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IN ENGLISHI.

Behold the god advance in comely pride, Thus ancient legends would our faith abuse: Arm'd with his bow, his quiver by his side:

In vain--for were the bold tradition true, Inferior Cupids on their master wait;

While your harmonious touch that charm renews, He smiles well pleas'd, and waves his wings in state. Again the seraph would appear to you. His little hands imperial trophies bear,

O happy fair! in whom, with purest light, And laurel-wreaths to grace th' elected fair.

Virtue's united beams with beauty shine!
Hyde-Park the scene for the Review he nam'd, Should heavenly guests descend to bless our sight,
Hyde-Park for pleasure and for beauty fam’d, What form more lovely could they wear than
Where, oft from western skies the god of light

thine?
Sees new-arising suns, than his more bright;
Then sets in blushes, and conveys his fire
To distant lands, that more his beains require.

SONNET
And now the charming candidates appear :
Behold Britannia's victor graces there,

Je mourrai de trop de plaisir,
Who vindicate their country's ancient claim

Si je la trouve favourable; To Lore's pre-eminence, and Beauty's fame.

Je mourrai de trop de desir, Some, who, at Anna's court, in honour rais'd,

Se je la trouve inexorable. Adorn birth-nights, by crowding nations prais'd;

Ainsi je ne sçaurois guerir Preserv'd in kneller's pictures ever young,

De la douleur qui me possede;
In strains immortal by the Muses sung.

Je suis assuré de perir
Around the ring th' illustrious rivals move,
And teach to Love himself the power of love,

Par le mal, ou par le remede.
Scarce, though a god, he can with safety gaze
On glory so profuse, such mingled rays;
Por Love had eyes on this important day, [away.
And Venus froin his forehead iook the blinding cloth I die with too transporting joy,
Here Mira pass'd, and fix'd his wondering view,

If she I love rewards my fire;
Her perfect shape distinguished praises drew;

If she's inexorably coy, Tall, beauteous, and majestic to the sight,

With too much passion I expire. She led the train, and sparkled in the light.

No way the Fates afford to shun There Stella claims the wreath, and pleads her

The cruel torment I endure;
By which each day some new adorer dies, [eyes, Since I am doond to be undone
Serena, by good-humour doubly fair,

By the disease, or by the cure.
With native sweetness charms, and smiling air.
While Flora's youthful years and looks display
'The bloom of ripening fruits, the innocence of May,
The opening sweets that months of pleasure bring,

TO A PAINTER.
The dawn of Love, and life's indulgent spring.

"Twere endless to describe the various darts, Painter, if thou canst safely gaze With which the fair are arm'd to conquer hearts, On all the wonders of that face; Whatever can the ravish'd soul inspire

If thou hast charms to guard a heart With tender thoughts, and animate desire,

Secure by secrets of thy art; All arts and virtues mingled in the train;

0! teach the mighty charm, that we And long the lovely rivals strove in vain, [plain. May gaze securely too, like thee. While Cupid, unresolv'd, still search'd around the Canst thou Love's brightest lightning draw, "0! could I find,” said Love, “ the phonix she, | Which none e'er yet unwounded saw? In whom at once the several charms agree; To what then wilt thou next aspire, That phenix she the laurel crown should have, Unless to imitate Jove's fire ? And Love himself with pride become her slave.” Which is a less adventurous pride,

He scarce had spoke, when see-Harmonia caine! Though 'twas for that Salmoneus dy'd. Chance brought her there, and not desire of fame; That beauteous, that victorious fair, Unknowing of the choice, till she be held

Whose chains so many lovers wear;
The god approach to crown her in the field.

Who with a look can arts infuse,
Th’ unwilling maid, with wondrous modesty, Create a Painter, or a Muse;
Disclaim'd her right, and put the laurel by: Whom crowds with awful rapture view;
Marm blushes on her tender cheeks arise,

She sits serene, and smiles on you!
And double softness beautify'd her eyes.

