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And make the nation, crown'd with glory, fee,
How much it rais'd itself by raising thee!
Now let the fchemes which labour in thy breast,
The long alliance, crown'd with lafting reft,
Weigh all pretences with impartial laws,
And fix the feparate interests of the cause!

These toils the graceful Bolingbroke attends,
A genius fafhion'd for the greatest ends;
Whofe ftrong perception takes the fwifteft flight,
And yet its fwiftnefs ne'er obfcures its fight:
When schemes are fix'd, and each affign'd a part,
None ferves his country with a nobler heart;
Juft thoughts of honour all his mind controul,
And expedition wings his lively foul.
On fuch a patriot to confer the truft,
The monarch knows it fafe, as well as juft.

Then next proceeding in her agents' choice,
And ever pleas'd that worth obtains the voice,
She, from the voice of high-diftinguish'd fanies,
With pious Bristol, gallant Strafford names :
One form'd to ftand a church's firm fupport,
The other fitted to adorn a court:

Both vers'd in business, both of fine addrefs,
By which experience leads to great fuccefs:
And both to diftant lands the monarch fends,
And, to their conduct, Europe's peace commends.
Now fhips unmoor'd, to waft her agents o'er,
Spread all their fail, and quit the flying fhore;
The foreign agents reach th' appointed place,
The congrefs opens, and it will be peace.
Methinks the war, like ftormy winter, flies,
When fairer months unveil the bluish fkies;
A flowery world the sweetest season spreads,
And doves, with branches, flutter round their
heads.

Half-peopled Gaul, whom numerous ills destroy,
With wishful heart, attends the promis'd joy.
For this prepares the duke-ah, sadly flain,
'Tis grief to name him whom we mourn in vain :
No warmth of verfe repairs the vital flame,
For verse can only grant a life in fame;
Yet could my praife, like spicy odours fhed,
In everlafting fong embalm the dead;

To realms that weeping heard the lofs I'd tell,
What courage, fenfe, and faith, with Brandon

fell!

But Britain more than one for glory breeds,
And polish'd Talbot to the charge fucceeds;
Whole far-projecting thoughts, maturely clear,
Like glaffes, draw their distant objects near.
Good parts, by gentle breeding much refin'd,
And stores of learning, grace his ample mind;
A cautious virtue regulates his ways,
And honour gilds them with a thousand rays.
To ferve his nation, at his queen's command,
He parts, commiffion'd for the Gallic land;
With pleasure Gaul beholds him on her fhore,
And learns to love the name the fear'd before.
Once more aloft, there meet for new debates,
The guardian angels of Europa's states:
And mutual concord lines in every face,
And every bofom glows with hopes of peace;
While Britain's fteps, in
fteps, in one confent, they
praise,

Then gravely mourn their other realms delays;

Their doubtful claims, through feas of blood
purfued,

Their fears that Gallia fell but half fubdued;
And all the reafonings which attempt to fhow
That war fhould ravage in the world below.
"Ah, fall'n eftate of man! can rage delight,
"Wounds please the touch, or ruin charm the
fight!

"Ambition make unlovely mischief fair!
"Or ever pride be Providence's care!
"When stern oppreffors range the bloody field,
"'Tis juft to conquer, and unfafe to yield:
"There fave the nations; but no more pursue,
"Nor in thy turn become oppreffor to."

Our rebel angels for ambition fell,
And, war in heaven produc'd a fiend in hell.
Thus, with a foft concern for man's repofe,
The tender guardians join to moan our woes;
Then awful rife, combin'd with all their might,
To find what fury, 'fcap'd the den of night,
The pleafing labours of their love withstands,
And spreads a wild diftraction o'er the lands.
Their glittering pinions found in yielding air,
And watchful Providence approves the care.

