She fooths, but never can enthrall my Mind': Great Heav'n! how frail thy Creature Man is made! How by Himself infenfibly betray'd! In our own Strength unhappily fecure, We weave the Chaplet, and We crown the Bowl; 'Till the strong Gufts of raging Paffion rise; Our foolish Confidence too late We mourn: Round our devoted Heads the Billows beat; And from our troubled View the leffen'd Lands retreat. G 2 O latè dominator Amor! tua fceptra latentem Quà tutum exquiret Pectus mortale receffum? Quas paret Ingenium oppofitas tot fraudibus artes? Quæ varias aperire poteft Sapientia formas Infidiis veftris ritè infervire paratas, Cum miferos fævo meditaris perdere ludo? Nympha fuperba hodie, jactans fe, pulcra nocendi Arma palam induitur, belloque laceffit inermes: Elato vultu inceffuque patet Dea: ftat mens Inconcuffa, ferox, erectaque cafibus, audet Spernere terrena, & fati ridere furorem: Interea fcuto præcordia fepta virili Claudentes, dum non inhonefta Superbia munit; Ducimur egregiæ laudis muliebria Gesta Mirari, noftræ virtutis imagine capti.. Quæ placuiffe poteft, facili dulcedine vincet; Im O mighty Love! from thy unbounded Pow'r The haughty Nymph in open Beauty dreft, Here whilft we take ftern 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' Reason'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, Obrepunt, fimilique jubent languefcere luctu; Intimus hic, quo nec propior neque fævior alter, Jamque animæ victrix peramabilis Abra catenis Colla mihi captiva coercuit; Illa repletum 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 Breast: We raise the fad, and fuccour the diftrefs'd: And whilst our Wish prepares the kind Relief; Whilst 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 Bosoms arm, Which Tears can foften, and which Sighs can warm. Against this nearest crueleft of Foes, 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 |