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Life feems to move within the glowing veins,
And in each face fome lively paffion reigns.
Thus have I seen woods, hills, and dales appear,
Flocks graze the plains, birds wing the filent air
In darken'd rooms, where light can only pafs.
Through the small circle of a convex glass ;
On the white sheet the moving figures rise,
The foreft waves, clouds float along the skies.

She various fables on the piece defign'd,
That spoke the follies of the female kind..

The fate of pride in Niobe she drew:
Be wife, ye nymphs, that scornful vice fubdue.
In a wide plain th' imperious mother stood,
Whose diftant bounds rofe in a winding wood;
Upon her fhoulder flows her mantling hair,
Pride marks her brow, and elevates her air :.
A purple robe behind her sweeps the ground,
Whofe fpacious border golden flow'rs furround:
She made Latonas' altars cease to flame,

And of due honours robb'd her facred name,
To her own charms fhe bade fresh incense rise,
And adoration own her brighter eyes.

Sev'n daughters from her fruitful loins were born,
Sev'n graceful fons her nuptial bed adorn;
Who, for a mother's arrogant disdain,
Were by Latona's double offspring flain..
Here Phœbus his unerring arrow drew,
And from his rifing fteed her firft-born threw,

His op'ning fingers drop the flacken'd rein,
And the pale corfe falls headlong to the plain.
Beneath her pencil here two wrestlers bend;
See, to the grasp her fwelling nerves distend;
Diana's arrow joins them face to face,

And death unites them in a strict embrace.
Another here flies trembling o'er the plain;
When heav'n pursues we fhun the stroke in vain,
This lifts his fupplicating hands and eyes,
And 'midft his humble adoration dies.

As from his thigh this tears the barbed dart,
A furer weapon ftrikes his throbbing heart:
While that to raise his wounded brother tries,
Death blafts his bloom, and locks his frozen eyes.
The tender fifters bath'd in grief appear,
With fable garments and difhevell'd hair,
And o'er their gafping brothers weeping flood;
Some with their treffes ftopt the gushing blood,
They strive to stay the fleeting life too late,
And in the pious action fhare their fate.

Now the proud dame o'ercome by trembling fear,
With her wide robe protects her only care;
To fave her only care in vain she tries,

Close at her feet the latest victim dies.

Down her fair cheek the trickling forrow flows,
Like dewy spangles on the blushing rose,
Fixt in aftonishment fhe weeping stood,

The plain all purple with her children's blood;


She ftiffens with her woes: no more her hair
In eafy ringlets wantons in the air;
Motion forfakes her eyes, her veins are dry'd,
And beat no longer with the fanguine tide;
All life is fled, firm marble now she grows,
Which still in tears the mother's anguish shows.
Ye haughty fair, your painted fans display,
And the just fate of lofty pride furvey;
Tho' lovers oft extol your beauty's power,
And in celeftial fimilies adore,

Though from your features Cupid borrows arms,
And goddeffes confefs inferior charms,

Do not, vain maid, the flatt'ring tale believe,
Alike thy lovers and thy glass deceive.

Here young Narciffus o'er the fountain flood,
And view'd his image in the crystal flood;
The crystal flood reflects his lovely charms,
And the pleas'd image ftrives to meet his arms.
No nymph his unexperienc'd breaft fubdu'd,
Echo in vain the flying boy purfu'd,

Himself alone the foolish youth admires,

And with fond look the smiling shade defires :
O'er the smooth lake with fruitlefs tears he grieves,
His fpreading fingers shoot in verdant leaves,
Through his pale veins green fap now gently flows,
And in a fhort-liv'd flow'r his beauty blows.
Let vain Narciffus warn each female breaft,

That beauty's but a tranfient good at best,

Like flow'rs it withers with th' advancing year,
And age like winter robs the blooming fair.
Oh Araminta, ceafe thy wonted pride,

Nor longer in thy faithlefs charms confide;
Ev'n while the glass reflects thy sparkling eyes,
Their luftre and thy rofy colour flies!

Thus on the fan the breathing figures fhine,
And all the pow'rs applaud the wife defign.
The Cyprian queen the painted gift receives,
And with a grateful bow the fynod leaves..
'To the low world fhe bends her steepy way,
Where Strephon pafs'd the folitary day;
She found him in a melancholy grove,
His down-caft eyes betray'd defponding love,
The wounded bark confess'd his flighted flame,
And ev'ry tree bore false Corinna's name;
In a cool fhade he lay with folded arms,
Curfes his fortune, and upbraids her charms,
When Venus to his wond'ring eyes appears,
And with these words relieves his am'rous cares :
Rife, happy youth, this bright machine furvey,
Whole ratt'ling fticks my bufy fingers fway,
This present shall thy cruel charmer move,
And in her fickle bofom kindle love.

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The fan fhall flutter in all female hands,
And various fashions learn from various lands.
For this, fhall elephants their ivory fhed;
And polish'd flicks the waving engine spread:

His clouded mail the tortoife shall refign,
And round the rivet pearly circles shine.
On this fhall Indians all their art employ,
And with bright colours ftain the gaudy toy;
Their paint shall here in wildeft fancies flow,
Their drefs, their customs, their religion show;
So fhall the British fair their minds improve,
And on the fan to distant climates rove.
Here China's ladies fhall their pride difplay,
And filver figures gild their loofe array;
This boasts her little feet and winking eyes;
That tunes the fife, or tinkling cymbal plies:
Here cross-leg'd nobles in rich state shall dine,
There in bright mail diftorted heroes shine..
The peeping fan in modern times shall rise,
Through which unfeen the female ogle flies;
This shall in temples the fly maid conceal,
And shelter love beneath devotion's veil.
Gay France fhall make the fan her artist's care,
And with the coftly trinket arm the fair.
As learned orators that touch the heart,
With various action raise their foothing art,
Both head and hand affect the lift'ning throng,
And humour each expreffion of the tongue;
So fhall each paffion by the fan be seen,

From noify anger to the fullen fpleen.

While Venus fpoke, joy fhone in Strephon's eyes : Proud of the gift, he to Corinna flies.


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