Yet in fuch Charities fhe pass'd the Day,
'Twas wond'rous how the found an Hour to Pray.
A Soul fo calm, it knew not Ebbs or Flows,
Which Paffion cou'd but curl; not difcompose.
A Female Softness, with a Manly Mind:
A Daughter duteous, and a Sister kind:
In Sickness patient; and in Death resign'd.
LD as I am, for Ladies Love unfit,
ThePow'r of BeautyI remember yet,
Which once inflam'd my Soul, and
ftill inspires my Wit.
If Love be Folly, the fevere Divine
Has felt that Folly, tho' he cenfures mine O.
Pollutes the Pleasures of a chaft Embrace,
Acts what I write, and propagates in Grace,
With riotous Excefs, a Prieftly Race:
Suppose him free, and that I forge th' Offence,
He shew'd the way, perverting first my Sense:
In Malice witty, and with Venom fraught,
He makes me speak the Things I never thought.
Compute the Gains of his ungovern'd Zeal;
Ill futes his Cloth the Praise of Railing well!
The World will think that what we loofly write,
Tho' now arraign'd, he read with fome delight;
Because he seems to chew the Cud again,
When his broad Comment makes the Text too plain:
And teaches more in one explaining Page,
Than all the double Meanings of the Stage.
What needs he Paraphrafe on what we mean?
We were at worst but Wanton; he's Obscene.
I, nor my Fellows, nor my Self excufe;
But Love's the Subject of the Comic Muse:
Nor can we write without it, nor would you
A Tale of only dry Instruction view;
Nor Love is always of a vicious Kind,
But oft to yirtuous Acts inflames the Mind.
Awakes the fleepy Vigour of the Soul,
And, brushing o'er, adds Motion to the Pool.
Love, ftudious how to please, improves our Parts
With polish'd Manners, and adorns with Arts.
Love first invented Verfe, and form'd the Rhime,
The Motion measur'd, harmoniz'd the Chime;
To lib'ral Acts enlarg'd the narrow-Soul'd :
Soften'd the Fierce, and made the Coward Bold:
The World when wafte, he Peopled with Increase,
And warring Nations reconcil'd in Peace.
Ormond, the first, and all the Fair may find,
In this one Legend, to their Fame defign'd,
When Beauty fires the Blood, how Love
N that fweet Ifle, where Venus keeps her Court,
And ev'ry Grace, and all the Loves, refort; Where either Sex is form'd of fofter Earth, And takes the bent of Pleasure from their Birth; There liv'd a Cyprian Lord, above the rest, Wife, Wealthy, with a num'rous Iffue bleft. But as no Gift of Fortune is fincere, Was only wanting in a worthy Heir: His eldest Born, a goodly Youth to view,
Excell'd the reft in Shape, and outward Shew; Fair, Tall, his Limbs with due Proportion join'd, But of a heavy, dull, degenerate Mind.
His Soul bely'd the Features of his Face;
Beauty was there, but Beauty in Difgrace.
A clownish Mien, a Voice with ruftick Sound,
And stupid Eyes, that ever lov'd the Ground.
He look'd like Nature's Error; as the Mind
And Body were not of a Piece defign'd, [join'd.
But made for two, and by Mistake in one were
The ruling Rod, the Father's forming Care, Were exercis'd in vain, on Wit's Defpair; The more inform'd the less he understood, And deeper funk by flound'ring in the Mud. Now fcorn'd of all, and grown the publick Shame, The People from Galefus chang❜d his Name, And Cymon call'd, which fignifies a Brute; So well his Name did with his Nature fute. His Father, when he found his Labour loft, And Care employ'd, that answer'd not the Coft, Chose an ungrateful Object to remove, And loath'd to see what Nature made him love; So to his Country-Farm the Fool confin'd: Rude Work well futed with a ruftick Mind.
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