WHEN fpring came on with fresh delight, Green was her robe, and green her wreath, When they met, the dame and boy, Love pair'd the birds through all the grove, 'Tis thus when fpring renews the blood, They meet in every trembling wood, And thrice they make the plumies agree, And every dart they mount with three, And every dart can boast a kind, Which fuits each proper turn of mind. From the towering eagle's plume The generous hearts accept their doom; Shot by the peacock's painted eye, 'The vain and airy lovers die : For careful dames and frugal men, The fhafts are fpeckled by the hen. The pyes and parrots deck the darts, When prattling wins the panting hearts; When from the voice the paffions spring, The warbling finch affords a wing: Together, by the fparrow ftung, Down fall the wanton and the young: And fledg'd by geefe the weapons fly, All this (as late 1 chanc'd to rove) My weapon there unfeather'd flies, By which the links you mind to mind, kd fing ye, how they drank like gods, And how they fought like men. To part the fray, the graces fly, Who make them foon agree: Nay, had the furies felves been nigh, They ftill were three to three. Bacchus appeas'd, rais'd Cupid up, And gave him back his bow; But kept fome darts to ftir the cup, Where fack and fugar flow. Jocus took Comus' rofy crown, And gayly wore the prize, And thrice, in mirth, he pufh'd him down, As thrice he ftrove to rife. Then Cupid fought the myrtle grove, And Venus close embracing love, And Comus loudly curfing wit, Roll'd off to fome retreat; Where boon companions gravely fit Bacchus and Jocus ftill behind, For one fresh glass prepare; They kifs, and are exceeding kind, And vow to be fincere. But part in time, whoever hear This our inftructive fong; For though fuch friendships may be dear, They can't continue long. A FAIRY TALE. IN THE ANCIENT ENGLISH STYLE. IN Britain's ifle, and Arthur's days, Though badly fhap'd he'd been. His mountain back mote well be faid,} He felt the charms of Edith's eyes, Nor wanted hope to gain the prize, Could ladies look within; But one Sir Topaz drcfs'd with art, And, if a fhape could win a heart, He had a shape to win. Edwin, if right I read my fong, 'Twas near an old enchanted court, His heart was drear, his hope was cross'd, 'T'was late, 'twas far, the path was lost That reach'd the neighbour town; With weary steps he quits the fhades, Resolv'd, the darkling dome he treads, And drops his limbs adown. But fcant he lays him on the floor, On all the walls around. Virtue can gain the odds of fate, And from felf fhake off the weight "Upon th' unworthy mind." THE VIGIL OF VENUS. Written in the time of Julius Cafar, and ly LET thofe love BOTU, auho never lov'd before ;. The fpring, the new, the warbling fpring ap pears, The youthful feafon of reviving years; She twines the fhooting myrtle into bowers, Then, rais'd fublimely on her easy throne, 'Twas on that day which faw the teeming flood Let thoje love now, who never lov'd beĵure ; Let those who always lov'd, now love the mare. She paints the purple year with vary'd fhow, The righeft luftre makes her purple bright; | Let thofe now love, who never lov'd before ; Let those who always lov’d, now love the more. Now fair Dione to the myrtle grove Sends the gay nymphs, and fends her tender love. And fhall they venture? Is it fafe to go, While nymphs have hearts, and Cupid wears a bow? Yes, fafely venture, 'tis his mother's will; He walks unarm'd, and undefigning ill, His torch extinct, his quiver useless hung, His arrows idle, and his bow unftrung. And yet, ye nymphs, beware, his eyes have charms; And love that's naked, fill is love in arms. Let shofe love nor', who never lov'd before; Let those ruho always lov'd, now love the more. From Venus' bower to Delia's lodge repairs A virgin train, complete with modeft airs: "Chafte Delia, grant our fuit! or fhun the wood, "Nor ftain this facred lawn with favage blood. "Venus, O Delia! if she could perfuade, "Would afk thy prefence, might fee afk a maid." Here cheerful quires for three aufpicious nights With fungs prolong the pleasurable rites: Here crowds in meafure lightly-decent rove; Or feek by pairs the covert of the grove, Where meeting greens for arbours arch above, And mingling flow'rets frow the fcenes of love. Here dancing Ceres fhakes her golden fheaves; Here Bacchus revels, deck'd with viry leaves: Here Wit's enchanting god, in laurel crown'd, Wakes all the ravifh'd hours with fiver found. Ye fields, ye forests, own Diane's reign, And Delia, hurtrefs Delia, fhun the plain. Let thofe love now, zubo never lov'd before; Lei those who always lov`d, vore love the more. Gay with the bloom of all her opening year, The Queen at Hybla bids her throne appear: And there prefides; and there the favourite band (Her fmding graces) fhare the great command. Now, beauteous Hybla! drefs thy flowery beds With all the pride the lavish featon fheds; Now all thy colours, all thy fragrance yield, And rival Enna's aromatic field. "hearts: s To fill the prefence of the gentle court, 1 With fertile feed the fill'd the pervious earth, Let thofe love now, who never lov'd before; 'Twas the the parent to the Latian shore 'Through various dangers Troy's remainder bore. She won Lavinia for her warlike fon, And, winning her, the Latian empire won. She gave to Mars the maid, whose honour'd womb Swell'd with the founder of immortal Rome. Decoy'd by shows, the Sabine dames fhe led, And taught our vigorous youth the way to wed. Hence fprung the Romans, hence the race divine Through which great Cæfar draws his Julian line. Let thofe love now, who never lov'd before ; Let those who always lav'd, now love the more. In rural feats the foul of pleasure reigns; 'The life of beauty fills the rural scenes; Ev'n love (if fame the truth of love declare) Drew first the breathings of a rural air. Some pleasing meadow pregnant beauty preft, She laid her infant on its flowery breast, From Nature's fweets he fipp'd the fragrant dew, He fmil'd, he kifs'd them, and by kifling grew. Let thofe love now, who never lov'd before; Let those who always lov'd, now love the more. Now bulls o'er ftalks of broom extend their Secure of favours from their lowing brides. How long in coming is my lovely Spring! Let thofe love now, whs never lov'd before ; Let those who always lov'd, now love the more. |