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Give us this Evening; thou haft Morn and Night,
And all the year before thee, for delight.

O happy Youth! to thee among the crowd
Of Rival Princes, Cupid fneez'd aloud;
And every lucky Omen fent before,

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To meet thee landing on the Spartan fhore.
Of all our Heroes thou canst boaft alone,
That Jove, when e'er he Thunders, calls thee Son:
Betwixt two Sheets thou fhalt enjoy her bare;
With whom no Grecian Virgin can compare:
So foft, so sweet, fo balmy, and fo fair.
A boy, like thee, would make a Kingly line:
But oh, a Girl, like her, must be divine.
Her equals, we, in years, but not in face,
Twelvescore Virago's of the Spartan Race,
While naked to Eurota's banks we bend,
And there in manly exercife contend,
When the appears, are all eclips'd and loft;
And hide the Beauties that we made our boaft.
So, when the Night and Winter difappear,
The Purple morning rifing with the year
Salutes the fpring, as her Celestial eyes
Adorn the World, and brighten all the Skies:
So beauteous Helen fhines among the reft,
Tall, slender, straight, with all the Graces bleft:
As Pines the Mountains, or as fields the Corn,
Or as Theffalian Steeds the race adorn:
So Rofie-colour'd Helen is the pride
Of Lacedemon, and of Greece befide.
Like her no Nymph can willing Ozyers bendTM
In Basket-works, which painted ftreaks commend:
With Pallas in the Loom he may contend.
But none, ah none can animate the Lyre,
And the mute ftrings with Vocal Souls inspire:
Whether the learn'd Minerva be her Theam,
Orchaft Diana bathing in the Stream;
None can record their Heavenly praise fo well
As Helen, in whofe eyes ten thoufand Cupids dwell.

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O fair, O graceful! yet with Maids inroll'd,
But whom to morrows Sun a Matron fhall behold
Yet e'er to morrows Sun fhall show his head,
The dewy paths of meadow's we will tread,
For Crowns and Chaplets to adorn thy head.
Where all hall weep, and wish for thy return,
As bleating Lambs their abfent Mother mourn.
Our nobleй Maids fhall to thy name bequeath
The Boughs of Lotos, form'd into a wreath.
This Monument, thy Maiden beauties due,
High on a Plane Tree fhall be hung to view :
On the fmooth rind the Paffenger shall fee
Thy Name ingrav'd; and worship Helen's Tree:
Balm, from a Silver-box diftill'd around,

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Shall all bedew theRoots and scent the facred Ground;
The Balm, 'tis true, can aged flants prolong,
But Helen's Name will keep it ever young.
Hail Bride, hail Bridegroom, Son-in-Law to five!
With fruitful joys, Latona blefs your Love;
Let Venus furnish you with full defires,

Add vigour to your wills, and fuel to your Åtes:
Almighty Jove augment your wealthy ftore,
Give much to you, and to his Grandfons more.
From generous Loins a generous Race will fpring,
Each Girl,like her,aQueen; each Boy,like you,aKing.
Now fleep, if fleep you can; but while you reft,
Sleep clofe, with folded Arms, and Breaft to Breaft.
Rife in the morn; but oh before you rife,
Forget not to perform your morning Sacrifice.
We will be with you e'er the crowing Cock
Salutes the light, and ftruts before his feather'd Flock;
Hymen, oh Hymen, to thy Triumphs run,

And view the mighty fpoils thou haft in Battle won.

33

IDYLLIUM XXIII.

The Defpairing LOVER.

By Mr. DRYDEN.

