And hafte thy beauties to disclose,
Queen of fragrance, lovely Rose!

But thou, fair nymph, thyfelf furvey
In this fweet offspring of a day:
That miracle of face muft fail;

Thy charms are sweet, but charms are frail:
Swift as the fhort-liv'd flower they fly,
At morn they bloom, at evening die:
Though fickness yet a while forbears,
Yet time destroys what fickness fpares.
Now Helen lives alone in fame,
And Cleopatra's but a name.

Time must indent that heavenly brow,
And thou must be, what they are now.

This moral to the fair difclofe, Queen of fragrance, lovely Rofe.

BELINDA AT THE BATH.

HILE in thefe fountains bright Belinda laves,

WHILE

She adds new virtues to the healing waves:
Thus in Bethesda's pool an angel ftood,
Bad the foft waters heal, and blest the flood;
But from her eye fuch bright deftruction flies,
In vain they flow! for her, the lover dies.

No more let Tagus boaft, whose beds unfold
A fhining treasure of all-conquering gold!

No

No more the * Po! whofe wandering waters ftray,
In mazy errors, through the ftarry way:
Henceforth thefe fprings fuperior honours share;
There Venus laves, but my Belinda here.

L

OVE is a noble rich repast,

But feldom fhould the lover tafte;
When the kind fair no more restrains,
The glutton furfeits, and difdains.

To move the nymph, he tears beftows,
He vainly fighs, he falfely vows:
The tears deceive, the vows betray;
He conquers, and contemns the prey.

Thus Ammon's fon with fierce delight
Smil'd at the terrors of the fight;

The thoughts of conqueft charm'd his eyes,
He conquer'd, and he wept the prize.

Love, like a profpect, with delight
Sweetly deceives the diftant fight,
Where the tir'd travellers furvey,
O'er hanging rocks, a dangerous way.

-Eridanum cernes in parte locatum cœli.”

Tull. in Arateis.

"Gurgite fidereo fubterluit Oriona." Claud.

Ye

Ye fair that would victorious prove,

Seem but half kind, when most you
Damon purfues, if Cælia flies;
But when her love is born, his dies.

Had Danaë the young, the fair,
Been free and unconfin'd as air,

love:

Free from the guards and brazen tower,
She 'd ne'er been worth a golden shower.

To the Honourable

MRS. ELIZABETH TOWNSHEND, Afterwards Lady CORNWALLIS,

ON HER PICTURE, AT RAINHAM.

A

περιέσσι γυναικῶν

Εἶδός τ ̓ ἰδὲ φρένας.

Odyssey, Lib. 18.

H! cruel hand, that could fuch power employ

To teach the pictur'd beauty to destroy!
Singly fhe charm'd before; but by his skill
The living beauty and her likeness kill!
Thus when in parts the broken mirrours fall,
A face in all is feen, and charms in all!

Think then, O fairest of the fairer race, What fatal beauties arm thy heavenly face, Whofe very fhadow can fuch flames infpire; We fee 'tis paint, and yet we feel 'tis fire.

See!

See! with falfe life the lovely image glows, And every wondrous grace transplanted shows; Fatally fair the new creation reigns,

Charms in her fhape, and multiplies our pains: Hence the fond youth, that eafe by abfence found, Views the dear form, and bleeds at every wound; Thus the bright Venus, though to heaven fhe foar'd, Reign'd in her image, by the world ador'd.

Oh! wondrous power of mingled light and fhades!
Where beauty with dumb eloquence perfuades,
Where paffions are beheld in picture wrought,
And animated colours look a thought:

Rare art! on whofe command all nature waits!
It copies all Omnipotence creates :

Here crown'd with mountains earth expanded lies,
There the proud seas with all their billows rife :
If life be drawn, refponfive to the thought
The breathing figures live throughout the draught;
The mimic bird in fkies fictitious moves,

Or fancy'd beafts in imitated groves:

Ev'n heaven it climbs; and from the forming hands An angel here, and there a *Townshend stands.

Yet, painter, yet, though art with nature strive, Though ev'n the lovely phantom seem alive, Submit thy vanquish'd art! and own the draught, Though fair, defective, and a beauteous fault:

*Now Lady Cornwallis.

VOL. XLIV.

Charms,

Charms, fuch as hers, inimitably great,

He only can exprefs, that can create.
Couldst thou extract the whitenefs of the fnow,
Or of its colours rob the heavenly bow,
Yet would her beauty triumph o'er thy skill,
Lovely in thee, herfelf more lovely still!

Thus in the limpid fountain we defcry
The faint resemblance of the glittering sky;
Another fun difplays his leffen'd beams,
Another heaven adorns th' enlighten'd streams:
But though the scene be fair, yet high above
Th' exalted skies in nobler beauties move;
'There the true heaven's eternal lamps display
A deluge of inimitable day.

ΤΟ

MR. PO PE,

ON HIS WORK S. 1726.

ET vulgar fouls triumphal arches raise,

And speaking marble, to record their praife;
Or carve with fruitless toil, to fame unknown,
The mimic feature on the breathing ftone;
Mere mortals, fubject to death's total fway,
Reptiles of earth, and beings of a day!
'Tis thine, on every heart to grave thy praise,
A monument which worth alone can raise;
Sure to furvive, when time fhall whelm in duft
The arch, the marble, and the mimic buft;
Nor till the volumes of th' expanded sky
Blaze in one flame, fhalt Thou and Homer die;

When