'Tis She that does my artful Notes refine:
With fair AMINTA's Name my noblest Verse shall shine. AMARYLLIS.
I'll'twine fresh Garlands for ALEXIS' Brows,
And confecrate to Him eternal Vows:
The charming Youth shall my APOLLO prove:
He shall adorn my Songs, and tune my Voice to Love.
To the AUTHOR of the
Foregoing PASTORAL.
Y SILVIA if thy charming Self be meant;
B.If Friendship be thy Virgin Vows Extents
O! let me in AMIN TA'S Praises join:
Her's my Efteem fhall be, my Paffion Thine.
When for Thy Head the Garland I prepare;
A fecond Wreath fhall bind AMINTA'S Hair:
And when my choiceft Songs Thy Worth proclaim;
Alternate Verfe fhall blefs A MINTA's Name:
My Heart fhall own the Juftice of her Cause:
And Love himself submit to Friendship's Laws. -
But, if beneath thy Numbers foft Disguise,
Some favour'd Swain, fome true ALEXIS lyes;
If AMARYLLIS breaths thy fecret Pains;
And thy fond Heart beats Measure to thy Strains:
May'st thou, howe'er I grieve, for ever find
The Flame propitious, and the Lover kind:
May VENUS long exert her happy Pow's,
And make thy Beauty, like thy Verfe, endure::
May ev'ry God his friendly Aid afford;
PAN guard thy Fleck, and CERES bless thy Board.
But, if by chance the Series of thy Joys
Permit one Thought less chearful to arise;
Piteous transfer it to the mournful Swain,
Who loving much, who not belov'd again,
Feels an ill-fated Paffion's laft Excess;
And dies in Woe, that Thou may'st live in Peace.
She refusing to continue a Dispute with me, and leaving me in the Argument.
An O D E.
SPARE, Gen'rous Victor, fpare the Slave,
Who did unequal War purfue;
That more than Triumph He might have,
In being overcome by You.
In the Difpute whate'er I faid,
My Heart was by my Tongue bely'd; And in my Looks You might have read, How much I argu'd on your fide.
You, far from Danger as from Fear,
Might have fuftain'd an open Fight:
For feldom your Opinions err;
Your Eyes are always in the right.
Why, fair One, wou'd You not rely
On Reafon's Force with Beauty's join'd?
Cou'd I their Prevalence deny,
I must at once be Deaf and Blind.
Alas! not hoping to fubdue,
I only to the Fight afpir'd:
To keep the beauteous Foe in view
Was all the Glory I defir'd.
But She, howe'er of Vict'ry fure,
Contemns the Wreath too long delay'd ;, And, arm'd with more immediate Pow's, Calls cruel Silence to her Aid.
Deeper to wound, She fhuns the Fight:
She drops her Arms, to gain the Field:.
Secures her Conqueft by her Flight;
And triumphs, when She feems to yield.
So when the PARTHIAN turn'd his Steed,
And from the Hoftile Camp withdrew;
With cruel Skill the backward Reed
He fent; and as He fled, He flew.
Duke of ORMOND's Picture,
At Sir GODFREY KNELLER's.
OUT from the injur'd Canvas, KNELLER, fstrike.
These Lines too faint: the Picture is not like..
Exalt thy Thought, and try thy Toil again:
Dreadful in Arms, on LANDEN's glorious Plain
Place ORMOND's Duke: impendent in the Air
Let His keen Sabre, Comet-like, appear,
Where-e'er it points, denouncing Death: below
Draw routed Squadrons, 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 Breaft in Torrents flow'd,
He faints: His Steed no longer hears the Rein;
But stumbles o'er the Heap, His Hand had flain.
And now exhausted, bleeding, pale He lyes;
Lovely, fad Object! in His half-clos❜d Eyes'
Stern Vengeance yet, and Hoftile Terror ftand:
His Front yet threatens; and His Frowns command:
The Gallick Chiefs their Troops around Him call;
Fear to approach Him, tho' they see Him fall.-
O KNELLER, Could Thy Shades and Lights exprefs
The perfect Hero in that glorious Drefs;
Ages to come might ORMOND's Picture know;
And Palms for Thee beneath His Lawrels grow:
In spite of Time Thy Work might ever fine;
Nor HOMER'S Colours laft fo long as Thine.
Atque in Amore mala hac proprio, fumméque fecundo
WHAT can I fay, what Arguments can prove
My Truth, what Colours can describe my Love; If it's 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 beheld;
With eafie Smiles difpell'd the filent Fear,
That durft not tell Me, what I dy'd to hear:
In vain Iftrove to check my growing Flame;
Or shelter Paffion under Friendship's Name:
You faw my Heart, how it my Tongue bely'd;
And when You prefs'd, how faintly I deny'd----
E'er Guardian Thought cou'd bring its scatter'd Aid;
E'er Reafon cou'd fupport the doubting Maid;
My Soul furpriz'd, and from her self disjoin'd,
Left all, Referve, and all the Sex behind:
From your Command her Motions She receiv'd:
And not for Me, but You, She breath'd and liv'd.
But ever bleft be CYTHEREA's Shrine;
And Fires Eternal on Her Altars fhine;
Since Thy dear Breast has felt au equal Wound;
Since in Thy Kindness my Desires are crown'd.
By Thy each Look, and Thought, and Care, 'tis fhown,
Thy Joys are center'd All in Me Alone;
And fure I am, Thou wou'dft not change this Hour
For all the White ones, Fate has in it's Powr.---
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