In vain I ftrove to check my growing flaine, And fires eternal on her altars shine, Since thy dear breaft has felt an equal wound, By thy each look, and thought, and care, 'tis fhown 10 15 20 And fure I am thou wouldst not change this hour 25 Yet thus belov'd, thus loving to excefs, 30 35 40 And on this forehead, where your verse has said 45 The Loves delighted and the Graces play'd, Infulting Age will trace his cruel way, And leave fad marks of his ftructive fway. 50 Mov'd by my charms, with them your love may cease, And as the fuel finks the flame decrease; Or angry Heav'n may quicker darts prepare, And fickness strike what time a while would fpare: Then will my fwain his glowing vows renew? Then will his throbbing heart to mine beat true, When my own face deters me from my glass, And Kneller only fhows what Celia was? 55 Fantastic 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 obscur'd your rifing name, 60 And quickly cold indiff'rence will ensue. When you love's joys thro' honour's optic view. Then Celia's loudeft pray'r will prove too weak To this abandon'd breaft to bring you back: When my loft lover the tall fhip afcends, With mufic gay, and wet with jovial friends, The tender accents of a woman's cry Will pafs unheard, will unregarded die; When the rough feamen's louder fhouts prevail, When fair occafion fhows the fpringing gale, 65 70 And int'reft guides the helm, and honour fwells the fail. Some wretched lines from this neglected hand May find my hero on the foreign ftrand, Warn with new fires, and pleas'd with new command; While fhe who wrote them, of all joy bereft, 75 To the rude cenfure of the world is left, Her mangled fame in barb’rous pastime lost, 80 Sighs to my breaft and forrow to my eyes. 85 90 уб Another nymph, with fatal pow'r, may rife While blooming Love affures us golden fruit, ICO 105 Soon fail the flow'rs of joy, foon feeds of hatred fhoot. Or was it but the woman's fear that drew U 110 115 118 DAPHNE AND APOLLO. Imitated from the FIRST BOOK OF OVID'S METAMORPHOSES. Nympha, precur, Penei mane.--- Ovid. Met. Lib. I. APOLLO. ABATE, fair fugitive, abate thy speed, Difmifs thy fears, and turn thy beauteous head ; With kind regard a panting lover view; Some ftone may hurt thee, or fome thorn may wound. APOL. You fly, alas! not knowing whom you fly; Nor ill-bred fwain, nor rufty clown am I : I Claros' ifle and Tenedos command DAPH. Thank ye, I wou'd not leave my native land. APOL. What is to come by certain arts I know. 15 PAPH. Pih! Partridge has as fair pretence as you. APOL. Behold the beauty of my locks DAPH. -A fig That may be counterfeit, a Spanish wig: DAPH.-That never fhall be Daphne's choice. APOL. Of ev'ry herb I tell the mystic pow'r, DAPH-Ours is a wholefome air; You'd better go to Town and practise there : 20 25 30 APOL. For learning fam'd, fine verfes I compofe. DAPH. So do your brother quacks and brother beaux; Memorials only and reviews write profe. 35 APOL. From the bent yew I fend the pointed reed, Sure of its aim, and fatal in its speed. DAPH. Then leaving me, whom fure you would not In yonder thicket exercife your skill: [kill, Shoot there at beafts; but for the human heart 40 Your coufin Cupid has the only dart. APOL. Yet turn, O beauteous Maid, yet deign to hear A love-fick deity's impetuous pray'r O let me woo thee as thou would't be woo'd. DAPH. First, therefore, don't be fo extremely rude; Don't tear the hedges down and tread the clover, 46 Like an hobgoblin rather than a lover : At ebbing tide he always is at home. Next, to my father's grotto fometimes come, Read the Courant with him, and let him know ૩૦ A little politics, how matters go Upon his brother-rivers Rhine or Po. As any maid or footman comes or goes, Pull off your hat and ask how Daphne does : Thefe fort of folks will to each other tell 55 That you refpect me; that you know looks well: |