Your genius thus inspir'd will soar
At this, more charm’d, “The rather I bestow,” To wondrous heights unknown before,
Said Love, “these honours you in vain forego; And to her beauty you will own
Take then the wreath, which you, victorious fair, Your future skill and fix'd renon.
Have most deserv'd, yet least affect to wear." So when of old great Ammon's son,

Adorn'd with spoils in battle won,

In graceful picture chose to stand,
TO A BEAUTIFUL LADY,

The work of fam'd Apelles' hand;

“Exert thy fire," the monarch said, PLAYING ON THE ORGAN.

“Now be thy boldest strokes display'd, When fam'a Cecilia on the organ play'd, To let admiring nations see

And fill'd with moving sounds the tuneful frame, Their dreaded victor drawn by thee; Drawn by the charm, to hear the sacred maid, To others thou may'st life impart,

From Heaven, 'tis said, a listening angel came. But I'll immortalize thy art."

/

TO THE

BIRTH-DAY.

Descending angels, in harmonious lays,
Taught the first happy pair their Maker's praise.

Such was the sacred art-We now deplore
AUTHOR OF FATAL FRIENDSHIP,

The Muse's loss, since Eden is no more.
A TRAGEDY.

When Vice from hell rear'd up its hydra-head,

Th’affrighted maid, with chaste Astrea, fled, As wlien Camilla once, a warlike dame,

And sought protection in her native sky; In bloody battles won immortal fame,

In vain the heathen Nine her absence would supply. Forsook her female arts, and chose to bear

Yet to some few, whose dazzling virtues shone, The ponderous shield, and heave the massy spear, In ages past, her heavenly charms were known. Superior to her sex, so swift she flew

Hence learn'd the bard, in lofty strains to tell Arouud the field, and such vast numbers slew, How patient Virtue triumph'd over Hell; That friends and foes, alike surpris'd, behold And hence the chief, who led the chosen race The brave Virago desperately bold,

Through parting seas, deriv'd his songs of praise : And thought her Pallas in a human mould. She gave the rapturous ode, whose ardent lay Such is our wonder, matchless maid! to see Sings female force, and vanquish'd Sisera; The tragic laurel thus deserv'd by thee.

She tun'd to pious notes the psalmist's lyre, (fire!
Still greater praise is yours; Camilla shines And fillid Isaiah's breast with more than Pindar's
For ever bright in Virgil's sacred lines,
You in your own.
Nor need you to another's bounty owe,
For what yourself can on yourself bestow;

SONG.
So monarchs in full health are wont to rear,
At their own charge, their future sepulchre.

WRITTEN FOR THE LATE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER'S
Who thy perfections fully would commend,
Must think how others their vain hours misspend,

Wuue Venus in her snowy arms
In trilling visits, pride, impertinence,
Dress, dancing, and discourse devoid of sense;

The god of battles held,
To twirl a fan, to please some foolish beau,

And sooth'd him with her tender charms,

Victorious from the field;
And sing an empty song, the most they know ;
In body weak, more impotent of mind.

By chance she cast a lovely smile,
Thus some have represented woman-kind.

Propitious, down to Earth, But you, your sex's champion, are come forth

And view'd in Britain's happy isle To fight their quarrel, and assert their worth;

Great Gloucester's glorious birth. Our Salic law of wit you hare destroy'd,

“ Look, Mars," she said; “ look down, and see Establish'd female claim, and triumph'd o'er our

A child of royal race!
While we look on, and with repining eyes [pride. Let's crown the bright nativity
Bt hold you bearing off so rich a prize,

With every princely grace:
Spite of ill-nature, we are forc'd t'approve

Thy heavenly image let me bear, Such dazzling charms, and, spite of envy, lore. And shine a Mars below;

Nor is this all th' applause that is your due, Foun you his mind to warlike care,
You stand the first of stage-reformeis too;

I'll softer gifts bestow."
Novicious strains pollute your moral scene, [clean;
Chaste are your thoughts, and your expression | Thus at his birth two deities
Strains such as yours the strictest test will bear:

Their blessings did impart:
Sing boldly then, nor busy Censure fear,

And love way breath'd into his eyes, Your virgin voice offends no virgin ear.

