Page images
PDF
EPUB

Dear couz, faid Hermes in a fright,

For Heaven's fake! keep your darts: good night.

On BEAUTY, a RIDDLE.

RESOLVE me, Cloe, what is this:
Or forfeit me one precious kifs.
"Tis the firft offspring of the Graces;
Bears different forms in different places;
Acknowledg'd fine, where'er beheld;
Yet fancied finer, when conceal'd.
'Twas Flora's wealth, and Circe's charm;
Pandora's box of good and harm:
"Twas Mars's wifh, Endymion's dream ;
Apelles' draught, and Ovid's theme.
This guided Thefeus through the maze;
And fent him home with life and praise :
But this undid the Phrygian boy;
And blew the flames that ruin'd Troy.
This fhew'd great kindness to old Greece,
And help'd rich Jason to the fleece.

This through the Eaft juft vengeance hurl'd,
And loft poor Anthony the world.
Injur'd, though Lucrece found her doom,
This banish'd tyranny from Rome.
Appeas'd, though Lais gain'd her hire;
This fet Perfepolis on fire.

For this Alcides learn'd to fpin:

His club laid down, and lion's skin.

For

For this Apollo deign'd to keep,
With fervile care, a mortal's sheep.
For this the father of the Gods,
Content to leave his high abodes,
In borrow'd figures loosely ran,
Europa's bull, and Leda's fwan,
For this he reaffumes the nod

(While Semele commands the God);
Launces the bolt, and fhakes the poles;
Though Momus laughs, and Juno fcolds.
Here liftening Cloe fmil'd, and faid;
Your riddle is not hard to read :
I guess it-Fair-one, if you do ;
Need I, alas! the theme purfue?
For this, thou fee'ft, for this I leave,
Whate'er the world thinks wife or grave,
Ambition, bufinefs, friendship, news,
My useful books, and ferious Muse.
For this, I willingly decline

The mirth of feafts, and joys of wine;
And chufe to fit and talk with thee
(As thy great orders may decree)

Of cocks and bulls, and flutes and fiddles,
Of idle tales, and foolish riddles.

THE

THE

QUESTION,

To LISETTA.

WHAT Nymph fhould I admire, or truft,

But Cloe beauteous, Cloe juft ?

What Nymph fhould I defire to fee,
But her who leaves the plain for me?
To whom should I compose the lay,
But her who liftens when I play?
To whom in fong repeat my cares,
But her who in my forrow fhares?
For whom should I the garland make,
But her who joys the gift to take,
And boasts she wears it for my fake?
In love am I not fully bleft?
Lifetta, pr'ythee tell the reft.

LISET TA'S

REPLY.

SURE Cloe juft, and Cloe fair,

Deferves to be your only care:

But, when you and the to-day
Far into the wood did ftray,

And I happen'd to pass by;
Which way did you caft your eye?
But, when your cares to her you fing,
Yet dare not tell her whence they fpring;

}

Docs

Does it not more afflict your heart,
That in those cares the bears a part?
When you the flowers for Cloe twine,
Why do you to her garland join

The meanest bud that falls from mine?
Simpleft of swains! the world may fee,
Whom Cloe loves, and who loves me.

}

ТНЕ

GARLAND..

THE pride of every grove

I chofe,

The violet fweet, and lily fair,

The dappled pink, and blufhing rofe,
To deck my charming Cloe's hair.

II.

At morn the nymph vouchsaf'd to place
Upon her brow the various wreath;
The flowers lefs blooming than her face,
The scent lefs fragrant than her breath.
III.

The flowers the wore along the day :
And every nymph and fhepherd faid,
That in her hair they look'd more gay
Than glowing in their native bed.
IV.

Undreft at evening, when the found

Their odours loft, their colours paft;

She chang'd her look, and on the ground
Her garland and her eye fhe caft.

5

V. That

V.

That eye dropt fense diftin&t and clear,
As any Mufe's tongue could fpeak,
When from its lid a pearly tear

Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek,
VI.

Diffembling what I knew too well,

My love, my life, faid I, explain
This change of humour: pr'ythee tell :
That falling tear—what does it mean?
VII.

She figh'd; the smil'd: and to the flowers
Pointing, the lovely Moralist faid;
See, friend, in fome few fleeting hours,
See yonder, what a change is made.
VIII.

Ah me! the blooming pride of May,
And that of Beauty, are but one:
At morn both flourish bright and gay;
Both fade at evening, pale, and gone.
IX.

At dawn poor Stella danc'd and fung;
The amorous youth around her bow'd;
At night her fatal knell was rung;
I faw, and kifs'd her in her fhrowd.
X.

Such as fhe is, who dy'd to-day :

Such I, alas! may be to-morrow: Go, Damon, bid thy Muse display The juftice of thy Cloe's forrow.

The

« PreviousContinue »