loves and Graces fly,
The lovely votress on her bended knees, (sees And, fixing there, proclaim the victory. No wonder, then, since she was born t'excel,
Sure it must think some angel lost its way, This bird's fair image she describes so well,
And happening on our wretched Earth to stray, Happy, as in some temple thụs to stand,
Tir'd with onr follies, fain would take its flight, Immortaliz'd by her successful hand.
And begs to be restor'd to those blest realms of light
ODE ON THE SPRING.
FOR THE MONTH OF MAY.
WAnton Zephyr, come away!
On this sweet, this silent grove, In bappy strains their pleasing dreams,
Sacred to the Muse and Love, Some Mase unseen to crown their verse,
In gentle whisper'd murmurs play! And boast of Heliconian streams :
Come, let thy soft, thy balmy breeze But here, a real Muse inspires
Diffuse thy vernal sweets around
From sprouting flowers, and blossom'd trees; (Who more reviving streams imparts)
While hills and echoing vales resound Our fancies with the poets' fires,
With notes, which wing’d musicians sing And with a nobler Hame our hearts.
In honour to the bloom of Spring. While from her hand each honour'd guest
Lovely season of desire! Receives his cup with liquor crown'd,
Nature smiles with joy to see He thinks 'tis Jove's immortal feast,
The amorous Months led on by thee, And Venus deals the nectar round.
That kindly wake her genial fire.
The brightest object in the skies,
The fairest lights that shine below,
The Sun, and Mira's charining eyes,
At thy return more charming grow:
With double glory they appear,
To warm and grace the infant Year.
ODE IN. BOOK U.
The design of this ode was to insinuate to Augustus Who only then had dy'd for her.
the danger of transferring the seat of the empire January 1, 1701.
from Rome to Troy, which we are informed he
once entertained thoughts of.
The man to right inflexibly inclin’d,
Poising on virtue's base bis mind,
Rests in himself secure,
Indissolubly firm in good;
l'nlike the slaves which other warriors gain, The foaming fury of the tood, That loath subjection, and would brcak their chain, When bellowing winds their jarring troops engage,
Or wasteful civil tumults roll along
“ Let Rome extend her fame to every shore; With fiercer strength, and louder roar,
And let no banks or mounds restrain Driving the torrent of the throng,
Th’impetuous torrent of her wide command ; . And gathering into power.
The seas from Europe, Africk part in vain; Let a proud tyrant cast a killing frown;
Swelling above those floods, her power Or Jove in angry thunder on the world look down; Shall, like its Nile, o'erflow the Lybian land. Nay, let the frame of Nature crack,
Shining in polish'd steel, she dares And all the spacious globe on high,
The glittering beams of gold despise, Shatter'd with universal rack,
Gold, the great source of human cares, Come tumbling from the sky:
Hid wisely deep from mortal eyes, Yet he'll survey the horrid scene
Till, sought in evil hour by hands unbtest,
Opening the dark abodes,
There issued forth a direful train of woes,
That give mankind no rest; Roam'd through the world, and blest the nations For gold, devoted to th' infernal gods, Till, rais'd at length to heavenly palaces,
No native human uses knows. Mankind, as gods, their benefactions crown'd; • Where'er great Jove did place With these, Augustus shal) for ever shine,
The bounds of Nature yet unseen, And stain his rosy lips in cups divine.
He meant a goal of glory to the race Thus his fierce tigers dauntless Bacchus bear;
The Roman arms shall win: The glaring savages resist in vain,
Rejoicing, onward they approach Impatient of the bit, and fretting on the rein;
To view the outworks of the world, Through yielding clouds he drives th’impetuous car.
The maddening fires, in wild debauch, [whirl'd! Great Romulus pursued the shining trace,
The snows and rains unborn, in endless eddies And leapt the lake, where all The rest of mortals fall,
" 'Tis I, O Rome, pronounce these fates behind, And with his father's horses scour'd the same bright | But will thy reign with this condition bind, airy race.
That no false filial piety, Then in full senate of the deities,
In idle shapes deluding thee,
Or confidence of power,
Tempt thee again to raise a Trojan tower;
Troy, plac'd beneath malignant stars, “ O Troy!” she said, “O hated Troy!
Haunted with omens still the same, A foreign woman', and a boy',
Rebuilt, shall but renew the former fame, Lewd, partial, and unjust,
Jove's wife and sister leading on the wars. Shook all thy proudest towers to dust;
Thrice let her shine with brazen walls, Inclin'd to ruin from the time
Rear'd up by heavenly hands: Thy king did mock two powers divine,
And thrice in fatal dust she falls, And ras'd thy fated walls in perjury,
By faithful Grecian bands; But doubly damnd by that offence,
Thrice the dire scene shall on the world return, Which did Minerva's rage incense,
And captive wives again their sons and husbands And offer'd wrong to me.
mourn." No more the treacherous ravisher
But stop, presumptuous Muse, thy daring flight, Shipes in full pomp and youthful charms;
Nor hope in thy weak lyric lay, Nor Priam's impious house with Hector's spear,
The heavenly language to display, Repels the violence of Grecian arms.
Or bring the counsels of the gods to light. “ Our feuds did long embroil the mortal rout,
At last the storm is spent,
He Paphian isle was once the blest abode To Mars I grant among the stars a place
Of Beauty's goddess and her archer-god. For his son Romulus, of Trojan race;
There blissful bowers and amorous shades were seen, Here shall he dwell in these divine abodes,
Pair cypress walks, and myrtles ever green. Drink of the heavenly bowl,
'Twas there, surrounded by a hallow'd wood, And in this shining court his name enrol,
Sacred to Love, a splendid temple stood; With the serene and ever-vacant gods: Where altars were with costly gums perfum'd, While seas shall rage between his Rome and Troy. And lovers sighs arose, and smoke from hearts conThe horrid distance breaking wide,
sum'd: The banish'd Trojans shall the globe enjoy, Till, thence remov'd, the queen of beauty flies And reign in every place beside;
To Britain, fam'd for bright victorious eyes. While beasts insult my judge's 'dust, and hide Here fix'd, she chose a sweeter seat for Love, Their litter in his cursed tomb,
And Greenwich-park is now her Cyprian grove. The shining Capitol of Rome
Nor fair Parnassus with this hill can vie, Shall overlook the world with awful pride, (dome; Which gently swells into the wondering sky, And Parthians take their law from that eternal Commanding all that can transport our sight,
And varying with each view the fresh delighte 6 Romulus was supposed to be the son of Mars From hence my Muse prepares to wing her way, by the priestess Ida.
And wanton, like the Thames, through smiling meads | Helen. • Paris. Paris.