And glory forni'd his heart. Proceeri in tragic numbers to disclose

His childhood makes of war a game; Strange turns of fate, and unexpected wocs.

Betimes his beauty charms Reward, and punish! awfully dispense

The fair; who burnd with equal filame Heaven's judgments, and declare a Providence;

For him, as he for arms. Nor let the comic Muse your labours share,

1699, 'lis meanness, after this, the sock to wear: Though that too merit praise, 'tis nobler toil Textort a tear, than to provoke a smile. What hand, that can design a history,

ON A PEACOCK,
Woull copy low-land boors at Snic-a-Snee?

FINELY CUT IN VELLUM BY MOLISDA.
Accept this tribute, inadam, and excuse
The hasty raptures of a stranger Muse.

Iluten Fancy did Molinda's hand invite, 1698.

Without the help of colour, shade, or light,
To form in vellum, spotless as her mind,

The fairesi image of the feather'd kind;
ON DIVINE POETRY.

Nature herself a strict attendance paid,

(harm'd with th'attaimnents of th'illustrious maid, 1x Nature's golden age, when new-born day Inspir'd her thought, and, smiling, said, “I'll see Array'd the skies, and Earth was green and gay; How well this fair-one's art can copy me.” When Gol, with pleasure, all his works survey'd,

So to her favourite Titian once she came, Al ringin innocence before him play'd;

To guide his puncil, and attest his fame, In that illustrious inorn, that lovely spring, With transport granting all that she could give, The Muse, by Heaven inspird, began to sing. And bid his works to wondering ages live.

Nor with less transport here the goddess sees Her rural slaves their absent victor mourn, The curious piece advance by slow degrees; And wish not liberty, but her return. At last such skill in every part was shown, The conquer'd countries droop, while she's away, It seem'd a new creation of her own;

And slowly to the Spring their contribution pay. She starts, to view the finish'd figure rise,

While cooing turtles, doubly now alone, And spread his ample train, enrich'd with eyes ; With their lost loves another loss bemoan. To see, with lively grace, his form express'd,

Mean time in peopled cities crowds press on, The stately bonours of his rising crest,

And jealous seem who shall be first undone.
His comely wings, and his soft silky breast ! Victories, like Fame, before th' invader fly,
The leaves of creeping vines around him play, And lovers yet unseeing haste to die.
And Nature's leaves less perfect seem than they. While she with careless, unelated mind,

O matchless bird! whose race, with nicest care, Hears daily conquests which she ne'er desiga'd;
Hearen seems in pleasure to have form’d so fair! In her a soft, yet cruel heart is found,
From whose gay plumes ev'n Phoebus with delight Averse to cure, and vainly griev'd to wound.
Sees his own rays reflected doubly bright!
Though numerous rivals of the wing there be
That share our praise, when not compar'd to thee,
Soon as thy rising glories strike our eyes,

WRITTEN IN A LADY'S PRAYER-BOOK. Their beauty shines no more, their lustre dies. So fair a form, with such devotion join'd! So when Molinda, with superior charms,

A virgin body, and a spotless mind! Dazzles the ring, and other nymphs disarms, Pleas'd with her prayers, while Heaven propitious To her the rallying Loves and Graces fly,

The lovely votress on her bended knees, (sees And, fixing there, proclaim the victory. No wonder, then, since she was born t' excel,

Sure it must think some angel lost its way, This bird's fair image she describes so well,

And happening on our wretched Earth to stray, Happy, as in some temple thus to stand,

Tir'd with our follies, fain would take its flight, humortaliz'd by her successful band.

And begs to be restor’d to those blest realms of light.

ON

ODE ON THE SPRING.

FOR THE MONTH OF MAY.
LUCIND.IS TEA-TABLE.

Wanton Zephyr, come away!
Poets
OETS invoke, when they rehearse

On this sweet, this silent grove,
In happy strains their pleasing dreams,

Sacred to the Muse and Love, Some Muse unseen to crown their verse,

In gentle whisper'd murmurs play! And boast of Heliconian streams :

Come, let thy soft, thy balmy breeze

Diffuse thy vernal sweets around But here, a real Muse inspires

From sprouting flowers, and blossom'd trees; (Who more revivmg streams imparts)

While hills and echoing vales resound Our fancies with the poets' fires,

With notes, which wing'd musicians sing And with a nobler Hame our hearts.