In Flandria's foil, where camps have mark'd the
plain,

The fiend, impetuous difcord, fix'd her reign;
A tent her royal feat. With full refort
Stern fhapes of horror throng'd her bufy court;
Blind mischief, ambuíh clofe concealing irc,
Loud threatenings, ruin arni'd with fword and fire;
Affaulting fiercenefs, anger wanting breath,
High reddening rage, and various forms of death;
Dire imps of darkness, whom with gore fhe feeds,
When war beyond its point of good proceeds.
In Gallic armour, call'd with alter'd name
Great love of empire, to the field she came;
Now, ftill fupporting feud, she strives to hide
Beneath that name, and only change the fide:
But, as the whirl'd the rapid wheels around,
Where mangled limbs in heaps pollute the ground
(A fullen joylefs fport); with fearching eye,
The fhining chiefs regard her as they fly;
Then, hovering, dart their beams of heavenly light:
She starts, the fury ftands confefs'd to fight;
And grieves to leave the foil, and yells aloud,
Her yells are anfwer'd by the fable crowd;
And all on bat-like wings (if fame be true)
From Chriftian lands to northern climates flew.
But rifing murmurs from Britannia's fhore
With speed recall her watchful guardian o'er.
He spreads his pinions, and, approaching near,
Thefe hints, in scatter'd words, affault his ear:
The people's power-The grand alliance cross'd,
The peace is feparate-Our religion's loft.
Led by the blatant voice along the fkies,
He comes, where faction over cities flies;
A talking fiend, whom fnaky locks difgrace,
And numerous mouths deform her dufky face;
Whence lies are utter'd, whisper foftly founds,
Sly doubts amaze, or inuendo wounds.
Within her arms are heaps of pamphlets feen,
And thefe blafpheme the Saviour, thofe the queen;
Affociate vices; thus with tongue and hand,
She fhed her venom o'er the troubled land.

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Now vet'd that difcord, and the baneful train

Thus all that poets fancied heaven of old,

That tends on discord, fled the neighbouring | May for the nation's present emblem hold :

plain,

She rag'd to madness; when the guardian came,
And downwards drove her with a fword of flame.
A mountain, gaping to the nether hell,
Receiv'd the fury, railing as the fell:
The mountain clofing o'er the fury lies,

And stops her paffage, where fhe means to rife;
And when the ftrives, or fhifts her fide for ease,
All Britain rocks amidst her circling feas.

Now peace, returning after tedious woes,
Reftores the comforts of a calm repose;

Then bid the warriors fheathe their fanguin'd arms,
Bid angry trumpets cease to found alarms:
Guns leave to thunder in the tortur'd air,
Red streaming colours furl around the fpear;
And each contending realm no longer jar,
But, pleas'd with reft, unharnefs all the war.
She comes, the blefling comes; where'er fhe

moves

New-fpringing beauty all the land improves :
More heaps of fragrant flowers the field adorn,
More sweet the birds falute the rofy morn;
More lively green refreshes all the leaves,
And in the breeze the corn more thickly waves.
She comes, the bleffing comes in easy state,
And forms of brightness all around her wait:
Here fmiling fafety, with her bofom bare,
Securely walks, and cheerful plenty there;
Here wondrous fciences with eagles' fight :
There liberal arts, which make the world polite;
And open traffic, joining hand in hand,
With honeft industry, approach the land.

O, welcome, long-defir'd, and lately found!
Here fix thy feat upon the British ground;
Thy fhining train around the nation fend,
While by degrees the loading taxes end:
While caution calm, yet ftill prepar'd for arms,
And foreign treaties, guard from foreign harms:
While equal justice, hearing every cause,
Makes every fubject join to love the laws.

