II.

Pleas'd Cupid heard, and check'd his mother's pride:
And who's blind now, Mamma? the urchin cried.
'Tis Cloe's eye, and cheek, and lip, and breaft:
Friend Howard's genius fancied all the rest.

A S O N G.

F wine and mufick have the power

IF

To ease the fick nefs of the foul;
Let Phoebus every string explore;
And Bacchus fill the fprightly bowl.
Let them their friendly aid employ,
To make my Cloe's abfence light;
And feek for pleasure, to destroy
The forrows of this live-long night.

But fhe to-morrow will return:

Venus, be thou to-morrow great;
Thy myrtles ftrow, thy odours burn;

And meet thy favourite nymph in state.
Kind goddess, to no other powers

Let us to-morrow's bleffings own:

Thy darling loves shall guide the hours;
And all the day be thine alone.

THE

IN

Tantæne animis coeleftibus iræ ?" VIRG.

I.

N Virgil's facred verfe we find, That paffion can deprefs or raise The heavenly, as the human mind: Who dare deny what Virgil says?

II.

But, if they fhould, what our great mafter
Has thus laid down, my tale fhall prove :
Fair Venus wept the fad disaster

Of having lost her favourite Dove.

III.

In complaifance poor Cupid mourn'd;
His grief reliev'd his mother's pain;
He vow'd he 'd leave no ftone unturn'd,
But the fhould have her Dove again.
IV.

Though none, faid he, fhall yet be nam'd,
I know the felon well enough:
But be the not, Mamma, condemn'd
Without a fair and legal proof.

V.

With that, his longeft dart he took,
As conftable would take his staff:

That gods defire like men to look,
Would make ev'n Heraclitus laugh.

VOL. I.

I

VI. Love's

VI.

Love's fubalterns, a duteous band,

Like watchmen, round their chief appear:

Each had his lantern in his hand;

And Venus mask'd brought up the rear.

VII.

Accouter'd thus, their eager step

To Cloe's lodging they directed:
(At once I write, alas! and weep,
That Cloe is of theft suspected).
VIII.

Late they fet out, had far to go:
St. Dunstan's as they pass'd struck one.
Cloe, for reafons good, you know,
Lives at the fober end o' th' town.
IX.

With one great peal they rap the door,
Like footmen on a vifiting-day.

Folks at her house at fuch an hour!

Lord what will all the neighbours say?
X.

The door is open up they run :

Nor prayers, nor threats, divert their speed: Thieves! thieves! cries Sufan; we're undone; They'll kill my mistress in her bed.

XI.

In bed indeed the nymph had been
Three hours for, all hiftorians fay,
She commonly went up at ten,
Unlefs piquet was in the way.

XII. She

XII.

She wak'd, be fure, with strange surprize:

O Cupid, is this right or law, Thus to disturb the brightest eyes,

That ever flept, or ever faw?

XIII.

Have you obferv'd a fitting hare,
Listening, and fearful of the form

Of horns and hounds, clap back her ear,
Afraid to keep, or leave her form?
XIV.

Or have you mark'd a partridge quake,
Viewing the towering falcon nigh?
She cuddles low behind the brake:

Nor would the ftay: nor dares the fly.
XV.

Then have you feen the beauteous maid;
When gazing on her midnight foes,
She turn'd each way her frighted head,
Then funk it deep beneath the cloaths.
XVI.

Venus this while was in the chamber

Incognito for Susan faid,

:

It smelt so strong of myrrh and amber-
And Sufan is no lying maid.

XVII.

But, fince we have no prefent need
Of Venus for an episode :

With Cupid let us e'en proceed;
And thus to Cloe fpoke the god :

XVIII.

hand:

Hold up your head: hold up your
Would it were not my lot to fhew ye
This cruel writ, wherein you ftand
Indicted by the name of Cloe!

XIX.

For that, by fecret malice ftirr'd,
Or by an emulous pride invited,
You have purloin'd the favourite bird,
In which my mother moft delighted.
XX.

Her blushing face the lovely maid

Rais'd juft above the milk-white sheet;
A rofe-tree in a lily bed

Nor glows fo red, nor breathes fo sweet.
XXI.

Are you not he whom virgins fear,
And widows court? is not your name
Cupid? If so, pray come not near —

Fair maiden, I'm the very fame.

Or do with her you call your mother?

If I should meet her in my way,

We hardly court'fy to each other.
XXIII.

Diana chaste, and Hebe sweet,
Witness that what I fpeak is true:

I would not give my Paroquet
For all the Doves that ever flew.

XXIV. Yet,