In honour to the bloom of Spring. While from her hand each honour'd guest

Lovely season of desire! Receives his cup with liquor crown'd,

Nature smiles with joy to see He thinks 'tis Jove's immortal feast,

The amorous Months led on by thee, And Venus deals the nectar round.

That kindly wake her genial fire.

The brightest object in the skies, As o'er each fountain, poets sing,

The fairest lights that shine below,
Some lovely guardian-nymph has sway,

The Sun, and Mira's charming eyes,
Who from the consecrated spring,
Wild beasts and satyrs drives away;

At thy return more charming grow:

With double glory they appear,
So bither dares no savage press,

To warm and grace the infant Year.
Who Beauty's sovereign power defies;
All, drinking here, her charms confess,
Proud to be conquer'd by her eyes.

HORACE,
When Phoebus try'd his herbs in vain

On Hyacinth, had she been there,
With tra she would have cur'd the swain,

The design of this ode was to insinuate to Augustus Who unny then had dy'd for her.

the danger of transferring the seat of the empire | January 1, 1701.

from Rome to Troy, which we are informed he

once entertained thoughts of.

The man to right inflexibly inclin’d,
TUE MARCH.

Poising on virtue's base his mind,
Victoria comes! she leaves the forag'd groves !

Rests in himself secure,
Her tly a camp of Graces and of Loves

Indissolubly firm in good;
Strike me their tents, and for the march prepare, Låt tempests rise, and billows rage,

And to new scenes of triumph wait the fair. All rock within, he can unmov'd endure
16
Trike the slaves which other warriors gain,

The foaming fury of the flood, that loath sutjection, and would break their chain, / Whea bellowing winds their jarring troops engage,

ODE III. BOOK II.

F

Or wasteful civil tumults roll along

“ Let Rome extend her fame to every shoro; With fiercer strength, and louder roar,

And let no banks or mounds restrain Driving the torrent of the throng,

Th' impetuous torrent of her wide command ; And gathering into power.

The seas from Europe, Africk part in vain;
Let a proud tyrant cast a killing frown;

Swelling above those floods, her power
Or Jove in angry thunder on the world look down; Shall, like its Nile, o'erflow the Lybian land,
Nay, let the frame of Nature crack,

Shining in polish'd steel, she dares
And all the spacious globe on high,

The glittering beams of gold despise, Shatter'd with universal rack,

Gold, the great source of human cares, Come tumbling from the sky:

Hid wisely deep from mortal eves, Yet he'll survey the horrid scene

Till, sought in evil hour by hands unblest,
With steady courage and undaunted mien,

Opening the dark abodes,
The only thing serene!

There issued forth a direful train of woes,
Thus Pollux and great Hercules [round, That give mankind no rest;
Roam'd through the world, and blest the nations For gold, devoted to th' infernal gods,
Till, rais'd at length to heavenly palaces,

No native human uses knows. Mankind, as gods, their benefactions crown'd;

“ Where'er great Jove did place With these, Augustus shall for ever shine,

The bounds of Nature yet unseen, And stain his rosy lips in cups divine.

He meant a goal of glory to the race Thus his fierce tigers dauntless Bacchus bear;

The Roman arms shall win: The glaring savages resist in vain,

Rejoicing, onward they approach Impatient of the bit, and fretting on the rein;

To view the outworks of the world, Through yielding clouds he drives th’impetuous car.

The maddening fires, in wild debauch, (whirl'd! Great Romulus pursued the shining trace,

The snows and rains unborn, in endless eddies And leapt the lake, where all The rest of mortals fall,

'Tis I, O Rome, pronounce these fates behind, And with his father's horses scour'd the same bright But will thy reign with this condition bind, airy race.