Where Britain's patriots in council meet,
Let public fafety reft at Anna's feet:
Let Oxford's fchemes the path to plenty show,
And through the realm increasing plenty go.
Let arts and sciences in glory rise,

And pleas'd the world has leifure to be wise;
Around their Oxford and their St. John ftand,
Like plants that flourish by the master's hand :
And fafe in hope the fons of learning wait,
Where learning's felf has fix'd her fair retreat.
Let traffic, cherish'd by the senate's care,
On all the feas employ the wafting air :
And industry, with circulating wing,
Through all the land the goods of traffic bring.
The bleffings fo difpos'd will long abide,

Since Anna reigns, and Harley's thoughts prefide,

Great Ormond's arms the sword of caution wield,
And hold Britannia's broad-protecting fhield;
Bright Bolingbroke and worthy Dartmouth treat,
By fair difpatch, with every foreign ftate;
And Harcourt's knowledge, equitably fhown,
Makes juftice call his firm decrees her own.
VOL. VII.

That Jove imperial fway'd; Minerva wife, And Phoebus eloquent, adorn'd the skies; On arts Cyllenius fix'd his full delight,

Mars rein'd the war, and Themis judg'd the right: All mortals, once beneficently great,

(As fame reports) and rais'd in heavenly state; Yet, fharing labours, ftill they fhunn'd repofe, To fhed the bleffings down by which they rofe. Illuftrious queen, how Heaven hath heard thy prayers!

What ftores of happiness attend thy cares!

A church in fafety fix'd, a state in reft,
A faithful ministry, a people bless'd;

And kings, fubmiflive at thy foot-ftool thrown,
That others rights restore, or beg their own.
Now rais'd with thankful mind; and rolling flow,
In grand proceffion to the temple go,

By fuow-white horfes drawn ; while founding fame
Proclaims thy coming, praise exalts thy name;
Fair honour, drefs'd in robes, adorns thy ftate,
And on thy train the crowded nations wait;
Who, preffing, view with what a temper'd grace
The looks of majefty compofe thy face;
And mingling fweetnefs fhines, or how thy drefs,
And how thy pomp, an inward joy confess;
Then, fill'd with pleasures to thy glory due,
With fhouts, the chariot moving on, pursue.

As when the Phoenix from Arabia flown
(If any Phoenix were by Anna known)
His fpice at Phoebus' fhrine prepar'd to lay,
Where'er their monarch cut his airy way;
The gathering birds around the wonder flew,
And much admir'd his fhape, and much his hue;
The tuft of gold that glow'd above his head,
His fpacious train with golden feathers spread ;
His gilded bosom, speck'd with purple pride,
And both his wings in gloffy purple dy'd:
He fill pursues his way; with wondering eyes
The birds attend, and follow where he flies.

Thrice happy Britons, if at last you know 'Tis lefs to conquer, than to want a foe; That triumphs ftill are made for war's decrease, When men, by conqueft, rife to views of peace; That over toils for peace in view we run, Which gain'd, the world is pleas'd, and war is done.

Fam'd Blenheim's field, Ramillies' noble feat,
Blaregni's desperate act of gallant heat,

Or wondrous Winendale, are war purfued,
By wounds and deaths, through plains with blood

embrued;

But good design, to make the world be still,
With human grace adorns the needful ill.
This and obtain'd, we close the scenes of rage,
And gentler glories deck the rifing age.
Such gentler glories, fuch reviving days,
The nation's wishes, and the ftatefman's praise :
Now pleas'd to fhine, in golden order throng,
Demand our annals, and enrich our fong.
Then go where Albion's cliffs approach the fkies
(The fame of Albion fo deferves to rife);
And, deep engrav'd for time, till time shall ceafe,
Upon the ftones their fair infcription place,

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Iberia rent, the power of Gallia broke,
Batavia rescued from the threaten'd yoke;
The royal Auftrian rais'd, his realms reftor'd,
Great Britain arm'd, triumphant and ador'd;
Its ftate enlarg'd, its peace reftor'd again,
Are bleffings all adorning Anna's reign.

TO DR. SWIFT,

ON HIS BIRTH-DAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1713.

