Where-e'er fhe turn'd, the pulses beat With new recruits of genial heat; And in her train the birds appear, To match for all the coming year. And vi'lets intermix'd a blue, She finds the boy she went to find But all unfeather'd wait to fly. When they met, the Dame and Boy, Dancing Graces, idle Joy, Wanton Smiles, and airy Play, Confpir'd to make the scene be gay; 'Tis thus, when spring renews the blood, Which fuits each proper turn of mind. The gen'rous hearts accept their doom: For careful dames and frugal men, All All this (as late I chanc'd to rove) And fee, fays Love, who call'd me near, How both fupport a proper part, She gives the feather, I the dart: My weapon there unfeather'd flies, And shakes and fhuffles thro' the skies. But if the mutual charms I find By which she links you mind to mind, And strike from both, through both your hearts. ANACREONTIC. AY Bacchus liking Eftcourt's wine, GA A noble meal bespoke us; And for the guest that were to dine, The God near Cupid drew his chair, Near Comus, Jocus plac'd; For wine makes Love forget its care, And mirth exalts a feast. The more to please the sprightly God, Put on fone cloaths to come abroad, Then Cupid nam'd at every glass, A lady of the fky; While Bacchus fwore he'd drink the lafs, And had it bumper-high. Fat Comus toft his brimmers o'er, Jocus took care to fill him more, Whene'er he mift the toaft. They They call'd and drank at every touch; He fill'd and drank again ; And if the Gods can take too much, 'Tis faid, they did fo then. Gay Bacchus little Cupid ftung, By reck'ning his deceits; And Cupid mock'd his stamm'ring tongue, And Jocus droll'd on Comus' ways, And tales without a jeft; While Comus call'd his witty plays But waggeries at best. Such talk foon fet them all at odds; And, had I Homer's pen, I'd fing ye, how they drank like Gods, And how they fought like men. |