That no false filial piety, Then in full senate of the deities,

In idle shapes deluding thee,

Or confidence of power,
Settling the seats of power, and future fate,
Juno began the high debate,

Tempt thee again to raise a Trojan tower;
And with this righteous sentence pleas'd the skies:

Troy, plac'd beneath malignant stars,

Haunted with omens still the same, O Troy!” she said,

“O hated Troy! A foreign woman', and a boy ®,

Rebuilt, shall but renew the former flame,
Lewd, partial, and unjust,

Jove's wife and sister leading on the wars.
Shook all thy proudest towers to dust;

Thrice let her shine with brazen walls,
Inclin'd to ruin from the time

Reard up by heavenly hands:
Thy king did mock two powers divine,

And thrice in fatal dust she falls,
And ras'd thy fated walls in perjury,

By faithful Grecian bands;
But doubly damn’d by that offence,

Thrice the dire scene shall on the world return,
Which did Minerva's rage incense,

And captive wives again their sons and husbands

mourn."
And offer'd wrong to me.
No more the treacherous ravisher

But stop, presumptuous Muse, thy daring flight,
Shines in full pomp and youthful charms;

Nor hope in thy weak lyric lay, Nor Priam's impious house with Hector's spear,

The heavenly language to display, Repels the violence of Grecian arms.

Or bring the counsels of the gods to light, “ Our feuds did long embroil the mortal rout,

At last the storm is spent,
My fury with it ebbing out,

GREENWICH-PARK,
These terms of peace content;

The Paphian isle was once the blest abode
To Mars I grant among the stars a place

Of Beauty's goddess and her archer-god. For his son Romulus, of Trojan race;

There blissful bowers and amorous shades were seen, Here shall he dwell in these divine abodes,

Fair cypress walks, and myrtles ever green.
Drink of the heavenly bowl,

'Twas there, surrounded by a hallow'd wood, And in this shining court his name enrol,

Sacred to Love, a splendid temple stood; With the serene and ever-vacant gods: Where altars were with costly gums perfum'd, While seas shall rage between his Rome and Troy. And lovers sighs arose, and smoke from hearts con. The horrid distance breaking wide,

sum'd: The banish'd Trojans shall the globe enjoy, Till, thence remov'd, the queen of beauty flies And reign in every place beside;

To Britain, fam'd for bright victorious eyes. While beasts insult my judge's dust, and hide Here fix'd, she chose a sweeter seat for Love, Their litter in his cursed tomb,

And Greenwich-park is now her Cyprian grove, The shining Capitol of Rome

Nor fair Parnassus with this hill can vie, Shall overlook the world with awful pride, (dome, which gently swells into the wondering sky, And Parthians take their law from that eternal Commanding all that can transport our sight,

And varying with each view the fresh delight. 6 Romulus was supposed to be the son of Mars From hence my Muse prepares to wing her way, by the priestess Ida.

And wanton, like the Thames, through smiling meads Helen. $ Paris. Paris.

would stray:

9

Describe the groves beneath, the sylvan bowers, Her sighing lovers, who in crowds adore,
The river's winding train,and great Augusta's towers. Would wish thy place, did they not wish for more.

But see! a living prospect drawing near What angels are, when we desire to know,
At once transports, and raises awful fear!

We form a thought by such as she below, Love's favourite band, selected to maintain And thenceconclade they're bright beyond compare, His choicest triumphs, and support his reign. Compos'd of all that's good, and all that's fair. Muse, pay thy homage here-yet oh beware! There yet remains unnam'd a dazzling throng And draw the glorious scene with artful care, Of nyinphs, who to these happy shades belong, For foolish praise is satire on the fair.

O Venus! lovely queen of soft desires! Behold where bright Urania does advance, For ever dwell where such supply thy fires ! And lightens through the trees with every glance! May Virtue still with Beauty share the sway, A careful pleasure in her air is seen ;

And the glad world with willing zeal obey !
Diana shines with such a graceful mien,
When in her darling woods she's feign'd to rove,
The chase pursuing, and avoiding love.
At flying deer the goddess boasts her aim,
But Cupid shows the nymph a nobler game,

TO MOLINDA,
Th' unerring shafts so various fly around,

Th’inspiring Muses and the god of Love, "Tis hard to say which gives the deepest wound;

Which most should grace the fair Molinda strovę: Or if with greater glory we submit,

Love arm'd her with his bow and keenest darts, Pierc'd by her eyes, her humour, or her wit, See next her charming sister, young and gay,

The Muses more enrich'd her mind with arts, In beauty's bloom like the sweet month of May !

