At this, more charm'd, the rather I bestow, Said love, these honours you in vain forego; Take then the wreath, which you, victorious fair, Have moit deferv'd, yet left affect to wear.

TO A BEAUTIFUL LADY,

PLAYING ON THE ORGAN.

WчEn fam'd Cecilia on the organ play'd,

And fill'd with moving founds the tuneful frame, Drawn by the charm, to hear the sacred maid,

From heaven, 'tis faid, a listening angel came. Thus ancient legends would our faith abuse;

In vain--for were the bold tradition true, While your harmonious touch that charm renews, Again the feraph would appear to you.

O happy fair in whom with pureft light,
Virtue's united beams with beauty shine!
Should heavenly guests defcend to blefs our fight,
What form more lovely could they wear than
thine!

That beauteous, that victoricus fair,
Whose chains so many lovers wear;
Who with a look can arts infuse,
Create a painter, or a mufe;
Whom crowds with awful rapture view;
She fits ferene, and fmiles on you!
Your genius thus infpir'd will foar
To wondrous heights unknown before,
And to her beauty you will own
Your future skill and fix'd renown.

So when of old great Ammon's for,
Adorn'd with fpoils in battle won,
la graceful picture chose to stand,
The work of fam'd Apelles' hand;

Exert thy fire, the monarch said, "Now be thy boldest strokes difplay'd, "To let admiring nations fee "Their dreaded victor drawn by thee; "To others thou may'st life impart, "But I'll immortalize thy aft!"

TO THE

AUTHOR OF FATAL FRIENDSHIP,

A TRAGEDY.

As when Camilla once, a warlike dame,
in bloody battles won immortal fame,
For fook her female arts, and chofe to bear
The ponderous fhield, and heave the massy spear,
Superior to her sex, so swift fhe flew

Around the field, and such vast numbers flew,
That friends and foes, alike furpris'd, behold
The brave Virago desperately bold,

And thought her Pallas in a human mould.
Such is our wonder, matchlefs maid! to see
The tragic laurel thus deferv'd by thee,

Still greater praise is yours; Camilla fhines
For ever bright in Virgil's facred lines,
You in your own.—————

Nor need you to another's bounty owe,
For what yourself can on yourself bestow;
So monarchs in full health are wont to rea”,
At their own charge, their future fepulchre.
Who thy perfections fully would commend,
Muft think how others their vain hours mifperd,
In trifling visits, pride, impertinence,
Drefs, dancing, and discourse devoid of sense;
fo twirl a fan, to please fume foolish beau,
And fing an empty fong, the most they know;
In body weak, more impotent of mind.
Thus fome have reprefented woman-kind.
But you, your fex's champion, are come forth
To fight their quarrel, and affert their worth;
Our Salic law of wit you have destroy'd, [pride.
Establish'd female claim, and triumph'd o'er our
While we look on, and with repining eyes
Behold you bearing off so rich a prize,
Spite of ill-nature, we are forc'd t' approve
Such dazzling charms, and, fpite of envy, love.
Nor is this all th' applaufe that is your due,
You ftand the first of stage reformers too;

T

No vicious frains pollute your moral scene,
Chafte are your thoughts, and your expreffion clean;
Strains fuch as yours the ftricteft teft will bear:
Sing boldly then, nor busy cenfure fear,
Your virgin voice offends no virgin ear.
Proceed in tragic numbers to disclofe
Strange turns of fate, and unexpected woes.
Reward, and punish! awfully difpenfe
Heaven's judgments, and declare a Providence;
Nor let the comic mufe your labours fhare,
'Tis meannefs, after this, the fock to wear:
Though that to merit praife, 'tis nobler toil
T'extort a tear than to provoke a smile.
What hand, that can defign a history,
Would copy low-land boors at Snic-a-Snee?
Accept this tribute, madam, and excufe
The hafty raptures of a ftranger mufe.
1698.

ON DIVINE POETRY.

