Too aptly the afflicted Heathens prove
The Force, while they erect the Shrines of LovE.
His Mystic Form the Artizans of GREECE
In wounded Stone, or molten Gold exprefs:
And CYPRUS to his Godhead pays her Vow:
Faft in his Hand the Idol holds his Bow:
A Quiver by his Side fuftains a Store
Of pointed Darts; fad Emblems of his Pow'r:
A pair of Wings He has, which He extends
Now to be gone; which now again He bends
Prone to return, as best may serve his wanton Ends.
Entirely thus I find the Fiend pourtray'd,
Since firft, alas! I faw the beauteous Maid:
I felt Him ftrike; and now I fee Him fly:
Curs'd Dæmon! O! for ever broken lye
Those fatal Shafts, by which I inward bleed!
O! can my Wishes yet o'ertake thy Speed!
Tir'd may'ft Thou pant, and hang thy flagging Wing;
Except Thou turn'ft Thy Course, refolv'd to bring
The Dam'fel back, and fave the Love-fick King.
My Soul thus ftrugling in the fatal Net, Unable to enjoy, or to forget;
I reafon'd much, alas! but more I lov'd;
Sævus Amor: fluitante animo, mutabar in horas.
Curarum indomitus cum tandem involveret Æftus
Spe nudum, vici cedendo obftantia Fata.
Longa Dies curas paulatim abfterfit eundo,
Collectafque iterum Sapientia duxit habenas.
At brevia heu! longos abrumpunt otia luctus;
Tarda venit requies; celeri pede Cura recurrit.
Altera mox Virgo (fic invida fata volebant
Pascere idem in venis aliâ fub imagine vulnus)
Altera formofas Virgo comitata cohortes,
Quas inter vacuas fallebam fuaviter horas,
Ante alias femper fefe obtulit impigra, Juffa
Præveniens, motusque oculi fervabat herilis;
Abra (hoc nomen erat) comes adftitit ufque parato
Obfequio; prima acceffit, poftrema reliquit.
Abra animo vigili prævertit verba vocantis,
Et quamvis aliam accirem, tamen adfuit Abra.
Sollicito ardentem ftudio videre puellam Jamdudum æquales: rifum officiofa movebat Sedulitas; me verò haudquaquam infueta videntem
Impatiens labor ifte operofaque Cura latebat.
Dum tandem admonuit Fama, infolitofque miniftræ Ipfe etiam fenfi fervefcere confcius ignes.
Sent and recall'd, ordain'd and disapprov'd: 'Till hopeless plung'd in an Abyss of Grief, I from Neceffity receiv'd Relief:
Time gently aided to affwage my Pain;
And Wisdom took once more the flacken'd Rein.
But O how fhort My Interval of Woe!
Our Griefs how fwift; our Remedies how flow!
Another Nymph (for fo did Heav'n ordain,
To change the Manner, but renew the Pain)
Another Nymph, amongst the many Fair,
That made My fofter Hours their folemn Care,
Before the reft affected ftill to ftand;
And watch'd my Eye, preventing My Command.
ABRA, She fo was call'd, did foonest haft
To grace my Prefence; ABRA went the last:
ABRA was ready e'er I call'd her Name.
And tho' I call'd another, ABRA came.
Her Equals firft obferv'd her growing Zeal;
And laughing glofs'd, that ABRA ferv'd fo well.
To Me her Actions did unheeded dye,
Or were remark'd but with a common Eye;
'Till more appris'd of what the Rumour faid,
More I obferv'd peculiar in the Maid.
Cum Sol occiduum pronus jam fparferat ignem, Tranquillâ fub nocte negotia longa diei
Diluere, atque animo volui dare feffus habenas,
Fæmineis fecreta fovens convivia tectis.
Accumbens purgare manus luftralibus undis
(Sic veneranda jubent legum mandata) parabam.
Abra fuas tum fortè vices fortita, recentem
Ritè dabat lympham & dulces mifcebat odores.
Mox humiles demiffa genas & fupplice paffu Lenta aderat Virgo, pronoque in vertice dulces Infundens latices, trepidabat corpore toto. Jamque meos inhians vultus ardenfque tuendo, Confcia mox oculos raptim revocabat, & imo Necquicquam obluctans fufpiria corde trahebat. Unde, inquam, innocuæ veniant tibi, Nympha, dolores? Curarum vanâ cur ludis imagine? Vitæ
Secreto fic calle latens, Tu pectoris æftus
Noftin'? Tu curafque & gaudia, fpefque metufque?
Nimirùm tuto fub pectore, blandula Virgo,
Cor tibi molle latet, Veneris neque palpitat itu.
Erubuit, linguâ titubante locuta; Pudorque Ornavit fractam vocem & trepidantia verba.
The Sun declin'd had shot his Western Ray;
When tir'd with Bus'nefs of the folemn Day,
I purpos'd to unbend the Evening Hours,
And banquet private in the Women's Bow'rs.
I call'd, before I fat, to wash My Hands:
For fo the Precept of the Law commands.
LOVE had ordain'd, that it was ABRA's Turn
To mix the Sweets, and minifter the Urn.
With awful Homage, and fubmiffive Dread
The Maid approach'd, on my declining Head
To pour the Oyls: She trembled as She pour'd;
With an unguarded Look She now devour'd
My nearer Face: and now recall'd her Eye,
And heav'd, and ftrove to hide a sudden Sigh.
And whence, faid I, canft Thou have Dread, or Pain?
What can thy Imag'ry of Sorrow mean?
Secluded from the World, and all it's Care,
Haft Thou to grieve or joy, to hope or fear?
For fure, I added, fure thy little Heart
Ne'er felt LovE's Anger, or receiv'd his Dart.
Abash'd She blush'd, and with Disorder spoke :: Her rifing Shame adorn'd the Words it broke.
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