Abroad the labour, and at home the noife,
(Man's double fufferings for domeftic joys)
The curfe of jealoufy; expence and strife;
Divorce, the public brand of fhameful life;
The rival's fword; the qualm that takes the fair;;
Difdain for paffion, paffion in defpair-
Thefe, and a thoufand yet unnam'd, we find;
Ah fear the thousand yet unnam'd behind!
Thus on Panaffus tuneful Hefiod fung,
The mountain echoed, and the valley rung,
The facred groves a fix'd attention fhow,
The cryftal Helicon forbore to flow,
The fky grew bright, and (if his verfe be true)
The Mufes came to give the laurel too.
But what avail'd the verdant prize of wit,
If Love fwore vengeance for the tales he writ?
Ye Fair offended, hear your friend relate
What heavy judgment prov'd the writer's fate,
Though when it happen'd no relation clears,
Tis thought in five, or five and twenty years.
Where, dark and filent, with a twisted shade
The neighouring woods a native arbour made,
There oft a tender pair, for amorous play
Retiring, toy'd the ravish'd hours away;
A Locrian youth, the gentle Troilus he,
A fair Milefian, kind Evanthe fhe:
But, fwelling nature in a fatal hour
Betray'd the fecrets of the conscious bower; The dire difgrace her brothers count their own, And.track her steps, to make its author known.
It chanc'd one evening, 't was the lover's day,
Conceal'd in brakes the jealous kindred lay;
When Hefiod, wandering, mus'd along the plain,
And fix'd his feat where love had fix'd the scene
A ftrong fufpicion ftrait poffefs their mind.
(For Poets ever were a gentle kind),
But when Evanthe near the paffage ftood,
Flung back a doubtful look, and shot the wood,
"Now take (at once they cry) thy due reward."
And, urg'd with erring rage, affault the Bard.
His corpfe the fea receiv'd. The dolphins bore
(Twas all the Gods would do) the corpse to shore.
Methinks I view the dead with pitying eyes,
And fee the dreams of ancient wisdom rife;
I fee the Mufes round the body cry,
But hear a Cupid loudly laughing by;
He wheels his arrow with infulting hand,
And thus infcribes the moral on the fand.
"Here Hefiod lies: ye future Bards, beware
"How far your moral tales incenfe the Fair.
"Unlov'd, unloving, 't was his fate to bleed;
"Without his quiver, Cupid caus'd the deed;
"He judg'd this turn of malice justly due,
"And Hefiod dy'd for joys he never knew."
SON
WHEN thy beauty appears
In its graces and airs,
All bright as an angel new dropt from the sky;
At distance I gaze, and am aw'd by my fears,
So ftrangely you dazzle my eye!
But when without art,
Your kind thought you impart,
your love runs in blushes through every vein; When it darts from your eyes, when it pants in your heart,
Then I know you're a woman again.
There's a paffion and pride
In our fex, the reply'd,
And thus, might I gratify both, I would do:
Still an angel appear to each lover beside,
But ftill be a woman to you.
THYRSIS, a young and amorous swain,
Saw two, the beauties of the plain,
Who both his heart fubdue:
Gay Cælia's eyes were dazzling fair,
Sabina's easy shape and air
With fofter magic drew.,
He haunts the ftream, he haunts the grove,
Lives in a fond romance of love,
And feems for each to die;
Till, each a little spiteful grown,
Sabina Cælia's fhape ran down,
And the Sabina's eye.
envy made the fhepherd find
eyes which love could only blind;
So fet the lover free:
No more he haunts the grove or ftream,
Or with a true-love knot and name
Engraves a wounded tree.
Ah, Cælia! fly Sabina cry'd,
Though neither love, we're both deny'd;
Now to fupport the fex's pride,
Let either fix the dart.
Poor girl, fays Cælia, fay no more;
For fhould the fwain but one adore,
That fpite, which broke his chains before,
Would break the other's heart.
MY days have been fo wondrous free,
The little birds, that fly
With careless eafe from tree to tree,
Were but as blefs'd as I.
Ask gliding waters, if a tear
Of mine increas'd their ftream?
Or afk the flying gales, if e'er
I lent one figh to them?
But now my former days retire,
And I'm by beauty caught,
The tender chains of fweet defire
Are fix'd upon my thought.
Ye nightingales, ye twifting pines!"
Ye fwains that haunt the grove!
Ye gentle echoes, breezy winds!'
Ye clofe retreats of love!
With all of nature, all of art,
Affift the dear defign;
O teach a young, unpractis'd heart,
To make my Nancy mine.
The very thought of change I hate,
As much as of despair;
Nor ever covet to be great,
Unless it be for her.
'Tis true, the passion in my mind
Is mix'd with foft diftrefs;
Yet, while the fair I love is kind,
I cannot wish it lefs.
ANACREONTIC.
WHEN fpring came on with fresh delight,
To cheer the foul, and charm the fight,
While easy breezes, softer rain,
And warmer funs, falute the plain;
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