In nature's golden age, when new-born day
Array'd the skies, and earth was green and gay;
When Cod, with pleasure, all his works furvey'd,
And virgin innocence before him play'd;
In that illuflrious morn, that lovely spring,
The mufe, by heaven infpir'd, began to fing.
Defcending angels, in harmonious lays,
Taught the first happy pair their maker's praife.
Such was the facred art-We now deplore
The mufe's lofs, fince Eden is no more.
When vice from hell rear'd up its hydra-head,
Th' affrighted maid, with chafte Aftræa, fled,
And fought protection in her native fly;
In vain the heathen Nine her abfence would fupply.
Yet to fome few, whofe dazzling virtues fhone
In ages paft, her heavenly charms were known.
Hence learn'd the bard, in 1 fty ftrains to tell
How patient virtue triumph'd over hell;
And hence the chief, who led the chofen race
Through parting feas, deriv'd his fongs of praise :
She gave the rapturous ode, whof, ardent lay
Sings female force, and varquish'd Sifera;
She tun'd to pious notes the Pfalmift's lyre, [fire!
And fill'd Ifaiah's breaft with more than Pindar's

SONG.

WRITTEN FOR THE LATE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER'S

BIRTH-DAY.

I.

WHILE Venus in her fnowy arms
The God of battles held,

And footh'd him with her tender charms,
Victorious from the field;

By chance the caft a lovely smile,
Propitious, down to earth,

And view'd in Britain's happy ifle
Great Gloucefter's glorious birth.

ON A PEACOCK,

FINELY CUT IN VELLUM BY MOLINDA.

[maid,

WHEN fancy did Molinda's hand invite,
Without the help of colour, fhade, or light,
l'o form in vellum, fpotlefs as her mind,
The fairest image of the feather'd kind;
Nature herself a ftrict attendance paid,
Charm'd with th' attainments of th' illustrious
Inspir'd her thought, and, fmiling, faid, I'll fee
How well this fair-one's art can copy me.
So to her favourite Titian once she came,
To guide his pencil, and atteft his fame,
With transport granting all that fhe could give,
And bid his works to wondering ages live.

Nor with lefs tranfport here the goddefs fees
The curious piece advance by flow degrees;
At last such skill in every part was thown,
It feem'd a new creation of her own;
She starts, to view the finish'd figure rife,
And spread his ample train, enrich'd with eyes;
To fee, with lively grace, his form exprefs'd,
The stately honours of his rifing creft,
His comely wings, and his foft filky breaft!
The leaves of creeping vines around him play,
And nature's leaves lefs perfect feem than they.

O matchlefs bird! whofe race, with niceft care, Heaven feems in pleasure to have form'd fo fair! From whofe gay plumes ev'n Phœbus with delight Secs his own rays reflected doubly bright! Though numerous rivals of the wing there beThat fhare our praife, when not compar'd to thee, Soon as thy rifing glories ftrike our eyes, Their beauty fhines no more, their luftre dies. So when Molinda, with fuperior charms, Dazzles the ring, and other nymphs difarms. To her the rallying loves and graces fly, And, fixing there, proclaim the victory.

No wonder, then, fince fhe was born t'excel, This bird's fair image the defcribes fo well : Happy, as in fome temple thus to fland, Immortaliz'd by her fuccessful hand,

VICTORIA Comes! fhe leaves the forag'd groves!
Her flying camp of graces and of loves
Strike all their tents, and for the march prepare,
And to new fcenes of triumph wait the fair.

Unlike the flaves which other warriors gain,
That loath subjection, and would break their chain,
Her rural flaves their abfent victor mourn,
And with not liberty, but her return.
The conquer'd countries droop, while fhe's away,
And flowly to the fpring their contribution pay.
While cooing turtles, doubly now alone,
With their loft loves another lofs bei:.oan.

Mean time in peopled cities crowds prefs on, And jealous feem who fhall be firft undone. Victories, like fame, before th' invader fly, And lovers yet unfeeing hafte to die. While fhe with carelels unelated mind, Hears daily conquests which the ne'er defign'd: In her a foft, yet cruel heart is found, Averse to cure, and vainly griev'd to wound.

HORACE, ODE III. BOOK III.

The defign of this ode was to infinuate to Auguf tus the danger of transferring the feat of the empire from Rome to Troy, which we are in formed he once entertained thoughts of.

I.

Tas man to right inflexibly inclin'd,
Poifing on virtue's bafe his mind,
Refts in himself fecure,
Indiffolubly firm in good;

Let tempefts rife, and billows rage,

All rock within, he can unmov'd endure

The foaming fury of the flood,

When bellowing winds their jarring troops engage,
Or wasteful civil tumults roll along

With fiercer ftrength, and louder roar,
Driving the torrent of the throng,
And gathering into power.

Let a proud tyrant caft a killing frown;
Or Jove in angry thunder on the world look down;
Nay, let the frame of nature crack,
And all the fpacious globe on high,
Shatter'd with univerfal rack,
Come tumbling from the fky:

Yet he'll furvey the horrid fcene

With fteady courage and undaunted mien,
The only thing fercne,

17.

