As to wild Plumbs the Damfcen is preferr❜d 5
As nimble Does out-ftrip the duller Herd;
As Maids feem fairer in their blooming Pride,
Than those who Hymen's Joys have often try'd;
As Philomel, when warbling forth her Love,
Excels the feather'd Quire of ev'ry tuneful Grove;
So much doft thou all other Youths excel:
They Speak not, Look not, Love not half fo well!
Sweeter thy Face! more ravishing thy Charms!
No Gueft fo welcome to my longing Arms!
When first I view'd those much lov'd Eyes of thine
At distance, and from far encount'ring mine,
I ran, I flew, to meet th' expected Boy
With all the tranfports of unruly Joy.
Not with fuch eager hafte, fuch fond Defires,
The Traveller, when scorch'd by Syrian Fires,
To fome well-fpreading Beach's Shade retires.
O! that fome God would equal Flames impart !
And fpread a mutual Warmth thro' either Heart!
'Till Men fhould quote our Names for loving well;
And Age to Age the pleafing Story tell.
Two Men there were (criesfome well meaningTongue)
Whofe Friendship equal on Love's Ballance hung:
Efpnilus one, Aites t'other Name,
Both furely fix'd in the Records of Fame)
Of honeft ancient Make and heav'nly Mould,
Such as in good King Saturn's Days of Old
Flourish'd, and ftamp'd the Age's Name with Gold.
Grant, mighty Jove, that after many a Day,
While we amidst th' Elysian Valleys ftray,
Some welcome Ghost may this glad Message fay,
Your Loves, the copious Theme of ev'ry Tongue,
Ev'n now with lafting Praise are daily fung;
Admir'd by all, but chiefly by the Young.
But Pray'rs are vain! the ruling Pow'rs on high,
Whate'er I ask, can grant, or can deny.
In the mean time thee my due Songs fhall praise,
Thee, the glad matter of my tuneful Lays:[raise.
Nor fhall the well meant Verfe a tell-tale Blifter
Nay should you chide, I'll catch the pleafing found,
Since the fame Mouth that made,can heal the Wound,
Ye Megarenfians, who from Nifa's Shoar
Plow up the Sea with many a well-tim'd Oar,
May all your Labours glad Succefs attend:
You, who to Diocles, that generous Friend,
Due Honours and becoming Reverence pay:
When rowling Years bring on the happy Day,
Then round his Tomb the crowded Youth refort,
With Lips well fitted for the wanton Sport :
And he, whofe pointed Kiss is sweetest found,
Returns with Laurels, and fresh Garlands crown'd.
Happy the Boy that bears the Prize away!
Happy, I grant: But O far happier they,
Who, from the Seats of their much envy'd blifs,
Receiv'd the Tribute of each wanton Kifs!
Surely to Ganymed their Pray'rs are made,
That, while the am'rous Strife is warmly plaid,
He would their Lips with equal Virtues guide
To those which in the faithful Stone refide:
Whofe Touch apply'd, the Artift can explore
The bafer Mettal from the shining Ore.
ΚΗΡΙΟ ΚΛΕΠΤΗΣ: Or the Nines teenth Idyllium of Theocritus.
Upid, the fliest Rogue alive,
But as with too eager Hafte
He ftrove the liquid Sweets to taste,
A Bee furpriz'd the heedlefs Boy;
Prick'd him, and dafh'd th' expected Joy.
The Urchin, when he felt the Smart
Of the envenom'd angry Dart,
He kick'd, he flung, he spurn'd the Ground;
He blow'd, and then he chaf'd the Wound:
He blow'd and chaf'd the Wound in vain!
The rubbing ftill increas'd the Pain.
Straight to his Mother's Lap he hies,
With fwelling Cheeks, and blubber'd Eyes.
Cries fhe---What does my Cupid ail
When thus he told his mournful Tale.
A little Bird they call a Bee,
With yellow Wings; fee, Mother, fee
How it has gor'd, and wounded me!
