Some bubbling upward thro' the Water came, Ah, Love! how ill I bore thy pleafing Pain! My Blood beat high, and with its trembling made Fear feiz'd the tim'rous Naiads, all agast Ah, ftay Florinda! (fo I meant to speak) From fhrilling Voices pierc'd the distant Sky: When ftrait, as each was their peculiar Care, Th' immortal Pow'rs to bring Relief prepare. A Golden Cloud defcended from Above, Like that which whilome hung on Ida's Brow, Where Juno, Pallas, and the Queen of Love, As then to Paris, were confpicuous now. Each Goddess feiz'd her fav'rite Charge, and threw Around her Limbs a Robe of Azure Hue. But Venus, who with Pity faw my Flame, ་་ Careless fhe dropt Florinda's Veil afide, I faw Elyzium, and the Milky Way, Fair op'ning to the Shades beneath her Breaft; In Venu's Lap the ftruggling wanton lay, And, while fhe ftrove to hide, reveal'd the rest. A Mole, embrown'd with no unfeemly Grace, Grew near, embellishing the charming Place: So pleas'd, I view'd, as one fatigu'd with Heat, who near at Hand beholds a shady Bow'r, Joyful, in Hope amidft this kind Retreat, To fhun the Day-Star in his Noon-tide Hour; Or as when, parch'd with droughty Thirst he spies A Moffy Grott whence pureft Waters rise. So I Florinda but beheld in vain: Like Tantalus, who in the Realms below. Sees blufhing Fruits, which, to encrease his Pain, When he attempts to eat, his. Tafte forego. O Venus! give me more, or let me drink SONG. I. A Lovely Nymph in penfive Mood Did privately retire, To footh her Griefs, a distant Wood II. She figh'd, and pull'd her Snuff-Box out, Left Then figh'd, and Snuff'd again, And looking watchfully about, III. Ye Ye gloomy Shades, and purling Streams, Alone thofe tort'ring dull Extremes Give me, the cry'd -IV. when freight a Swain, One Pinch of Snuff reply'd, And in return I'll give again, That you no longer fhall complain, You ne'er were fatisfy'd. V. She started while her Box he seiz'd, And Op'd with Might and Main, Then Snuff'd, and Snuff'd, till both were pleas'd, The Swain regal'd, the Nymph was eas'd. Of all her Grief and Pain. IMITATION OF HORACE, BOOK I. Ode 19. Mater Seva Cupidinum. T HE cruel Mother of Defire, With fprightly Wine, and wanton Eafe, Bids th' extinguish'd Flame refpire, And all my Soul with wonted Fury feize. Calia, I burn, my Heart obeys The Summons of fo bright a Face, Thro' whofe tranfparent Skin, the Veins Shew finer than the polifh'd Marbles Stains: So |