Thus Pollux and great Hercules, [round,
Roam'd through the world, and bleft the nations
Till, rais'd at length to heavenly palaces,
Mankind, as gods, their benefactions crown'd;
With thefe, Augustus shall for ever shine,
And ftain his rofy lips in cups divine.

Thus his fierce tigers dauntlefs Bacchus bear;
The glaring favages refilt in vain,
Impatient of the bit, and fretting on the rein;
Through yielding clouds he drives th' impetuous
Great Romulus purfued the fhining trace,

And leapt the lake, where all

The rest of mortals fall,

[car.

And with his father's horfes fcour'd the fame

Then in full fenate of the deities,

Settling the feats of power, and future fate,

Juno began the high debate,

[kies:

And with this righteous fentence pleas'd the
"O Troy! the faid, O hated Troy!
"At foreign woman, and a || boy,
"Lewd, partial, and unjust,

"Shook all thy proudest towers to duft;
"Inclin'd to ruin from the time,
"Thy king did mock two powers divine,
And raz'd thy fated walls in perjury,
"But doubly damn'd by that offence,
"Which did Minerva's rage incenfe,
"And offer'd wrong to me.
"No more the treacherous ravisher

"Shines in full pomp and youthful charms; Nor Priam's impious houfe with Hector's fpear, Repels the violence of Grecian arms.

IV.

Our feuds did long embroil the mortal rout, "At laft the ftorm is spent, "My fury with it ebbing out, "These terms of peace content; "To Mars I grant among the stars a place "For his fon Romulus, of Trojan race; "Here fhall he dwell in thefe divine abodes,

"Drink of the heavenly bowl,

"And in this fhining court his name enrol,

"With the ferene and ever-vacant gods; "While feas fhall rage between his Rome and Troy, "The horrid distance breaking wide,

"The banish'd Trojans shall the globe enjoy,

"And reign in every place befide; "While beafts infult my ¶ judge's duft, and hide "Their litter in his curfed tomb,

The fhining capitol of Rome

"Shall overlook the world with awful pride, "And Parthians take their law from that eternal "dome.

V.

"Let Rome extend her fame to every fhore; "And let no banks or mounds restrain "Th' impetuous torrent of her wide command; "The feas from Europe, Afric part in vain;

Romulus was fuppofed to be the fon of Mars by the prieftefs Ilia. + Helen. Paris. Karis.

"'Tis I, O Rome, pronounce thefe fates hehind,
"But will thy reign with this condition bind,
"That no falfe filial piety,

"In idle fhapes deluding thee,
"Or confidence of power,

"Tempt thee again to raise a Trojan tower;
Troy, plac'd beneath malignant ftars,
"Haunted with omens ftill the fame,
"Rebuilt, fhall but renew the former flame,
Jove's wife and fifter leading on the wars.
"Thrice let her fhine with brazen walls,

"Rear'd up by heavenly hands; "And thrice in fatal dust she falls,

By faithful Grecian bands;

"Thrice the dire fcene fhall on the world return, "And captive wives again their fons and hufbands "mourn."

But ftop, prefumptuous mufe, thy daring flight,
Nor hope in thy weak lyric lay,

The heavenly language to difplay,
Or bring the counfels of the gods to light.

GREENWICH PARK.

The Paphian ifle was once the blest abode
Of beauty's goddess and her archer-god,
There blissful bowers and amorous fhades were feen,
Fair cypress walks, and myrtles ever green.
'Twas there, furrounded by a hallow'd wood,
Sacred to love, a fplendid temple stood;
Where altars were with coftly gums perfum'd,
And lovers fighs arofe, and smoke from hearts con-
fum'd.

Till, thence remov'd, the queen of beauty flies.
To Britain, fam'd for bright victorious eyes.
Here fix'd, fhe chofe a fwecter feat for love,
And Greenwich park is now her Cyprian grove.
Nor fair Parnaffus with this hill can vic,
Which gently fwells into the wondering sky,
Commanding all that can tranfport our fight,
And varying with each view the fresh delight.

From hence my mufe prepares to wing her way, And wanton, like the Thames, through fmiling meads would ftray;

Defcribe the groves beneath, the fylvan bowers, The river's winding train, and great Augufta's

towers.

