Thy spreading wings shall richest diamonds wear,
And gems fhall sparkle in thy lovely hair.
Thus paffing by, thy arm fhall hurl around
Ten thousand fires, ten thousand hearts fhall wound.
This is thy practice, Love, and this thy gain;
From this thou canst not, if thou would'ft, refrain;
Since ev'n thy prefence, with prolific heat,
Does reach the heart, and active flames create.
From conquer'd India, fo the * jovial God,
Drawn o'er the plains by harness'd tigers, rode.
Then fince, great Love, I take a willing place
Amidst thy fpoils, the facred show to grace;
O cease to wound, and let thy fatal store
Of piercing fhafts be spent on me no more.
No more, too powerful in my charmer's eyes,
Torment a flave, that for her beauty dies;
Or look in fmiles from thence, and I fhall be
A flave no longer, but a God, like thee.
OME, my Muse, a Venus draw; Not the fame the Grecians faw, By the fam'd Apelles wrought, Beauteous offspring of his thought.
No fantastic goddess mine,
Fiction far fhe does outfhine.
Queen of fancy! hither bring.
On thy gaudy-feather'd wing
All the beauties of the fpring.
Like the bee's industrious pains
To collect his golden gains,
So from every flower and plant
Gather first th' immortal paint.
Fetch me lilies, fetch me roses,
Daifies, violets, cowflip-pofies,
Amaranthus, parrot-pride,
Woodbines, pinks, and what befide
Does th' embroider'd meads adorn;
Where the fawns and fatyrs play
In the merry month of May.
Steal the blush of opening morn 3-
Borrow Cynthia's filver white,
When she shines at noon of night,
Free from clouds to veil her light.
Juno's bird his tail fhall spread,
Iris' bow its colour shed,
All to deck this charming piece,
Far furpaffing ancient Greece.
First her graceful ftature fhow,.
Not too tall, nor yet too low.
Fat fhe muft not be, nor lean;
Let her shape be ftraight and clean;
Small her waift, and, thence increas'd,
Gently fwells her rifing breast.
LET Phoebus his late happiness rehearse,
And grace Barn-Elms with never-dying verse!
Smooth was the Thames, his waters fleeping lay,
Unwak'd by winds that o'er the furface play;
When th' early god, arifing from the east,
Disclos'd the golden dawn, with blushes drest.
First in the stream his own bright form he fees,
But brighter forms fhine through the neighbouring
He speeds the rifing day, and sheds his light
Redoubled on the grove, to gain a nearer fight.
Not with more speed his Daphne he purfu'd,
Nor fair Leucothoe with fuch pleasure view'd;
Five dazzling nymphs in graceful pomp appear;
He thinks his Daphne and Leucothoe here,
Join'd with that heavenly three, who on mount Ide 15
Defcending once the prize of beauty try'd.
Ye verdant Elms, that towering grace this grove,
Be facred ftill to Beauty and to Love!
No thunder break, nor lightning glare between
Your twisted boughs, but such as then was seen.
The grateful fun will every morning rife
Propitious here, faluting from the skies
Your lofty tops, indulg'd with sweetest air,
And every spring your loffes he'll repair;
Nor his own laurels more fhall be his care.
N altar raife to Friendship's holy flame,
Inferib'd with Phoebe's and Afteria's name!
Around it mingled in a folemn band,
Let Phoebe's lovers, and Afteria's ftand,
With fervent vows t'attend the facrifice;
While rich perfumes from melted gums
To bribe for Phoebe's health the partial fkies.
Forbid it, Love, that fickly blafts confume
The flower of beauty in its tender bloom!
Shall fhe fo foon to her own heaven retire,
Who gave fo oft, yet never felt thy fire?
Who late at fplendid feafts fo graceful fhone,
By pleafing fmiles and numerous conquefts known; Where, 'midft the brighteft nymphs, fhe bore the prize
From all-from all but her Afteria's
Behold the maid, who then fecure repell'd
The fhafts of Love, by fainting ficknefs quell'd!
(As Beauty's goddess once a wound sustain❜d,
Not from her fon, but from a * mortal's hand)
Afteria too forgets her sprightly charms,
And drooping lies within her Phoebe's arms.
Thus in romantic hiftories we read
Of tournaments by fome great prince decreed,
Where two companion-knights their lances wield
With matchless force, and win, from all, the field; 25
Till one, o'erheated in the course, retires,
And feels within his veins a fever's fires;
His grieving friend his laurels throws away,
And mourns the dear-bought triumphs of the day.
So ftrict's the union of this tender pair,
What Heaven decrees for one, they both must share.
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