And are not you, reply'd his Mother,
For all the World juft fuch another?
Just such another angry thing,
Like in Bulk and like in Sting.
For when you aim a pois'nous Dart,
Against some poor unwary Heart,
How little is the Archer found!
And yet how wide, how deep the Wound!
As on Corinna's Breaft I panting lay,
My right Hand playing with & cætera,
A thoufand Words and amorous Kiffes
Prepar'd us both for more fubftantial Bliffes
And thus the hafty Moments flipt away,
Loft in the Transport of & cætera.
She blush'd to fee her Innocence betray'd,
And the small Opposition she had made,
Yet hug'd me close, and with a Sigh did say,
Once more, my Dear, once more & catera.
But O the Power to please this Nymph was paft,
Too violent a Flame can never last;
So we remitted to another Day
The Profecution of & catera.
The Complaint of ARIADNA. Out of CATULLUS,
By Mr. WILLIAM BOWLES.
The ARGUMENT.
The Poet in the Epithalamium of Peleus and Thetis, defcribes the Genial Bed, on which was wrought the Story of Thefeus and Ariadn?, and on that occafion makes a long Digreffion, part of which is the Subject of the following Poem.
"Here on th' extreameft Beach, and fartheft Sand
There on d'extra teem'd to fland,
New wak'd, and raving with her Love, the flew
To the dire Shoar, from whence the might purfuc
With longing Eyes, but all alas in vain!
The winged Bark o'er the tempeftuous Main;
For bury'd in fallacious Sleep the lay
While thro' the Waves falfe Thefeus cut his way,
Regardless of her Fate who fav'd his Youth;
Winds bore away his Promise and his Truth.
Like fome wild Bacchanal unmov'd fhe ftood,
And with fix'd Eyes survey'd the raging Flood.
There with alternate Waves the Sea does row!,
Nor lefs the Tempests that distract her Soul;
Abandon'd to the Winds her flowing Hair,
Rage in her Soul expreft, and wild Defpair:
Her rifing Breafts with Indignation swell,
And her loofe Robes difdainfully repell.
The fhining Ornaments that drest her Head,
When with the glorious Ravisher she fled,
Now at their Mistress Feet neglected lay,
Sport of the wanton Waves that with them play,
But he nor them regards, nor Waves that beat
Her fnowy Legs, and wound her tender Feet:
On Thefeus her loft Senfes all attend,
And all the Paffions of her Soul depend.
Long did her weaker Senfe contend in vain,
She funk at laft beneath the mighty Pain:
With various Ills befet, and ftupid grown,
She loft the Pov'r those Ills ev'n to bemoan:
But when the first Affault and fierce Surprize
Were paft, and Grief had found a Paffage at her Eyes,
With cruel Hands her fnowy Breaft she wounds,
Thefeus, in vain, through all the Shoar refounds.
Now urg'd by Love fhe plunges in the Main,
And now draws back her tender Feet again :
Thrice fhe repeats the vain Attempt to wade,
Thrice Fear and Cold her fhiv'ring Limbs invade.
Fainting at laft fhe hung her beauteous Head,
And fixing on the Shoar her Eyes, she said,
Ah cruel Man! and did I leave for thee My Parents, Friends, (for thou waft all to me) And is my Love, and is my Faith thus paid? Oh Cruelty unheard! a wretched Maid Here on a naked Shoar abandon'd, and betray'd! Betray'd to Mischiefs of which Death's the leaft, And plung'd in Ills too great to be exprest. Yet the Gods will, the Gods contemn'd by you, With Vengeance thy devoted Ship pursue, O'ertake thy Sails, and rack thy guilty Breast, And with new Plagues th' ill-omen'd Flight infeft. But tho' no Pity thy ftern Breast could move, Nor angry Gods, nor ill requited Love, Yet fenfe of Honour fure fhould touch thy Heart, And fhame from low, unmanly Flight divert,
|