O mighty Love! from thy unbounded Pow'r
How fhall the human Bofom reft fecure?

How shall our Thought avoid the various Snare?
Or Wisdom to our caution'd Soul declare
The diffrent Shapes, Thou pleasest to imploy,
When bent to hurt, and certain to destroy?

The haughty Nymph in open Beauty dreft,
To-Day encounters our unguarded Breaft:
She looks with Majesty, and moves with State;
Unbent her Soul, and in Misfortune great,
She scorns the World, and dares the Rage of Fate.

Here whilft we take stern Manhood for our Guide, And guard our Conduct with becoming Pride; Charm'd with the Courage in her Action shown, We praise her Mind, the Image of our own. She that can please, is certain to perfwade: To-day belov'd, To-morrow is obey'd. We think we see thro' Reafon's Optics right; Nor find, how Beauty's Rays elude our Sight: Struck with her Eye, whilft We applaud her Mind; And when We speak Her great, We wish Her kind.

To

Improbe Amor, Nymphæ cras altera tela ministras,
Mærorem effufum & paffos fine lege capillos:
Voce querens humili ducit miferabile carmen,
Hærentifque vicem fupplent Sufpiria linguæ.
Concipit hinc generofa incendia pectus honeftum;
Tollimus afflictam sustentamusque jacentem:
Dumque animo facili properamus molle levamen,
Et lenit miferum Pietas humana dolorem;
Curarum intereà nobis contagia furtìm

Obrepunt, fimilique jubent, languefcere luctu;
Cingimus ah! fero munimine ductile pectus,
Cedere lacrymulæ gemituque liquefcere pronum.

Intimus hic, quo nec propior neque fævior alter, Quâ fraude elufus, quâ vi turbabitur Hoftis? Unde tibi auxilium, fragilis Natura, ciebis, Nunc facili ingenio, nimio nunc prodita fastu? An licet externam fperare aliunde medelam, Cum Pectus fallax internum admiferit hoftem? Ille intùs domitam Rationem illudere gaudet, Palantifque Ducis cæcus veftigia flectit.

Jamque animæ victrix peramabilis Abra catenis Colla mihi captiva coercuit; Illa repletum

Pof

To-morrow, cruel Pow'r, Thou arm'ft the Fair With flowing Sorrow, and difhevel'd Hair: Sad her Complaint, and humble is her Tale, Her Sighs explaining where her Accents fail. Here gen'rous Softness warms the honest Breaft: We raise the fad, and fuccour the diftrefs'd: And whilft our Wish prepares the kind Relief; Whilft Pity mitigates her rifing Grief: We ficken foon from her contagious Care; Grieve for her Sorrows, groan for her Despair; And against Love too late those Bofoms arm, Which Tears can foften, and which Sighs can warm.

Against this nearest crueleft of Foes,

What shall Wit meditate, or Force oppose?
Whence, feeble Nature, fhall We fummon Aid;

If by our Pity, and our Pride betray'd?

External Remedy shall We hope to find,

When the close Fiend has gain'd our treach'rous Mind; Infulting there does Reasons Pow'r deride;

And blind Himself, conducts the dazl'd Guide?

My Conqueror now, my lovely ABRA held My Freedom in her Chains: my Heart was fill'd

Poffedit mihi cor, Illa unica; Spefque voluptafque
Omnis in Illâ affixa pependit: ut abfuit Illa,
Multa moram incufans gemitus lugubrè profudi;
Ocyus Illa redux gemitus luctufque fugavit:
Nox orta eft, abeunte; Dies, veniente, refulfit.

Ordine Conventus, Scenæ, ludique fequuntur
Larvati: facit Illa melos, facit Illa choreas:
Tot formas habitufque novos induta nitescit,
Fingere quot nôrit vario mens prodiga luxu.

In campo dominata hodiè fub tegmine palmæ Veftra arma & veftros fibi, Debora, fumit amictus; Victricique fedet frontem circumdata lauro:

Ipfe inftar Baraci veftigia pronus adoro:
Turba Illi fictos canit obfequiofa triumphos,

Illam effert clademque Hofti Patriæque columnam.

Cras mitem induitur faciem morefque ferenos, Splendenti Martis pompâ & terrore relictis; Molliùs incedens Mulier jam ruftica, Villâ Egreditur, Regemque adducto munere vifit. Depofitis Agmen juvenile micantibus armis Collatum certant cantando rependere munus;

Dum

With Her, with Her alone: in Her alone
It fought it's Peace and Joy: while She was gone,
It figh'd, and griev'd, impatient of her Stay:
Return'd, She chas'd thofe Sighs, that Grief away:
Her Abfence made the Night: her Prefence brought
[the Day.

The Ball, the Play, the Mask by Turns fuccede.
For Her I make the Song: the Dance with Her I lead.
I court Her various in each Shape and Dress,
That Luxury may form, or Thought-express.

To-day beneath the Palm-tree on the Plains
In DEBORAH's Arms and Habit ABRA reigns:
The Wreath denoting Conqueft girds her Brow:
And low, like BARAK, at her Feet I bow.
The Mimic Chorus fings her profp'rous Hand;
As She had flain the Foe, and fav'd the Land.

To-morrow She approves a fofter Air;
Forfakes the Pomp and Pageantry of War:
The Form of peaceful ABIGAIL affumes;
And from the Village with the Present comes:
The Youthful Band depose their glitt'ring Arms;
Receive her Bounties, and recite her Charms;