Where-e'er it points, denouncing death: below
Draw routed fquadrons, and the num'rous foe
Falling beneath, or flying from his blow:

'Till weak with wounds, and cover'd o'er with blood,>
Which from the patriot's breast in torrents flow'd, i
He faints: his steed no longer bears the rein;
But stumbles o'er the heap, his hand had slain.
And now exhaufted bleeding, pale he lies;
Lovely, fad object! in his half-clos'd eyes
Stern vengeance yet, and hoftile terror stand:

His front yet threatens; and his frowns command. **!
The Gallic chiefs their troops around him call; ::
Fear to approach him, tho' they fee him fall.-
O Kneller, could thy fhades and lights exprefs
The perfect hero in that glorious drefs;
Ages to come might Ormond's picture know j
And palms for thee beneath his laurels grow:
In spite of time thy work might ever shine;
Nor Homer's colours laft fo long as thine,

CELIA to DAMON.

Atque in amore mala haec proprio, summeque fecundo Inveniuntur

W

Co Lucret: Lib. 4./

HAT can I fay, what arguments can prove

My truth, what colours can describe my love:

If its excefs and fury be not known,

In what thy Celia has already done?

Thy infant flames, whilft yet they were conceal'd In tim'rous doubts, with pity I babeld ;*-aanv

With eafy fmiles difpell'd the filent fear,
That durft not tell me, what I-dy'd to hear:
In vain I ftrove to check my growing flame;
Or helter paffion under friendship's name : *
You faw my heart, how it my tongue bely'd; *1
And when you prefs'd, how faintly I'deny’d-

Ere guardian thought could bring its scatter'd aid;
Ere reafon could support the doubting maid;
My foul furpriz'd, and from herself disjoin'd,
Left all referve, and all the fex behind;
From your command hier motions the receiv'd:
And not for me, but you, the breath'd and liv'd.
But ever bleft be Cytherea's fhrine;

And fires eternal on her altars shine;

Since thy dear breast has felt an equal wound ;
Since in thy kinduets my defires are crown'd.

By thy each look, and thought, and care, 'tis shown
Thy joys are center'd all in me alone;

And fure I am, thou wouldst not change this hour
For all the white ones, fate has in its pow'.-
Yet thus belov'd, thus loving to excefs,
Yet thus receiving and returning blifs,
In this great moment, in this golden now.
When ev'ry trace of what, or when, or how,
Should from my foul by raging love be torn,
And far on fwelling feas of rapture-born;
A melancholy tear afflicts my eye;

And my heart labours with a fudden figh:
Invading fears repel my coward joy;
And ills foreseen the present bliss destroy.

Poor as it is, this beauty was the cause, That with fist sighs your panting bosom rose: But with no owner beauty long will stay, I Upon the wings of time born swift away:

Pafs but fome fleeting years and these poor eyesha
(Where now without a boast some lustre lyes)
No longer shall their little honours keep;
Shall only be of use to read or weep

And on this forehead, where your verse has said,
The Loves delighted, and the Graces play'd;
Infulting age will trace his cruel way,
And leave fad marks of his destructive fway.

[ceafe,

Mov'd by my charms, with them your love may

And as the fuel finks, the flame decrease:

Or angry heav'n may quicker darts prepare;
And fickness frike what time awhile would fpare
Then will my fwain his glowing vows renew? te
Then will his throbbing heart to mine be true? i
When my own face deters me from the glass;
And Kneller only fhews what Celia was.

Fantaflic fame may found her wild alarms; Your country, as you think may want your arms. You may neglect, or quench, or hate the flame, Whofe fmoke too long obfcur'd your rifing name: And quickly cold indiff 'rence will enfue;

When you love's joys thro' honour's optic view.

Then Celia's loudest pray'r will prove too weak, To this abandon'd breaft to bring you back ;rs Le When my loft lover the tall ship afcends,la slick? With mufic gay, and wet with jovial friends:

The tender accent of a woman's cry

Will pafs unheard, will unregarded die;

When the rough feaman's louder fhouts prevail; When fair occasion fhews the springing gale; [fáil. And int'reft guides the helm; and honour fwells the Some wretched lines from this neglected hand, May find my hero on the foreign strand,

[mand: Warm with new fires, and pleas'd with new comWhile the who wrote 'em, of all joy bereft,) *** To the rude cenfure of the world is left; Her mangl'd fame in barb'rous pastime lost, d The coxcomb's novel, and the drunkard's toaft. But nearer care (O pardon it!) fupplies Sighs to my breast, and sorrow to my eyes. Love, love himself (the only friend I have)

L

T

May fcorn his triumph, having bound his slave. A
That tyrant god, that restless conqueror
May quit his pleafure, to affert his powr; line was
Forfake the provinces that blefs his sway, ?* £.
To vanquish thofe that will not yet obey.
Another nymph with fatal pow'r may rise, *****
To damp the finking beams of Celia's eyes;
With haughty pride may hear her charms confeft;
And feorn the ardent vows that I have bleft:
You ev'ry night may sigh for her in vain * 102, bea
And rife each morning to some fresh difdain: ne
While Ceha's fofteft look may ceafe to charm,
And her embraces want the pow'r to warm:
While these fond arms, thus circling you, may prove
More heavy chains, than thofe of hopelef's love.

Juft gods! all other things their like produce:
The vine arifes from her mother's juice:
When feeble plants or tender flow'rs decay,
They to their feed their images convey;
Where the old myrtle her good influence sheds;
Sprigs of like leaf erect their filial heads:
And when the parent rose decays, and dies;
With a resembling face the daughter-buds arise.
That product only which our passions bear,..
Eludes the planter's miserable care:
While blooming love affures us golden fruit ;
Some inborn poison taints the fecret root: [fhoot.
Soon fall the flow'rs of joy; foon feeds of hatred

Say, fhepherd, fay, are these reflections true?

Or was it but the woman's fear, that drew

This cruel scene, unjust to love and you?
Will you be only, and for ever mine?
Shall neither time, nor age our fouls disjoin?
From this dear bofom fhall I ne'er be torn?
Or you grow cold, respectful, or forfworn?
And can you not for her you love do more,
Than any youth for any nymph before?