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But who o'er night obtain'd her grace,
No, as the wing'd musicians of the grove, She can next day disown,
Th' associates of my melody and love, And stare upon the strange man's face,
In moving sound alone relate their pain, As one she ne'er had known.
And not with voice articulate complain; So well she can the truth disguise,
So shall my Muse my tuneful sorrows sing, Such artful wonder frame,.
And lose in air her name from whom they spring. The lover or distrusts his eyes,
() may no wakeful thoughts her mind molest,
Soft be her slumbers, and sincere her rest : Or thinks 'twas all a dreain.
For her, O Sleep! thy balmy sweets prepare; Some censure this as lewd and low,,
The peace I lose for ber, to her transfer. Who are to bounty blind ;
Hush'd as the falling dews, whose noiseless showers For to forget what we bestow
Impearl the folded leaves of evening flowers, Bespeaks a noble mind.
Steal on her brost : and as those dews attend,
Till warn’d by waking Day to re-ascend, Doris our thanks nor asks, nor needs:
So wait thou for her morn; then gently rise, For all her favours done
And to the world restore the day-break of her eyes From her love fow, as light proceeds
Spontaneous from the Sun.
TO SIR GODFREY KNELLER,
LY 'S PICTURE
Thy pencil triunpiis o'er the poet's quill:
If yet my vanquish'd Muse exert her lays,
Oft have I try'd, with unavailing care,
To trace some image of the much-lov'd fair;
But still my nuinbers ineffectual prov'd, How soon a troubled breast thy falselrood finds ?
And rather show'd how much, than whom, I lov'd; Thou common friend, officious in thy aid, Where no distress is shown, nor want betray'd :
But thy unerring hands, with matchless art, But oh! how swift, how sure thou art to shun
Have shown my eyes th' impression in my heart, The wretch by fortune or by love undone !
The bright idea both exists and lives, Where are thy gentle dews, thy softer powers,
Such vital heat thy genial pencil gives : Which us'd to wait upon my midnight hours?
Whose daring point, not to the face confin'd, Why dost thou ccase thy hovering wings to spread, Can penetrate the heart, and paint the mind!
Others soine faint resemblance may express, With friendly shade, around my restless beca?
Which, as 'tis drawn by chance, we find by guess Can no complainings thy compassiou more?
Thy pictures raise no doubts; when brought to Is thy antipathy so strong to lose? ( no! thou art the prosperous lover's friend,
view, And dost, uncallid, his pleasing toils attend.
At once they're known, and seem to know us too.
Transcendent artist! how complete thy skill! Uith equal kinolness, and with rival charnis, Thy slumbers lull bim in his fair-one's arms;
Thy power to act is equal to thy will.
Nature and Art in thee alike contend,
Not to oppose each other, but befriend ;
For what thy fancy has with fire desigu'd, Till soft repose restore his drooping sense,
Is by thy skill both temper'd and refin'd.
As in thy pictures light consents with shade, And rapture is reliev'd by indolence.
And each to other is subscrvient made, But oh! what torture does the lover bear,
Judgment and genius so concur in thee,
And both unite in perfect harmony.
But after-days, my friend, must do thee right,
Yet thou, in present, the best part hast gain'd, For oft I hare thy proffer'd aid repell'd,
And from the chosen few applause obtain'd: And my reluctant eyes from rest withheld; Ev'n he who best could judge, and best could Implor'd the Muse to break thy gentle ehains,
Let that alone suffice thee, think that fame.
Unit I follow where he led the way,
For 'tis some virtue, virtue to commend;
Virtue herself a goddess we confess,
Both female in her name and in her dress;
No wonder, then, if, to her sex incliud,
She cultivates with care a female mind.
Of that soft art which I pretend to teach. Thou faithful witness of my secret pain,
My tender bark requires a gentle gale, To whom alone I venture tv complain;
A little wind will fill a little sail. O learn with me my hopeless love to moan;
Of sportive Loves I sing, and show what ways Commiserate a life so like thy own.
The willing nymph must use her bliss to raise, Like thine, my tiames to my destruction turn, And how to captivate the man she'd please. Wasting that heart by which supply'd they burn. Woman is soft, and of a tender heart, Like thine, my joy and suffering they display;
Apt to receive, and to retain, Love's dart: At once are signs of life, and symptoms of decay.
