Damon. Then that to this wisht height the
Flood may fwell,
Friend, I will tell thee. Th. Friend,I thee will tell,
How young, how good, how beautiful fhe fell.
Oh! The was all for which fond Mothers pray,
Bleffing their Babes when first they see the day.
Beauty and She were one; for in her Face
Sate Sweetness temper'd with Majestick Grace;
Such pow'rful Charms as might the proudeft awe,
Yet fuch attractive Goodness as might draw
The humbleft, and to both give equal Law.
How was she wondred at by every Swain?
The Pride, the Light, the Goddess of the Plain:
On all the shin'd, and spreading Glories caft
Diffufive of her felf, where-e'er she past,
There breath'd an Air sweet as the Winds that blow
From the bleft Shoars where fragrant Spices grow:
Even me fometimes fhe with a smile would grace,
Like the Sun fhining on the vileft place.
Nor did Dorinda bar me the delight
Of feafting on her Eyes my longing fight:
But to a Being fo fublime, fo pure,
Spar'd my Devotion, of my Love secure.
Damon. Her Beauty fuch: but Nature did defign
That only as an answerable Shrine
To the Divinity that's lodg'd within.
Her Soul fhin'd through, and made her form fo bright,
As Clouds are gilt by the Sun's piercing light.
In her smooth Forehead we might read exprest
The even calmness of her gentle Breaft:
And in her sparkling Eyes as clear was writ
The active Vigour of her youthful wit.
Each Beauty of the Body or the Face
Was but the fhadow of fome inward Grace.
Gay, fprightly, chearful, free, and unconfin'd,
As Innocence could make it, was her Mind;
Yet prudent, though not tedious nor fevere,
Like thofe, who being dub would grave appear;
Who out of guilt do chearfulness despise,
And being fullen, hope Men think 'em wife.
How would the liftning Shepherds round her throng,
To catch the words fell from her charming Tongue!
She all with her own Spirit and Soul infpir'd,
Her they all lov'd, and her they all admir'd.
Even mighty Pan, whofe powerful hand sustains
The Sovereign Crook that mildly awes the Plains,
Of all his Cares made her the tender'ft part;
And great Lovifa lodg'd yet in her Heart.
Thyrfis. Who would not now a folemn Mourning
When Pan himself and fair Lovifa weep? [keep,
When those bleft Eyes by the kind Gods defign'd
To cherish Nature, and delight Mankind,
All drown'd in Tears, melt into gentler Showers
Than April-drops upon the springing Flowers;
Such Tears as Venus for Adonis shed,
When at her Feet the lovely Youth lay dead;
About her, all her little weeping Loves
Ungirt her Ceftos, and unyok'd her Doves.
Damon. Come pious Nymphs, with fair Lovisa And vifit gentle Floriana's Tomb ;
And as you walk the melancholy Round,
Where no unhallow'd Feet prophane the Ground,
With your chaft hands fresh Flow'rs and Odours hed
About her laft obfcure and filent Bed;
Still praying as you gently move your Feet,
Soft be her Pillow, and her Slumber sweet.
Thyrfis. See where they come, a mournful lovely
As ever wept on fair Arcadia's Plain:
Lovifa mournful far above the reft,
In all the Charms of beauteous Sorrow dreft:
Juft are her Tears, when the reflects how foon
A Beauty, second only to her own,
Flourisht, lookt gay, was wither'd, and is gone! Damon.O the is gone! gone like a new born Flower, That deck'd some Virgin Queen's delicious Bower ;,
Torn from the Stalk by fonte untimely blaft,
And 'mongst the vileft weeds and rubbish caft:
But Flow'rs return, and coming Springs disclose
The Lilly whiter, and more fresh the Rose;
But no kind Seafon back her Charms can bring,
And Floriana has no fecond Spring.
Thyrfis. O fhe is fet! fet like the falling Sun; Darkness is round us, and glad Day is gone! Alas! the Sun that's fet, again will rife,
And gild with richer Beams the Morning-Skies:
But Beauty, though as bright as they it fhines,
When its fhort Glory to the Weft declines,
O there's no hope of the returning Light;
But all is long Oblivion, and eternal Night.
The Tears of AMYNTA, for the Death of DAMO N.
Na Bank, befide a Willow,
Heavanker Coffing, Earth her Pillow,
Sad Amynta figh'd alone:
From the chearlefs dawn of Morning
'Till the Dews of Night returning
Singing thus fhe made her moan:
Hope is banish'd,
Joys are vanish'd,
Damon, my belov'd, is gone!
Time, I dare thee to discover Such a Youth, and fuch a I.over, Oh fo true, fo kind was he! Damon was the pride of Nature,
Never fhall we curfe the Morning,
Never blefs the Night returning,
Sweet Embraces to reftore:
Never fhall we both lye dying
Nature failing, Love fupplying
All the Joys he drain'd before:
Death come end me
To befriend me;
Love and Damon are no more.
The PRAISES of ITALY out of Virgil's fecond Georgic.
Sed neque Medorum Sylva, &c.
OUT neither Median Groves, whose happy foyl
Bwith choiceft fruits prevents the Labourers toil,
Nor Ganges ftreams bleffing his fertile Land,
Nor Hermus felf rolling on golden Sand,
Can with fair Italy the Prize contest,
Lefs gay the glorious Kingdoms of the East, [bleft.
Nor Araby, with all her Gums and Spice, is half fo
No Hydra's fhe, or monftrous Bulls do's bear,
Who with their flaming Noftrils blast the Air;
Nor Dragons Teeth sown in the wond'ring Field
Do fhort-liv'd Harvests of arm'd Brethren yield:
But vital Fruits fhe brings, Wine, Oyl, and Gorn,
And faireft Cattle do her Meads adorn,
Her warlike Horfe is of the nobleft Race,
Who proudly prances o'er his native Place.
And where thy Magick ftreams, Clitumnus, flow,
The flocks are white as the fresh falling Snow.
Heaven do's fo much thofe facred Victims prize
'Twill give a Conqueft for a Sacrifice.
As in the North 'tis Winter makes the Year,
The Spring and Autumn are the Seasons here,
Cattel breed twice, and twice the restless furrows
bear.
But Heav'n has banish'd hence rough Beafts of prey,
No hungry Lions on the Mountains stray,
Nor monftrous Snakes make infecure the fearful Travelers way.
Nature did this; but Industry and Art
To the rich mafs did nobler forms impart.
Her Marble Rocks into fair Cities rise,
Which with their pointed Turrets pierce the Skies.
Here pleasant Sears, by which clear ftreams do país,
Gaze on their fhadows in the liquid Glafs:
There, big with ftory, ancient Walls do fhow
Their reverend heads; beneath fam'd Rivers flow.
The Sea, which would furround the happy place,
Do's it on both fides with his Arms embrace:
And ftately Gallies which the Adria ride,
Bring the World's Tribute with each gentle Tide.
The fpacious Lakes with level prospect please,
Or fwell, an imitation of the Seas.
What fhould I tell how Art cou'd undertake
To make a Haven in the Lucrine Lake?
The rocky Mole which bridles in the Main,
Whilft angry Surges spend their rage in vain.
As Cafar's Arms all Nations can fubdue,
So Cafar's Works can conquer Nature too.
Her very Entrails veins of Silver hold,
And Mountains are all under arch'd with Gold;
But her chief Treasures, without which the reft are
Are Men for labour, Generals made to reign. [vain,
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