But fee!-a living profpect drawing near At once transports, and raises awful fear! Love's favourite band, felected to maintain His choiceft triumphs, and support his reign. Mufe, pay thy homage here-yet oh beware! And draw the glorious fcene with artful care, For foolish praife is fatire on the fair.

Behold where bright Urania does advance, And lightens through the trees with every glance: A careless pleasure in her air is feen; Diana fhines with fuch a graceful mien, When in her darling woods fhe's feign'd to rove, The chace pursuing, and avoiding love. At flying deer the goddess boafts her aim, But Cupid fhews the nymph a nobler game. Th' unerring shafts fo various fly around, 'Tis hard to say which gives the deepest wound. Or if with greater glory we fubmit, Pierc'd by her eyes, her humour, or her wit.

See next her charming fifter, young and gay, In beauty's bloom like the sweet month of May ! The fportful nymph, once in the neighbouring grove Surpris'd by chance the fleeping god of love; His head reclin'd upon a tuft of green,

And by him fcatter'd lay his arrows bright and keen;

She tied his wings, and stole his wanton darts,
Then, laughing, wak'd the tyrant ford of hearts;
He smil'd,—and faid-'Tis well, infulting fair!
Yet how you fport with fleeping love beware!
My lofs of darts I quickly can fupply,
Your looks fhall triumph for love's deity:
And though you now my feeble power difdain,
You once perhaps may feel a lover's pain.

Though Helen's form, and Cleopatra's charmis,
The boaft of fame, once kindled dire alarms:
Those dazzling lights the world no more muft view,
And scarce would think the bright description true,
Did not that ray of beauty, more divine,
In Mira's eyes by transmigration fliine.
Her shape, her air, proportion, lovely face,
And matchlefs ikin contend with rival grace;
And Venus' felf, proud of th' officious aid,
With all her charms adorns th' illuftrious maid.
But hark-what more than mortal founds are
these?

Be ftill, ye whispering winds, and moving trees!
A fecond Mira does all hearts furprise,
At once victorious with her voice and eyes.
Her eyes alone can tenderest love inspire,
Her heavenly voice improves the young defire.
So western gales in fragrant gardens play
On buds produc'd by the fun's quickening ray,
And fpread them into life, and gently chide their
flay.

heir

We court that skill, by which we're sure to die;
The modeft fair would fain our fuit deny,
And fings unwillingly with trembling fear,
As if concern'd our ruin is fo near;

So generous victors fofteft pity know,
And with reluctance trike the fatal blow.
Engaging Cynthia's arm'd with every grace;
Her lovely mind fhines cheerful through her face,
A facred lamp in a fair crystal cafe.
Not Venus ftar, the brightest of the fphere,
Smiles fo ferene, or cats a light fo clear.
O happy brother of this wondrous fair'
The best of fifters well deferves thy care;
Her fighing lovers, who in crowds adore,
Would wish thy place, did they not with for more.
What angels are, when we defire to know,
We form a thought by fuch as the below, [pare,
And thence conclude they're bright beyond com-
Compos'd of all that's good, and all that's fair.

There yet remains unnam'd a dazzling throng
Of nymphs, who to thefe happy fhades belong.
O Venus! lovely queen of foft deures!
For ever dwell where fuch fupply thy fires!
May virtue ftill with beauty share the fway,
And the glad world with willing zeal obey!

TO MOLINDA.

Tu' infpiring mufes and the god of love,
Which mot fhould grace the fair Molinda ftrove?
Love arm'd her with his bow and keeneft darts,
The mufes more enrich'd her mind with arts.
Though Greece in fhining temples heretofore
Did Venus and Minerva's powers adore,
The ancients thought no fingle goddess fit,,
To reign at once o'er beauty and o'er wit;
Each was a separate claim; till now we find
The different titles in Molinda join'd.
From hence, when at the court, the park, the play,
She gilds the evening, or improves the day,
All eyes regard her with tranfporting fire,
One fex with envy burns, and one with fierce defire:
But when withdrawn from public fhew and noise,
In filent works her fancy the employs,
A fmiling train of arts around her stand,
And court improvement from her curious hand.
She, their bright patronefs, o'er all prefides,
And with like skill the pen and needle guides;
By this we lee gay filken landscapes wrought,
By that the landscape of a beauteous thought :
Whether her voice in tuneful airs fhe moves,
Or cuts diffumbled flowers and paper groves,
Her voice tranfports the ear with soft delight,
Her flowers and groves surprise the ravish'd fight
Which ev'n to Nature's wonders we prefer;
All but that wonder Nature form'd in her.