Man has a breast robust, and more secure, And as thy fearful fames the day decline,
It wounds him not so deep, nor hits so sure. And only during night presume to shine ;
Men oft are false ; and, if you search with care, Their humble rays not daring to aspire
You'll find less fraud imputed to the fair. Before the Sun, the fountain of their fire :
The faithless Jason from Medea fled, So mine, with conscious shame, and equal awe,
And made Creusa partner of his bed. To shades obscure, and solitude, withdraw;
Bright Ariadne, on an unknown shore, Nor Jare their light before her eyes disclose,
Thy absence, perjur'd Theseus, did deplore.
If, then, the wild inhabitants of air
Why Phyllis by a fate untimely fell.
Nine times, in vain, upon the promis'd day,
She sought th' appointed shore, and view'd the sea : THE ART OF LOVE,
Her fall the fading trees consent to mourn,
And shed their leaves round her lamented urn. TRANSLATED INTO ENGLISH VERSL.
The prince so far for piety renown'd,
To thee, Eliza, was unfaithful found;
To thee, forlorn and languishing with grief,
THE VAIR-SEX IN THE CONDUCT OF THEIR AMOURS; Ye ruin'd nymphs, shall I the cause impart AFTER HAVING ALRFADY COMPOSED TWO BOOKS FOR Of all your woes? 'Twas want of necdful art. THE USE OF MEN UPON THE SAME SUBJECT.
Love of itself too quickly will expire;
But powerful Art perpetuates desire. The men are arm’d, and for the fight prepare ; Women had yet their ignorance bewail'd, And now we must instruct and arm the fair. Had not this art by Venus been reveal'd. well appointed, take the field,
Before my sight the Cyprian goddess shone, And mighty Love determine which shall yield. And thus she said—“What have poor women done? Man were ignoble, when thus armı'd, to show Why is that weak, defenceless sex expos’d, Unequal force against a naked foe :
On every side, by men well arm’d, enclos'd? No glory from such conquest can be gain'd, Twice are the men instructed by the Muse, And olds are always by the brave disdain'd. Nor must she now to teach the sex refuse. But some exclaiin—“ What phrenzy rules your The bard, who injur'd Helen in his song, mind?
Recanted after, and redress'd the wrong. Wonld you increase the craft of woman-kind ! And you, if on my favour you depend, Teach them new wiles and arts! As well you inay The cause of women, while you live, dcfend. Instruct a snake to bite, or wolf to prey."
This said, a myrtle sprig, which berries bore, But, sure, too hard a censure they pursue, She gave me (for a myrtle wreath she wore). Who charge on all the failings of a few.
The gift receiv'd, my sense enlighten'd grew, Examine first impartially each fair,
And froin her presence inspiration drew. Then, as she merits, or condemn, or spare. Attend, ye nymphs, by wedlock uncenfin'd, If Menelaus, and the king of men,
And hear my precepts, while she prompts my mind : With justice of their sister-wives complain ; Er'n now, in bloom of youth, and beauty's prime, If false Eriphyle forsook her faith,
Beware of coming age, nor waste your time : And for reward procur'd her husband's death; Now, while you may, and ripening years invite, Penelope was loyal still, and chaste,
Enjoy the seasonable, sweet delight: 'Though twenty years her lord in absence pass’d. For rolling years, like stealing waters, glide ; Reflect how Landama's truth was try'd,
Nor hope to stop their ever-ehbing tide: Who, though in bloom of youth, and beauty's pride, Think not hereafter will the loss repay; To share her husband's fate, untimely dy'd. For every morrow will the taste decay, Think how Alceste's piety was prov'd,
And leave less relish than the former day. Who lost her life to save the man she lov'd. I've seen the time, when, on that wither'd thorn, " Receive me, Capancus," Avadne cry'd ;
The blooming rose vied with the blushing morn. “ Nor death itself our nuptials shall divide: With fragrant wreaths I thence have deck'd my To join thy ashes, pleas'd I shall expire:”
head, She said, and leap'd amid the funeral tire,
And see how leafloss now, and how decay'd!
And you, who now the love-sick youth reject, Let ancient manners other men delight;
Not that materials now in gold are wrought, Nor wake, to strew your street with morning And distant shores for orient pearls are sought : fiowers.
Nor for, that hills exhaust their marble veins, Then nightly knockings at your door will cease, And structures rise whose bulk the sea restrains ; Whose noiseless hammer, then, may rust in peace. But, that the world is civiliz'd of late,
Alas!. how soon a clear complexion fades ! And pol'sh'd from the rust of former date.
Nor in embroidery, or brocade, appear;
And cleanliness more animates Love's fire
The hair dispos'd, may gain or lose a grace, The snake his skin, the deer his horns may cast, And much become, or misbecome, the face. And both renew their youth and vigours past : What suits your features, of your glass inquire; But no receipt oan human-kind relieve,
For no one rule is fix'd for head-attire. Doom'd to decrepit age without reprieve.