URG'D by the warmth of friendship's facred flanië,
But more by all the glories of thy fame;
By all thofe offsprings of thy learned mind,
In judgment folid, as in wit refin'd,
Refolv'd I fing. Though labouring up the way
To reach my theme, O Swift, accept my lay.

Rapt by the force of thought, and rais'd above,
Through contemplation's airy fields I rove;
Where powerful fancy purifies my eye,
And lights the beauties of a brighter sky;
Fresh paints the meadows, bids green fhades afcend,
Clear rivers wind, and opening plains extend;
Then fills its landfcape through the varied parts
With virtues, graces, fciences, and arts:
Superior forms, of more than mortal air,
More large than mortals, more ferenely fair.
Of thefe two chiefs, the guardians of thy name,
Confpire to raise thee to the point of fame.
Ye future times, I heard the filver found!
I saw the graces form a circle round '
Each, where fhe fix'd, attentive feem'd to root,
And all, but elcquence herfelf, was mute.

High o'er the reft I see the goddess rise, Loofe to the breeze her upper garment flies: By turns, within her eyes the peffions burn, And fofter paffions languish in their turn: Upon her tongue perfuafion or command, And decent action dwells upon her hasd.

From out he breaft ('twas there the treasure lay)
She drew thy labours to the blaze of day;
Then gaz'd, and read the charmis fhe could infpire,
And taught the liftening audience to admire,
How ftrong thy flight, how large thy grafp of
thought.

How juft thy fchemes, how regularly wrought;
How fure you wound when ironies deride,
Which must be feen, and feign to turn aside.
'Twas thus exploring she rejoic'd to fee
Her brighteft features drawn fo near by thee:
"Then here," he cries, "let future ages dwell,
"And learn to copy, where they can't excel."

she fpake. Applaufe attended on the clofe:
Then poefy, her fifter art, arose;
Her fairer fifter, born in deeper ease,
Not made fo much for bufinefs, more to pleafe.
Upon her cheek fits beauty, ever young;
The foul of mufic warbles on her tougue;
Bright in her eyes a pleafing ardour glows,
And from her heart the fweeteft temper flows:
A laurel wreath adorns her curls of hair,
And binds their order to the dancing air:
She thakes the colours of her radiant wing,
And, from the spheres, he takes a pitch to fing.

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Thrice happy genius his, whofe works have hit The lucky point of bufinefs and of wit.

They feem like fhowers, which April months prepare

To call their flowery glories up to air:

The drops, defcending, take the painted bow,
And dress with sunshine, while for good they flow.

To me retiring oft, he finds relief

In flowly wafting care and biting grief :
From me retreating oft, he gives to view
What cafes care and grief in others too.

Ye fondly grave, be wife enough to know,

Life, ne'er unbent, were but a life of woe." Some, full in ftretch for greatness, some for gain, On his own rack each puts himself to pain. I'll gently steal you from your toils away, Where balmy winds with fcents ambrofial play; Where, on the banks as cryftal rivers flow, They teach immortal anaranths to grow: Then, from the mild indulgence of the fcene, Reflore your tempers ftrong for toils again.

She ceas'd. Soft mufic trembled in the wind,
And fweet delight diffus'd through every mind:
The little fmiles, which ftill the goddess grace,
Sportive arcfe, and ran from face to face.
But chief (and in that place the virtues blefs)
A gentle band their eager joys express:
Here, friendship afks, and love of merit longs
To hear the goddeffes renew their fongs;
Here great benevolence to man is pleas'd;
Thefe own their Swift, and grateful hear him
prais'd.

You gentle band, you well may bear your part,
You reign fuperior graces in his heart.

O Swift if fame be life (as well we know
That bards and heroes have efteem'd it fo);
Thou canst not wholly die. Thy works will shine
To future times, and life in fame be thine.

ON

BISHOP BURNET'S

BEING SET ON FIRE IN HIS CLOSET.

