Almighty Jove augment your wealthy store, Give much to you, and to his grandfons more! From generous loins a generous race will spring, Each girl, like her, a queen; each boy, like you, a king.
Now fleep, if fleep you can; but while
you reft, Sleep close, with folded arms, and breaft to breaft:
Rife in the morn; but oh! before you rife, 90 Forget not to perform your morning facrifice. We will be with you ere the crowing cock Salutes the light, and struts before his feather'd flock.
Hymen, oh Hymen, to thy triumphs run, And view the mighty fpoils thou haft in battle
TWENTY-THIRD IDYLLIUM OF THEOCRITUS.
WITH inaufpicious love, a wretched swain
Purfu'd the faireft nymph of all the plain ;
Faireft indeed, but prouder far than fair,
She plung'd him hopeless in a deep despair:
Her heavenly form too haughtily she priz'd, 5
His perfon hated, and his gifts despis'd;
Nor knew the force of Cupid's cruel darts,
Nor fear'd his awful power on human hearts;
But either from her hopeless lover fled,
Or with disdainful glances shot him dead.
No kifs, no look, to cheer the drooping boy;
No word the fpoke, fhe fcorn'd even to deny.
But, as a hunted panther cafts about
Her glaring eyes, and pricks her listening ears
to scout,
So fhe, to fhun his toils, her cares employ'd, 15 And fiercely in her favage freedom joy'd.
Her mouth the writh'd, her forehead taught to
Her eyes to fparkle fires to love unknown:
Her fallow cheeks her envious mind did fhew,
And every feature spoke aloud the cursiness of
Yet could not he his obvious fate escape;
His love ftill drefs'd her in a pleafing shape;
And every fullen frown, and bitter fcorn,
But fann'd the fuel that too faft did burn.
Long time, unequal to his mighty pain,
He ftrove to curb it, but he strove in vain :
At laft his woes broke out, and begg'd relief
With tears, the dumb petitioners of grief;
With tears fo tender, as adorn'd his love,
And any heart, but only her's, would move. 30
Trembling before her bolted doors he stood,
And there pour'd out the unprofitable flood:
Staring his eyes, and haggard was his look;
Then, kiffing first the threshold, thus he fpoke.
Ah nymph, more cruel than of human
Thy tigrefs heart belies thy angel face;
Too well thou fhew'ft thy pedigree from stone: Thy grandame's was the firft by Pyrrha thrown:
Unworthy thou to be fo long defir'd;
But fo my love, and fo my fate requir'd.
I beg not now (for 'tis in vain) to live;
But take this gift, the laft that I can give.
This friendly cord fhall foon decide the ftrife
Betwixt my lingering love and loathfome life:
This moment puts an end to all my pain;
I fhall no more despair, nor thou difdain.
Farewel, ungrateful and unkind! I go
Condemn'd by thee to thofe fad fhades below.
the extremeft remedy to prove,
To drink oblivion, and to drench my
There happily to lofe my long defires:
But ah! what draught fo deep to quench my
fires?
Farewel, ye never-opening gates, ye ftones,
And threshold guilty of my midnight moans!
What I have fuffer'd here ye know too well; 55
What I fhall do the gods and I can tell.
The rofe is fragrant, but it fades in time;
The violet fweet, but quickly paft the prime;
White lillies hang their heads, and foon de-
And whiter fnow in minutes melts away:
Such is your blooming youth, and withering
The time will come, it will, when you fhall
The rage of love; your haughty heart fhall
In flames like mine, and meet a like return.
Obdurate as you are, oh! hear at least
My dying prayers, and grant my laft request. When first you ope your doors, and, pafling
The fad ill-omen'd object meets your eye,
Think it not loft, a moment if you stay;
The breathlefs wretch, fo made by you, fur
Some cruel pleasure will from thence arise,
To view the mighty ravage of your eyes.
I wish (but oh! my wifh is vain, I fear)
The kind oblation of a falling tear:
Then loofe the knot, and take me from
place,
And spread your mantle o'er my grizly face;
Upon my livid lips beftow a kifs:
O envy not the dead, they feel not blifs!
Nor fear your kiffes can restore my breath;
E'en you are not more pitylefs than death.
Then for my corpfe a homely grave provide,.
Which love and me from public fcorn may
Thrice call upon my name, thrice beat your breaft,
And hail me thrice to everlafting reft;
Laft let my tomb this fad infcription bear: 85 A wretch whom love has kill'd lies buried
O paffengers, Aminta's eyes beware,
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