A face too long should part and flat the hair, Then crop the flower which yet invites your eye,
Lest, ipward comb'd, the length too much appear; And which, ungather'd, on its stalk must die. So Laodamia dress'd, A face too round Besides, the tender sex is form'd to bear,
Should show the ears, and with a tower be crown'd, And frequent births too soon will youth impair : On either shoulder, one her locks displays; Continual harvest wears the fruitful field,
Adorn'd like Phæbus, when he sings his lays: And earth itself decays, too often till'd.
Another, all her tresses ties behind;
Dishevell'd locks most graceful are to some;
Others, the binding fillets more become: So deeply monrn'd, and who laments bim yet, Some plait, like spiral shells, their braided hair, Has not been found inexorable since;
Others, the loose and waving curl prefer. Wimess Harinonía, and the Dardan prince.
But to recount the sevcral dresses worn,
Which artfully each several face adorn,
Many there are, who seem to slight all care,
With such disorder lole was grac'd, Who would, to light a torch, their torch deny ? When great Alcides first the nymph embrac'd. Or who can dread drinking an ocean dry?
So Ariadne came to Bacchus' bed, “ Still women lose,” you cry, “ if men obtain;" When with the conqueror from Crete she fled. What do they lose, that's worthy to retain ?
Nature, indulgent to the sex, repays Think not this said to prostitute the sex,
The losses they sustain, by various ways. But undeceive whom needless fears perplex. Men ill supply those hairs they shed in age,
Thus far a gentle breeze supplies our sail, Lost, like autumnal leaves, when north winds rage, Now lanch'd to sea, we ask a brisker gale.
Women, with juice of herbs, grey locks disguise, And, first, we treat of dress. The well dress'd vine | And Art gives colour which with Nature vies. Produces plumpest grapes, and richest wine; The well-wove towers they wear, their own are And plenteous crops of golden grain are found,
thought; Alone, to grace well-cultivated ground.
But only are their own, as what they've bought, Beauty's the gift of gods, the sex's pride!
Nor need they blush to buy heads ready dress'd, Yet to how many is that gift deny'd?
And ohoose, at public shops, what suits them beste Art helps a face; a face, though heavenly fair, Costly apparel let the fair-one fly, May quickly fade for want of needful care.
Enrich'd with gold, or with the Tyrian dye.
What folly must in such expense appear,
Such as, through air serene, the sky we view. Ajax, to shield his ample breast, provides
With yellow lustre see another spread, Seven lusty bulls, and tans their sturdy hides ; As if the golden-fleece compos'd the thread. And might not he, d'ye think, be well caress'd, Some of the sea-green wave the cast display; And yet his wife not elegantly dress'd ?
With this the nymphs their beauteous forms array: With rude simplicity Rome first was built,
And some the saffron bue will well adorn; Which now we see adorn'd, and carv'd, and gilt, Such is the mantle of the blushing Morn. This capital with that of old compare ;
Of myrtle-berries, one the tincture shows; Some other Jove, you'd think, was worshipp'd there. In this, of amethysts, the purple grows, That lofty pile, where senates dictate law,
And that more imitates the paler rose. When Tatius reign'd, was poorly thatch'd with Nor Thracian cranes forget, whose silvery plume straw.
Give patterns, which employ the mimic looms, And where Apollo's fane refulgent stands,
Nor almond, nor the chesnut dye disclaim; Was heretofore a track of pasture-lands,
Nor others, which from wax derive their name.
As fields you find, with various flowers o'erspread, Or in the fane of the good goddess dress, When vineyards bud, and winter's frost is filed; Where all the male-kind are debarr'd access. So various are the colours you may try,
'Tis said, that I (but 'tis a tale devis'd) Of which the thirsty wool imbibes the dye. A lady at her toilet once surpris'd; Try every one: what best becomes you, wear; Who, starting, snatch'd in haste tbe tower she wore, For no complexion all alike can bear.
And, in a hurry, plac'd the hinder part before. If fair the skin, black may become it best, But on our foes fall every such disgrace, In black the lovely fair Briseis dress'd:
Or barbarous beauties of the Parthian race. If brown the nymph, let her be cloth'd in white, Ungraceful 'tis to see without a horn Andromeda so charm'd the wondering sight. The lofty hart, whom branches best adorn;
I need not warn you of too powerful smells, A leafless tree, or an unverdant mead; Which sometimes health, or kindly heat, expels. And as ungraceful is a hairless head. Nor, from your tender legs to pluck with care
But think not these instructions are design'd The casual growth of all unscemiy hair.
