Reply'd the god, Your loftieft notes employ
To fing young Peleus, and the fall of Troy.
The wondrous fong with rapture they rehearse,
Then afk who wrought that miracle of verfe.
He anfwer'd with a frown: I now reveal
A truth, that Envy bids me not conccal.
Retiring frequent to his laureat vale,
I warbled to the lyre that favourite tale,
Which, unobferv'd, a wandering Greek and blind,
Heard me repcat, and treafur'd in his mind;
And, fir'd with thirst of more than mortal praise,
From me the god of wit ufurp'd the bays.、
But let vain Greece indulge her growing fame,
Proud with celeftial fpoils to grace her name :
Yet when my arts fhall triumph in the Weft,
And the White Ile with female power is bleft,
Fame, I forefee, will make reprisals there,
And the tranflator's palm to me transfer ;
With lefs regret my claim I now decline,
The world will think this English Iliad mine.
WHENE'ER I wed, young Strephon cry'd,
Ye powers that o'er the noose prefide,
Wit, beauty, wealth, good-humour give,,
Or let me ftill a rover live:
But if all these no nymph can fhare,
Let mine, ye powers! be doubly fair.
Thus pray'd the swain in heat of blood,
Whilft nigh celeftial Cupid ftood ;
And, tapping him, faid, Youth be wife,
And let a child for once advife.
A faultlefs make, a manag'd wit,
Humour and riches, rarely meet:
But if a beauty you'd obtain,
Court fome bright Phyllis of the brain;
The dear idea long enjoy,
Clean is the blifs, and ne'er will cloy.
But trust me, youth, for I'm fincere,
And know the ladies to a hair;
Howe'er fmall pocts whine upon it,
In madrigal, and fong, and fonnet,
Their beauty's but a spell, to bring
A lover to th' enchanted ring.
E'er the fack-poffet is digefted,
Or half of Hymen's taper wafted,
The winning air, the wanton trip,
The radiant eye, the velvet lip,
From which you fragrant kiffes ftole,
And feem'd to fuck her fpringing foul;
These, and the reft you doated on,
Are naufeous, or infipid grown;
The fpell diffolves, the cloud is gone,
And Sachariffa turns to Joan.
OB'D like Diana, ready for the chace,
Her mind as fpotlefs, and as fair her face,
Young Sylvia stray'd beneath the dewy dawn
To courfe th' imperial stag o'er Windfor lawn.
There Cupid view'd her spreading o'er the plain,
The first and faireft of the rural train;
And, by a small mistake, the power of love,
Thought her the virgin-goddess of the grove:
Soon aw'd with innocence, t' evade her fight
He fled, and drop'd his quiver in the flight:
Though pleas'd, she blush'd; and, with a glowing fmikt .
Pursued the god, and feiz'd the golden spoil.
The nymph, refiftlefs in her native charms,
Now reigns, poffefs'd of Cupid's dreaded arms ;
And, wing'd with lightning from her radiant eyes,
Unerring in its speed each arrow flies.
No more his deity is held divine,
No more we kneel at Cytherea's fhrine;
Their various pewers, complete in Sylvia, prove
Her title to command the realms of love.
TRANSLATED FROM SECUNDUS.
BASIUM I.
WHEN Venus, in the sweet Idalian fhade,
A violet couch for young Afcanius made,
Their opening gems th' obedient roses bow'd,
And veil'd his beauties with a damafk cloud :
While the bright goddefs, with a gentle shower
Of nectar'd dews, perfum'd the blissful bower.
Of fight infatiate, she devours his charms,
Till her soft breast rekindling ardour warms;
New joys tumultuous in her bofom roll,
And all Adonis rufheth on her foul:
Transported with each dear resembling grace,
She cries, Adonis !---fure I fee thy face!
Then ftoops to clafp the beauteous form, but fears
He'd wake too foon, and with a figh forbears;
Yet, fix'd in filent rapture, stands to gaze,
Kiffing each flowering bud that round her plays :
Swell'd with her touch, each animated rofe
Expands, and ftrait with warmer purple glows;
Where infant kiffes bloom, a balmy store!
Redoubling all the blifs fhe felt before.
Sudden her fwans career along the skies,
And o'er the globe the fair celestial flies;
Then, as where Ceres pafs'd, the teeming plain
Yellow'd with wavy crops of golden grain,
So fruitful kiffes fell where Venus flew,
And by the power of genial magic grew;
A plenteous harveft! which the deign'd t' impart
To footh an agonizing love-fick heart.
All hail, ye rofcate kiffes! who remove
Our cares, and cool the calentures of love.
Lo! I your poct, in melodious lays
Blefs your kind power, enamour'd of your praise; Lays! form'd to laft till barbarous time invades The Mufes' hill, and withers all their fhades. Sprung from the guardian of the Roman name, In Roman numbers live, fecure of fame.
S the young enamour'd vine
Round her clm delights to twine,
As the clasping ivy throws
Round her oak her wanton boughs,
So clofe, expanding all thy charms,
Fold me, my Chloris, in thy arms!
Clofer, my Chloris, could it be,
Would my fond arms in circle thee.
The jovial friend fhall tempt in vain With humour, wit, and brisk champaigne ;
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