FROM that dire æra, banc to Sarum's pride,
Which broke his schemes, and laid his friends afide,
He talks and writes that Popery will return,
And we, and he, and all his works will burn.
What touch'd himself was almoft fairly prov'd:
(Oh, far from Britain be the reft remov'd!)
For, as of late he meant to blefs the age,
With flagrant prefaces of party rage,
O'erwrought with paffion, and the (ubject's weight,
Lolling, he nodded in his elbow-feat;
Down fell the candle; greafe and zeal confpire,
Heat meets with heat, and pamphlets, burn their
fire.

Here crawls a preface on its half-burn'd maggots,
And there an introduction brings its faggots:
Then roars the prophet of the northern nation,
Scorch'd by a flaming fpeech on moderation.

Unwarn'd by this, go on, the realm to fright,
Thou Briton vaunting in thy fecond-fight!
In fuch a miniftry you fafely tell,
How much you'd fuffer, if reigion fell.

"

ELYSIUM.

I airy fields, the fields of blifs below,
Where woods of myrtle. fet by Maro, grow;
Where grafs beneath, and fhade diffus'd above,
Refresh the fevers of diftracted love:
There, at a folemn tide, the beauties, flain
By tender paffion, act their fates again,
Through gloomy light, that just betrays the grove,
In orgies, all difconfolately rove:

They range the reeds, and o'er the poppies sweep,
That nodding bend beneath their load of fleep,
By lakes fubfiding with a gentle face,
And rivers gliding with a filent pace;
Where kings and fwains, by ancient authors fung,
Now chang'd to flowerets o'er the margin hung;
The self-admirer, white Narciffus, fo
Fades at the brink, his picture fades below:
In bells of azure, Hyacinth arose;

In crimson painted, young Adonis glows;
The fragrant Crocus fhone with golden flame,
And leaves infcrib'd with Ajax' haughty name.
A fad remembrance brings their lives to view,
And, with their paflion, makes their tears renew;
Unwinds the years, and lays the former scene,
Where, after death, they live for deaths again.
Loft by the glories of her lover's flate,
Deluded Semele bewails her fate;
And runs, and feems to burn, the flames arife,
And fan with idle fury as the flies.

The lovely Canis, whofe transforming shape
Secur'd her honour from a fecond rape,
Now moans the firft, with ruffled drefs appears,
Feels her whole fex return, and bathes with tears.
The jealous Procris wipes a feeming wound,
Whofe trickling crimson dyes the bushy ground;
Knows the fad fhaft, and calls before the go,
To kifs the favourite hand that gave the blow.
Where Ocean feigns a rage, the Seflian fair
Holds a dim taper from a tower of air;
A noiseless wind affaults the wavering light,
The beauty tumbling mingles with the night.
Where curling fhades for rough Leucate rofe,
With love distracted tuneful Sappho goes;
Sings to mock clifts a melancholy lay,
And with a lover's leap affrights the sea.
The fad Eryphile retreats to moan,

What wrought her husband's death, and caus'd

her own;

Surveys the glittering veil, the bribe of fate,
And tears the fhadow, but the tears too late.
In thin defign, and airy picture, fleet
The tales that ftain the royal houfe of Crete;
To court a lovely bull, Pafiphae flies,
The fnowy phantom feeds before her eyes.
Loft Ariadne raves, the thread the bore
Trails on unwinding, as fhe walks the fhore;
And Phædra, defperate, feeks the lonely groves,
To read her guilty letter while fhe roves;
Red fhame confounds the firft, the fecond wears
A ftarry crown, the third a halter bears.
Fair Laodamia mourns her nuptial night
Of love defrauded by the thirft of fight;
Yet, for another as delufive cries,

And, dauntless, fees her heroe's ghoft arife.

Here Thisbe, Canace, and Dido, ftand, All arm'd with fwords, a fair, but angry band: The fword a lover own'd; a father gave The next; a ftranger chanc'd the last to leave.