For first-rate beauties of the finish'd kind : Thongh not to nymphs of Caucasus ( sing,
Not to a Semele, or Leda bright, Nor such who taste remote the Mysian spring; Nor an Europa, these my rules I write; Yet, let me warn you, that, through no neglect, Nor the fair Helen do I teach, whose charms You let your teeth disclose the least defect. Stirr'd up Atrides, and all Greece, to arms : You know the use of white to make you fair, Thee to regain, well was that war begun, And how, with red, lost colour to repair,
And Paris well defended what he won ; Imperfect eye-brows you by art can mend, What lover, or what husband, would not fight And skin, when wanting, o'er a scar extend. In such a cause, where both are in the right? Nor need the fair-one be asham'd, who tries, The crowd I teach, some homely, and some fair, By art, to add new lustre to her eyes.
But, of the former sort, the larger share. A little book I've made, but with great care, The handsome least require the help of Art, How to preserve the face, and how repair. Rich in themselves, and pleas'd with Nature's part. In that, the nymphs, by time or chance annoy'd, When calm the sea, at ease the pilot lies, May see, what pains to please them l've employ'd. But all his skill exerts when storins arise. But, still beware, that from your lover's eye Faults in your person, or your face, correct : You keep conceal'd the med'cines you apply: And few are seen that have not some defect. Though art assists, yet must that art be hid, The nymph too short, her seat should seldom quit, Lest, whom it would invite, it should forbid. Lest, when she stands, she may be thought to sit ; Who would not take offence, to see a face And when extended on her couch she lies, All daub’d, and dripping with the melted grease? Let length of petticoats conceal her size. And tho' your unguents bear th’ Athenian name, The lean of thick-wrought stuff her clothes should The wool's unsavoury scent is still the same.
choose, Marrow of stags, nor your pomatums try,
And fuller made, than what the plumper use. Nor clean your furry tecth, when men are by; If pale, let her the crimson juice apply, For many things, when done, afford delight, If sa arthy, to the Pharian varnish fly. Which yet, while doing, may offend the sight. A leg too lank, tight garters still must wear ; Ev'n Myro's statues, which for art surpass
Nor should an ill-shap'd foot be ever bare. All others, once were but a shapeless mass; Round shoulders, bolster'd, will appear the least; Rude was that gold which now in rings is worn, And lacing strait, confines too full a breast. As once the robe you wear was wool unshorn. Whose fingers are too fat, and nails too coarse, Think, how that stone rough in the quarry grew, Should always shun inuch gesture in discourse. Which, now, a perfect Venus shows to view. And you, whose breath is touch'd, this caution take, While we suppose you sleep, repair your face, Nor tasting, nor too near another, speak. Lock'd from observers, in some secret place. Let not the nymph with laughter inuch abound, Add the last hand, before yourselves you show; Whose teeth are black, uneven, or unsound. Your need of art, why should your lovers know? You hardly think how much on this depends, For many things, when most conceal'd, are best; And how a laugh, or spoils a face, or mends. And few of strict inquiry bear the test.
Gape not too wide, lest you disclose your gums, Those figures which in theatres are seen,
And lose the dimple which the cheek becomes. Gilded without, are common wood within.
Nor let your sides too strong concussions shake, But no spectators are allow'd to pry,
Lost you the softness of the sex forsake. Till all is finish'd, which allures the eye.
In some, distortions quite the face disguise ; Yet, I must own, it oft affords delight,
Another laughs, that you would think she cries. To have the fair-one coinb her hair in sight; In one, too hoarse a voice we hear betray'd, To view the Howing honours of her head
Another's is as harsh as if she bray'd. Fall on her neck, and o'er her shoulder spread. What cannot art attain! Many, with ease, But let her look, that she with care avoid
Hare learn’d to weep, both when and how they All fretful humours, while she's so employ'd;
Noglect no means which may promote your ends ;
Let her who has no hair, or has but some, One has an artful swing and jnt behind, Plant contine'ls bofore her dressing-room :
Which helps her coats to catch the swelling wind;
Swell'd with the wanton wind, they loosely flow, Soft recreations fit the female kind;
To wield the sword, and hurl the pointed spear; Strides all the space her petticoat allows.
To stop or turn the steed in full career. Between extremes, in this, a mcan adjust ;
Though martial fields ill suit your tender frames, Nor show too nice a gait, nor too robust.