Though Greece in shining temples heretofore The sportful nymph, once in the neighbouring The ancients thought no single goddess fit,

Did Venus and Minerva's powers adore,
grove,

To reign at once o'er Beauty and o'er Wit;
Surpris'd by chance the sleeping god of Love;
His head reclin'd upon a tuft of green,

Each was a separate claim; till now we find
And by him scatter'd lay his arrows bright and keen; From hence, when at the court, the park, the play,

The different titles in Molinda join'd,
She tied his wings, and stole his wanton dart,

She gilds the evening, or improves the day,
Then, laughing, wak'd the tyrant lord of hearts;
He smil'd, -and said " 'Tis well, insulting fair!

All eyes regard her with transporting fire,
Yet how you sport with sleeping Love beware!

One sex with envy burns, and one with fierce desire :

But when withdrawn from public show and noise, My loss of darts I quickly can supply, Your looks shall triumph for Love's deity :

In silent works her fancy she employs, And though you now my feeble power disdain,

A smiling train of Arts around her stand, You once perhaps may feel a lover's pain.”

And court improvement from her curious hand. Though Helen's form, and Cleopatra's charms,

She, their bright patroness, o'er all presides, The boast of Fame, once kindled dire alarnis;

And with like skill the pen and needle guides; Those dazzling lights the world no more must view, By this we see gay silken landscapes wrought, And scarce would think the bright description true, By that, the landscape of a beauteous thought:

Whether her voice in tuneful airs she moves,
Did not that ray of beauty, more divine,

Or cuts dissembled flowers and paper groves,
In Mira's eyes by transmigration shine.
Her shape, her air, proportion, lovely face,

Her voice transports the ear with soft delight, And matchless skin contend with rival grace;

Her flowers and groves surprise the ravish'd sight:

Which ev'n to Nature's wonders we prefer;
And Venus' self, proud of th' officious aid,
With all her charms adorns th' illustrious maid.

All but that wonder Nature form'd in her.
But hark!-what more than mortal sounds are

these!
Be still, ye whispering winds, and moving trees!
A second Mira does all hearts surprise,

A LETTER TO A FRIEND
At once victorious with her voice and eyes.
Her eyes alone can tenderest love inspire,
Her heavenly voice improves the young desire.
So western gales in fragrant gardens play

Whilst thou art happy in a blest retrcat,
On buds produc'd by the sun's quickening ray,

And free from care dost rural songs repeat, And spread them into life, and gently chide their Whilst fragrant air fans thy poetic fire, stay.

And pleasant groves with sprightly notes inspire, We court that skill, by which we're sure to die; (Groves whose recesses and refreshing shade The modest fair would fain our suit deny,

Indulge th' invention, and the judgment aid) And sings unwillingly with trembling fear,

I, midst the smoke and clamours of the town, As if concern'd our ruin is so near ;

That choke my Muse, and weigh my fancy down, So generous victors softest pity know,

Pass my unactive hours;And with reluctance strike the fatal blow.

In such an air, how can soft numbers Row,
Engaging Cynthia's arm'd with every grace;

Or in such soil the sacred laurel grow?
Her lovely mind shines cheerful through her face, All we can boast of the poetic fire,
A sacred lamp in a fair crystal case.

Are but some sparks that soon as born expire. Not Venus star, the brightest of the sphere,

Hail happy Woods! harbours of Peace and Joy! Smiles so serene, or casts a light so clear.

Where no black cares the mind's repose destroy! O happy brother of this wondrous fair!

Where grateful Silence unmolested reigns, The best of sisters well deserves thy care;

Assists the Muse, and quickens all her strains.

IN THE COUNTRY.

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