And there, ev'n fhe, the goddefs of the grove, Join'd with the phantom-fairs, affects to rove, As once, for Latmos, the forfook the plain, To fteal the kiffes of a flumbering fwain: Around her head a ftarry fillet twines, And at the front a filver crefcent fhines.

These, and a thoufand, and a thousand more, With facred rage recall the pangs they bore, Strike the deep dart afresh, and afk relief, Or footh the wound with foftening words of grief, At fuch a tide, unheedful love invades The dark receffes of the madding fhades; Through long defcent he fans the fogs around; His purple feathers, as he flies, refound. The nimble beauties, crowding all to gaze, Perceive the common troubler of their cafe; Though dulling mifts and dubious day deftroy The fine appearance of the fluttering boy, Though all the pomp that glitters at his fide, The golden belt, the clafp and quiver hide; And though the torch appear a gleam of white, That faintly fpots, and moves in haży night, Yet ftill they know the god, the general foe, And threatening lift their airy hands below.

From hence they lead him where a myrtle

ftood,

The faddeft myrtle in the mournful wood;
Devote to vex the gods, 'twas here before
Hell's awful emprefs foft Adonis bore,
When the young hunter fcorn'd her graver air,
And only Venus warm'd his fhadow there.

Fix'd to the trunk the tender boy they bind,
They cord his feet beneath, his hands behind;
He mourns, but vainly mourns his angry fate,
For beauty, ftill relentlefs, acts in hate.
Though no offence be done, no judge be nigh,
Love must be guilty by the common cry;
For all are pleas'd, by partial paffion led,
To fhift their follies on another's head.

Now fharp reproaches ring their fhrill alarms
And all the heroines brandish all their arms;
And every heroine makes it her decree,
That Cupid fuffer juft the fame as fhe.
To fix the defperate halter one effay'd,
One feeks to wound him with an empty blade.
Some headlong hang the nodding rocks of air,
They fall in fancy, and he feels despair.
Some tofs the hollow feas around his head
(The feas that want a wave afford a dread).
Or fhake the torch, the fparkling fury flies,
And flames that never burn'd afflict his eyes.

The mournful Myrrha burfts her rended womb, And drowns his vifage in a noift perfume. While others, seeming mild, advise to wound With humorous pains by fly derifion found. That prickling bodkins teach the blood to flow, From whence the rofes firft begin to glow; Or in their flames, to finge the boy prepare, That all fhould choose by wanton fancy where. The lovely Venus, with a bleeding breast, She too fecurely through the circle preft,

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Forgot the parent, urg'd his hafty fate,
And fpurr'd the female rage beyond debate ;
O'er all the scenes of frailty swiftly runs,
Abfolves herself, and makes the crime her fon's,
That clafp'd in chains with Mars fhe chanc'd to
lie,

A noted fable of the laughing fky;

That, from her love's intemperate heat, began
Sicanian Eryx, born a savage man;

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The loose Priapus, and the monfter wight,
In whom the fexes fhamefully unite.

Nor words fuffice the goddess of the fair,
She fnaps the rofy wreath that binds her hair
Then on the God, who fear'd a fiercer woe,
Her hands, unpitying, dealt the frequent blow:
From all his tender fkin a purple dew

The dreadful fcourges of the chaplet drew,
From whence the rofe, by Cupid ting'd before,
Now, doubly tinging, flames with luftre more.

Here ends their wrath, the parent feems fevere, The ftroke's unfit for little Love to bear;

To fave their foe the melting beauties fly,
And, cruel mother, spare thy child, they cry.
To love's account they plac'd their death of late,
And now transfer the fad account to fate:
The mother, pleas'd, beheld the ftorm affwage,
Thank'd the calm mourners, and difmifs'd her
rage,

Thus fancy, once in dufky fhade exprefs'd,
With empty terrors work'd the time of reft.
Where wretched love endur'd a world of woe,
For all a winter's length of night below.
'Then foar'd, as fleep diffolv'd, unchain'd away,
And through the port of ivory reach'd the day.
As, mindlefs of their rage, he flowly fails.
On pinions cumber'd in the mifty vales;
(Ah, fool to light!) the nymphs no more obey,
Nor was this region ever his to fway:
Caft in a deepen'd ring they clofe the plain,
And feize the god, reluctant all in vain.

