2. Not the wild Herd of Nymphs and Swains, Not fordid Souls of Earthy Mould So two rich Mountains of Peru, 4. Not the mad Tribe that Hell infpires On Etna's Top-let Furies wed, arble Nor the dull Pairs whofe Marble Forms, Logs of green Wood that quench the Coals, 6. Not Minds of melancholy Strain, As well may heavenly Conforts fpring, 7. Nor can the foft Enchantments hold Sampfon's young Foxes might as well Nor let the cruel Fetters bind For Love abhors the Sight: 9. Two kindest Souls alone must meet, CXII. The Indian Philofopher: By the fame Author. I. WHY fhould our Joys transform to Pain? Why gentle Hymen's filken Chain A plague of Iron prove? Bendi, 'tis ftrange the Charm that binds Millions of Hands, fhould leave their Minds At fuch a loose from Love. 2. In vain I fonght the wond'rous Caufe, 3. O'er the broad Lands, and crofs the Tide Till on the Banks of Gange's Flood Hard by a Venerable Priest Ris'n with his God the Sun from Reft 5. He fung th' eternal rolling Flame, 6. The mighty Power that form'd the Mind One Mould for every Two defign'd, And blefs'd the New-born Pair: This be a Match for this: He faid, Then down he fent the Souls he made To feek them Bodies here. 7. But parting from their warm Abode, Ah cruel Chance, and croffing Fates! 8. Happy the Youth that finds the Bride But oh the Crouds of wretched Souls, 9. Thus fang the wond'rous Indian Bard; 10. Some courteous Angel, tell me where, Swift as the Wheel of Nature rolls CXIII. The CXIII. The Four Seafons of the Year. SPRING. " Erceiv'ft thou not the procefs of the Year, How the Four Seafons in four Forms appear, Refembling human Life in every Shape they wear.. Spring firft, like Infancy, Shoots out her Head, With milky Juice requiring to be fed : Helpless, tho' fresh, and wanting to be led. The green Stent grows in Stature and in Size, But only feeds with Hope the Farmer's Eyes, Then laughs the childifh year with Flourets crown'd, And lavithly perfumes the Fields around, But no fubftantial Nourishment receives, Infirm the Stalks, unfolid are the Leaves. CXIV. SUMMER.. PRoceeding onward whence the year began, The Summer grows adult, ripens into Man. CXV. Autumn, or Fall of the Leaf. Utumn fucceeds, a fober tepid Age, Not froze with Fear, nor boyling into Rage; P Mo |