WITH inaufpicious Love, a wretched Swain

Purfu'd the faireft Nymph of all the Plain Fairest indeed, but prouder far than fair, She plung'd him hopeless in a deep defpair: Her heavenly form too haughtily the priz'd, His Perfon hated, and his Gifts defpis'd: Nor knew the force of Cupid's cruel Darts, Nor fear'd his awful Pow'r on human Hearts; But either from her hopeless Lover fled, Or with difdainful Glances fhot him dead. No kifs, no look, to cheer the drooping Boy: No word she spoke, she fcorn'd ev'n to deny. But as a hunted Panther cafts about [fcout, Her glaring Eyes, and pricks her lift'ning Ears to So fhe, to fhun his Toils, her cares imploy'd, And fiercely in her favage freedom joy'd. Her Mouth the writh'd, her forehead taught to frown, Her Eyes to sparkle fires to love unknown: Her fallow Cheeks her envious mind did fhow, And every feature fpoke aloud the curftnefs of a. Yet cou'd not he his obvious Fate efeape, [Shrew. His love ftill dreft her in a pleafing fhape: And every fullen frown, and bitter feorn But fann'd the Fuel that too fast did burn. Long time, unequal to his mighty Pain, He ftrove to curb it, but he ftrove in vain: At last his woes broke out, and begg'd relief With Tears, the dumb petitioners of grief. With Tears fo tender, as adorn'd his Love; And any heart, but only hers, wou'd move: Trembling before her bolted doors he stood; And there pour'd out th' unprofitable flood:

Staring his Eyes, and haggard was his look;
Then kiffing first the threshold, thus he spoke.
Ah Nymph more cruel than of humane Race,
Thy Tygrefs heart belies thy Angel Face:
Too well thou show'ft thy Pedigree from Stone;
Thy Grandames was the firft by Pyrrha thrown:
Unworthy thou to be fo long defir'd;

But fo my Love, and fo my Fate requir'd.
I beg not now (for 'tis in vain) to live;
But take this Gift, the last that I can give.
This friendly Cord fhall foon decide the ftrife,
Betwixt my ling'ring Love and loathfome Life;
This moment puts an end to all my Pain;
I shall no more despair, nor thou difdain.
Farewell ungrateful and unkind, I go
Condemn'd by thee to thofe fad fhades below.
I go th' extreameft remedy to prove,
To drink Oblivion, and to drench my Love.
There happily to lofe my long defires:

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But ah, what draught fo deep to quench my Fires?
Farewel ye never opening Gates, ye Stones,
And Threshold guilty of my Midnight Moans =
What I have fuffer'd here ye know too well:
What I fhall do the Gods and I can tell.
The Rofe is fragrant, but it fades in time,
The Violet sweet, but quickly paft the prime ;
White Lillies hang their Heads and foon decay,
And whiter Snow in minutes melts away:

Such is your blooming Youth, and withering fo;
The time will come, it will, when you shall know
The rage of Love; your haughty heart fhall burn
In flames like mine, and meet a like return.
Obdurate as you are, oh, hear at least-

My dying Prayers, and grant my last Request!
When firft you ope your Doors, and passing by
The fad ill-omen'd Object meets your Eye,
Think it not loft, a moment if you ftay;
The breathless Wretch, fo made by you, furvey:

Some cruel Pleasure will from thence arife,
To view the mighty ravage of your Eyes.
I wish, (but oh my wish is vain I fear,)
The kind Oblation of a falling Tear:

Then loose the knot, and take me from the place,
And spread your Mantle o'er my grizly Face;
Upon my livid Lips bestow a kifs:

O envy not the dead, they feel not blifs!
Nor fear your kiffes can reftore my Breath ;
Even you are not more pittiless than death.
Then for my Corps a homely Grave provide,
Which Love and me from publick Scorn may 'hide.'
Thrice call upon my Name, thrice beat your breast,
And hail me thrice to everlafting reft:
Last let my Tomb this fad inscription bear,

A wretch whom Love has kill'd lies buried here:
Oh, Paffengers, Aminta's Eyes beware.

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Thus having faid, and furious with his Love; He heav'd with more than humane force, to move A weighty Stone, (the labour of a Team,) [Beam: And rais'd from thence he reach'd the Neighbouring Around its bulk a sliding knot he throws-;

And fitted to his Neck the fatal Noofe :

Then spurning backward took a swing, till death
Crept up, and ftopt the paffage of his Breath.
The bounce burst ope the door; the fcornful Fair
Relentless lookt, and faw him beat his quivering feet
Nor wept his Fate, nor caft a pitying Eye, [in Air,
Nor took him down, but brusht regardless by:
And as fhe paft, her chance or fate was fuch,
Her Garments toucht the dead, polluted by the touch.
Next to the dance, thence to the Bath did move;
The bath was facred to the God of Love:
Whose injur'd Image, with a wrathful Eye,
Stood threatning from a Pedeftal on high:
Nodding a while; and watchful of his blow,
He fell; and falling crusht th' ungrateful Nymph
below:

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