THE JUDGMENT OF PARIS.,

WHERE waving pines the brows of Ida fhade,
The fwain, young Paris, half fupinely laid, [rove,
Saw the loofe flocks through fhrubs unnumber'd
And, piping, call'd them to the gladded grove.
'Twas there he met the meffage of the fkies,
That he, the judge of beauty, deal the prize.
The message known; one love with anxious mind,
To make his mother guard the time affign'd,
Drew forth her proud white fwans, and trac'd the
pair

That wheel her chariot in the purple air:
A golden bow behind his shoulder bends,
A golden quiver at his fide depends;
Pointing to these he nods, with fearless ftate,
And bids her fafely meet the grand debate.
Another love proceeds, with anxious care,
To make his ivory fleck the fhining hair;
Moves the loofe curls, and bids the forehead show,
In full expanfion, all its native fnow.
A third enclafps the many-colour'd ceft,
And, rul'd by fancy, fets the filver veft;

When, to her fons, with intermingled fighs,
The goddess of the rofy lips applies:

'Tis now, my darling boys, a time to show
The love you feel, the filial aids you owe:
Yet, would we think that any dar'd to strive
For charms, when Venus and her love's alive?
Or fhould the prize of beauty be deny'd,
Has beauty's emprefs aught to boast befide?
And, ting'd with poifon, pleafing while it harms,
My darts I trufted to your infant arms;

If, when your hands have arch'd the golden bow,
The world's great Ruler, bending, owns the blow,
Let no contending form invade my due,
Tall Juno's mien, nor Pallas' eyes of blue.
But, grac'd with triumph, to the Paphian shore
Your Venus bears the palms of conqueft o'er;
And joyful fee my hundred altars there,
With coftly gums perfume the wanton air.

While thus the Cupids hear the Cyprian dame,
The groves refounded where a goddess came.
The warlike Pallas march'd with mighty stride,
Her fhield forgot, her helmet laid aside.
Her hair unbound, in curls and order flow'd,
And peace, or fomething like, her visage fhew'd;
So, with her eyes ferene, and hopeful haste,
The long-stretch'd alleys of the wood fhe trac'd;
But, where the woods a fecond entrance found,
With fcepter'd pomp and golden glory crown'd,
The ftately, Juno ftalk'd, to reach the feat,
And hear the fentence in the last debate;
And long, feverely long, resent the grove;
In this, what boots it she's the wife of Jove?

Arm'd with a grace at length, fecure to win, The lovely Venus, fmiling, enters in; All fweet and fhining, near the youth fhe drew, Her rofy neck ambrofial odours threw ; The facred fcents diffus'd among the leaves, Ran down the woods, and fill'd their hoary caves; The charms, fo amorous all, and each so great, The conquer'd judge no longer keeps his seat ; Opprefs'd with light, he drops his weary'd cyės, And fears he should be thought to doubt the prize

ON

MRS. ARABELLA FERMOR

LEAVING LONDON.

FROM town fair Arabella flies:

The beaux unpowder'd grieve;
The rivers play before her eyes;
The breezes, foftly breathing, rise;
The spring begins to live.
Her lovers fwore, they must expire:
Yet quickly find their ease;
For, as fhe goes, their flames retire,
Love thrives before a nearer fire,
Efteem by distant rays.

Yet foon the fair-one will return,
When fummer quits the plain :
Ye rivers, pour the weeping urn;
Ye breezes, fadly fighing, mourn ;
Yc lovers, burn again,

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