I'll tear it's honours from the broken fhrine,
Bu chify thone, O Venus! will tear.
Inceiv'd by thee, I lov'd a beauteous maid,
Wie bends on fordid gold her low defires :
Nor worth nor paffion can her heart perfuade,
But love must act what avarice requires.
Unwife who firft, the charm of nature loft,
With Tyrian purple foil'd the fnowy sheep;
Unwifer fill who feas and mountains croft,
To dig the rock, and fearch the pearly deep:
Thefe cofly toys our filly fair furprise,
The fhining follies cheat their feeble fight,
Their hearts fecure in trifles, love defpife,
"Tis vain to court them, but more vain to write.
Why did the gods conceal the little mind,
And earthly thoughts beneath a heavenly face;
Forget the worth that dignifies mankind,
Yet fmooth and polifh fo each outward grace?
Hence all the blame that Love and Venus bear,
Hence pleasure short, and anguish ever long,
Hence tears and fighs, and hence the peevish fair,
The froward lover-hence this angry fong
Unable to fatisfy the covetous temper of Neæra, he intends to make a Campaign, and try, if possible, to forget her.
ADIEU, ye walls, that guard my cruel fair,
No more I'll fit in rofy fetters bound,
My limbs have learnt the weight of arms to bear,
My roufing fpirits feel the trumpet's found.
Few are the maids that now on merit fmile,
On spoil and war is bent this iron age:
Yet pain and death attend on war and spoil,
Unfated vengeance and remorfelefs rage.
To purchase spoil, even love itself is fold,
Her lover's heart is leaft Neæra's care,
And I through war must seek detefted gold,
Not for myself, but for my venal fair:
That while fhe bends beneath the weight of drefs,
The fliffen'd robe may spoil her eafy mien;
And art mistaken make her beauty lefs,
While ftill it hides fome graces better feen.
But if fuch toys can win her lovely smile,
Hers be the wealth of Tagus' golden fand,
Hers the bright gems that glow in India's foil,
Hers the black fons of Afric's fultry land.
To please her eye let every loom contend,
For her be rifled ocean's pearly bed.
But where, alas! would idle fancy tend,
And foothe with dreams a youthful poet's head?
Let others, by the cold unloving maid,
In forc'd embraces act the tyrant's part,
While I their selfish luxury upbraid,
And fcorn the person where I doubt the heart.
Thus warm'd by pride, I think I love no more,
And hide in threats the weakness of my mind:
In vain,-though reason fly the hated door,
Yet Love, the coward Love, still lags behind.
He upbraids and threatens the avarice of Neara, and refolves to quit her.
SHOULD Jove defcend in floods of liquid ore, And golden torrents ftream from every part,
That craving bofom still would heave for more,
Not all the gods could fatisfy thy heart:
But may thy folly which can thus difdain
My honeft love, the mighty wrong repay,
May midnight fire involve thy fordid gain,
And on the fhining heaps of rapine prey:
May all the youths, like me, by love deceiv'd, Not quench the ruin, but applaud the doom; And, when thou dy'ft, may not one heart be griev'd, May not one tear bedew the lonely tomb.
But the deferving, tender, generous maid, Whofe only care is her poor lover's mind, Though ruthlefs age may bid her beauty fade, In every friend to love, a friend fhall find:
And, when the lamp of life will burn no more, When dead fhe feems as in a gentle fleep, The pitying neighbour fhall her lofs deplore, And round the bier affembled lovers weep: With flowery garlands, each revolving year, Shall ftrow the grave where truth and softness rests, Then home returning, drop the pious tear, And bid the turf lie cafy on her breast.
To his friend, written under the confinement of a long indifpofition.
WHILE calm you fit beneath your fecret fhade, And lofe in pleafing thought the fummer-day, Or tempt the wish of fome unpractis'd maid, Whofe heart at once inclines and fears to ftray: The fprightly vigour of my youth is fled,
Lonely and fick, on death is all my thought,
Oh, fpare, Perfephone, this guiltless head,
Love, too much love, is all thy fuppliant's fault.
No virgin's easy faith I e'er betray'd,
My tongue ne'er boasted of a feign'd embrace;
No poifons in the cup have I convey'd,
Nor veil'd deftruction with a friendly face:
No fecret horrors gnaw this quiet breaft,
This pious hand ne'er robb'd the facred fane,
Ine'er difturb'd the gods eternal rest
With curfes loud,-but oft have pray'd in vain.
No ftealth of time has thinn'd my flowing hair.
Nor age yet bent me with his iron hand:
Ah! why fo foon the tender bloffom tear!
Ere autumn yet the ripen'd fruit demand ?
Ye gods, whoe'er in gloomy fhades below,
Now flowly tread your melancholy round;
Now wandering, view the paleful rivers flow,
And mufing, hearken to their folemn found:
Oh, let me ftill enjoy the cheerful day,
Till, many years unheeded o'er me roll'd,
Pleas'd in my age, I trifle life away,
And tell how much he lov'd, ere I grew old.
But you, who now, with feftive garlands crown'd,
In chase of pleasure the gay moments.fpend.
By quick enjoyment heal love's pleafing wound,
And grieve for nothing but your abfent friend.
The lover is at firft introduced speaking to his Servant, be afterwards addreffes himself to his Miftrefs, and at laft there is a fuppofed Interview between them.
WITH wine, more wine, deceive thy mafter's care,
Till creeping flumber foothe his troubled breast,
Let not a whisper stir the filent air,
If hapless love a while consent to rest.
Untoward guards befet my Cynthia's doors,
And cruel locks th' imprison'd fair conceal,
May lightnings blast whom love in vain implores,
And Jove's own thunder rive those bolts of fteel.
Ah! gentle door, attend my humble call,
Nor let thy founding hinge or thefts betray,
So all my curfes far from thee fhall fall,
We angry lovers mean not half we say.
Remember now the flowery wreathes I gave
When first I told thee of my bold defires,
Nor thou, O Cynthia, fear the watchful flave,
Venus will favour what herself inspires.
She guides the youth who see not where they tread,
She fhows the virgin how to turn the door,
Softly to fteal from off her filent bed,
And not a flep betray her on the floor.
The fearless lover wants no beam of light, The robber knows him, nor obftructs his way, Sacred he wanders through the pathlefs night, Belongs to Venus, and can never stray.
I fcorn the chilling wind, and beating rain, Nor heed cold watchings on the dewy ground;
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