Nor may you swim in Tiber's rapid streams; If snowy white your neck, you still should wear Yet when Sol's burning wheels from Leo drive, That, and the shoulder of the left arm, bare, And at the glowing Virgin's sign arrive, Such sights ne'er fail to fire my amorous heart, 'Tis both allow'd and fit you should repair And make me pant to kiss the naked part. To pleasant walks, and breathe refreshing air. Syrens, though monsters of the stormy majn, To Pompey's gardens, or the shady groves Can ships, when under sail, with songs detajn : Which Cæsar honours, and wbich Phæbus loves; Scarce could Ulysses by his friends be bound, Phæbus, who sunk the proud Egyptiau Acet, When first he listen'd to the charming sound. And made Augustus' victory complete. Singing insinuates : learn, all ye maids;
Or seek those shades, where monuments of fame Oft, when a face forbids, a voice persuades, Are rais'd, to Livia's and Octavia's name; Whether on theatres loud strains we hear,
Or where Agrippa first adorn'd the ground,
When he with naval victory was crowu'd.
And in the Circus see the noble sport.
In vain you're fair, while you remain unknown.
Had not Apelles drawn the sea-born queen, The dolphin, dumb itself, thy voice admir'd, Hor beauties still beneath the waves had been. And was, Arion, by thy songs inspir’d.
Poets, inspir'd, write only for a name, Of sweet Callimachus the works rehearse,
And think their labours well repay'd with fame. And read Philetas' and Anacreon's verse.
In former days, I own, the poets were Terentian plays may inuch the mind improve; Of gods and kings the most peculiar care ; But softest Sappho best instructs to love.
Majestic awe was in the name allow'd, Propertius, Gallus, and Tibullus road,
And they with rich possessions were endow'd. And let Varronian verse to these succeed.
Ennius with honours was by Scipio grac'd, Then mighty Maro's work with care peruse ;
And, vext his own, the poet's statue plac'd. Of all the Latin bards the noblest Muse.
But now their ivy crowns bear no esteem, Ev'n I, 'tis possible, in after-days,
And all their learning's thought an idle cream. May 'scape oblivion, and be namn'd with these. Still, there's a pleasure, that proceeds from praise; My labour'd lines some readers may approve,
What could the high reno in of Homer raise, Since I've instructed either sex in love.
But that he sung his lliver's deathless lays ? Whatever book you read of this soft art,
Who could have been of Danac's charms assurd, Read with a lover's voice, and lorer's heart. Had she grown old, within her tower immurd ? Tender epistles, too by me are fram’d,
This, as a rule, let every nymph pursue; A work before unthonght-of, and unnam'd.
That 'tis her interest oft to come in view, Such was your sacred will, O tuneful Nine !
A hungry wolf at all the herd will run, Such thine, Apollo ! and, Lyæus, thine!
In hopes, through many, to make sure of one. Still unaccomplish'd may the maid be thought, So let the fair the gazing crowd assail, Who gracefully to dance was never taught : That over one, at least, she may prevail. That active dancing may to love engage,
In every place to please, be all her thought? Witness the well-kept dancers of the stage Where, sonetimes, least we think, the fish is Of some old trifes I'm asham'd to tell,
caught. Though it becomes the sex to trifle well;
Sometimes, all day, we hunt the tedious foil; To raffle prettily, or slur a dye,
Inon, the stag himself shall seek the toil. Implies both cunning and dexterity.
How could Andromeda once doubt relief, Nor is't amiss at chess to be expert,
Whose charms are heightend and adoru'd by For games most thoughtful, sometimes, most divert. grief? Learn every game, you'll find it prore of use : The widou'd fair, who sees her lord expire, Parties begun at play, may love produce.
While yet she weeps, may kindle new desire, But easier 'tis to learn how bets to lay,
And Hymnen's torch re-light with funeral fire. Than how to keep your temper while you play.
Beware of men who are too sprucely dress'd: Ungvarded then each breast is open laid,
And look, you fly with speed a fop profess'd. And while the head's intent, the heart's betray'd. Such tools, to you, and to a thousand more, Then base desire of gain, then rage, appears, Will tell the same dull story o'er and o'er. Quarrels and brawls arise, and anxious fears; This way and that, unsteadily they rove, Then clamours and revilings reach the sky,
And, never fix'd, arc fugitives in love. While losing gamesters all the gods defy.
Such Huttering things all women sure should hate, Then horrid 0:ths are utter'd every cast,
Light as themselves, and more effi
sinate. They grieve, and curse, and storin, nay, weep at Believe me, all I say is for your good; last.
Tlad Priam been believal Troy still had stond. Good Jove, avert such shameful faults as these Many with base designs, will passion feigu, From every nymph, whose heart's inclin'd to please. Who kinow pu lure, but suruid lure ut gain