For when thy folding ftar arifing fhews

His paly circlet, at his warning lamp
The fragrant Hours, and elves

Who flept in flow'rs the day,

And many a nymph who wreathes her brows with fedge,
And sheds the fresh'ning dew; and lovelier ftill,

The penfive Pleasures sweet;

Prepare thy fhadowy car.

Then lead, calm vot'refs, where some sheety lake
Chears the lone heath, or some time-hallow'd pile,
Or upland fallows grey,

Reflect it's laft cool gleam."

But when chill blufl'ring winds, or driving rain,
Forbid my willing feet, be mine the hut,
That from the mountain's fide

Views wilds, and fwelling floods,

And hamlets brown, and dim-discover'd fpires,
And hears their fimple bell, and marks o'er all
Thy dewy fingers draw

The gradual dusky veil,

While Spring shall pour his show'rs, as oft he wont,
And bathe thy breathing treffes, meekeft Eve!

While Summer loves to sport

Beneath thy ling'ring light;

While fallow Autumn fills thy lap with leaves;
Or Winter, yelling through the troublous air,
Affrights thy fhrinking train,

And rudely rends thy robes;

So long, fure-found beneath the fylvan fhed,
Shall Fancy, Friendship, Science, rose-lipp'd Health,
Thy gentleft influence own,

And hymn thy fav'rite name!

THE ART OF DANCING.

INSCRIBED TO THE RIGHT HON. LADY FANNY FIELDING.

BY SOAME JENYNS, ESQ.

Inceffu patuit Dea.

CANTO I.

VIRG.

N the smooth dance to move with graceful mien,
Eafy with care, and fprightly tho' ferene;
To mark th' inftructions echoing ftrains convey,
And with just steps each tuneful note obey;
I teach. Be prefent, all ye facred choir,
Blow the foft flute, and strike the founding lyre:
When Fielding bids, your kind affistance bring,
And at her feet the lowly tribute fling;

Oh! may her eyes, (to her this verse is due)
What first themselves infpir'd, vouchsafe to view!
Hail, loftiest art! thou canst all hearts infnare,
And make the fairest ftill appear more fair.
Beauty can little execution do,

Unless fhe borrows half her arms from you!
Few, like Pygmalion, doat on lifeless charms,
Or care to clasp a ftatue in their arms;

But breasts of Aint muft melt with fierce defire,
When art and motion wake the fleeping fire.
A Venus, drawn by great Apelles' hand,
May for a while our wond'ring eyes command;
But ftill, tho' form'd with all the pow'rs of art,
The lifeless piece can never warm the heart:
So fair a nymph, perhaps, may please the eye,
Whilft all her beauteous limbs inactive lie;
But when her charms are in the dance display'd,
Then ev'ry heart adores the lovely maid;

This fets her beauty in the faireft light,

And fhews each grace in full perfection bright.
Then, as the turns around, from ev'ry part,
Like porcupines, fhe fends a piercing dart;
In vain, alas! the fond spectator tries
To fhun the pleafing dangers of her eyes;
For, Parthian-like, fhe wounds as fure behind,
With flowing curls, and ivory neck reclin'd
Whether her steps the Minuet's mazes trace,
Or the flow Louvre's more majestick pace;
Whether the Rigadoon employs her care,
Or fprightly Jigg displays the nimble fair;
At ev'ry ftep new beauties we explore,
And worship now, what we admir'd before.
So, when Æneas, in the Tyrian grove,
Fair Venus met, the charming Queen of Love,
The beauteous, goddess, whilst unmov'd she stood,"
Seem'd fome fair nymph, the guardian of the wood;
But when she mov'd, at once her heav'nly mien,
And graceful ftep, confefs'd bright Beauty's queen ;
New glories o'er her form each moment rise,
And all the goddess opens to his eyes.

Now hafte, my Mufe, pursue thy deftin'd way;
What dreffes beft become the dancer, fay:
The rules of dress forget not to impart,
A leffon previous to the dancing art.

The foldier's fcarlet, glowing from afar,

Shews that his bloody occupation's war;
Whilft the lawn band, beneath a double chin,
As plainly speaks divinity within...

The milk-maid safe, thro' driving rains and fnows,
Wrapp'd in her cloak, and propp'd on pattens, goes;
Whilft the foft belle, immur'd in velvet chair,
Needs but the filken fhoe, and trufts her bosom bare,
The woolly drab, and English broad-cloth warm,
Guard well the horfeman from the beating storm;

But

But load the dancer with too great a weight,
And call from ev'ry pore the dewy sweat :
Rather let him his active limbs difplay
In camblet thin, or gloffy paduafoy.
Let no unwieldy pride his fhoulders press,
But airy, light, and easy, be his dress ;
Thin be his yielding sole, and low his heel,
So fhall he nimbly bound, and safely wheel.

But let not precepts known my verse prolong;
Precepts, which ufe will better teach than fong:
For why fhould I the gallant spark command,
With clean white gloves to fit his ready hand?
Or in his fob enlivening fpirits wear,
And pungent falts, to raise the fainting fair?
Or hint, the fword that dangles at his fide,
Should from it's filken bandage be unty'd?
Why should my lays the youthful tribe advise,
Left fnowy clouds from out their wigs arise ?
So fhall their partners mourn their laces fpoil'd,
And fhining filks with greafy powder foil'd.
Nor need I, fure, bid prudent youths beware,
Left with erected tongues their buckles stare;
The pointed fteel fhall oft their flocking rend,
And oft th' approaching petticoat offend.

And now, ye youthful fair, fing to you;
With pleafing fmiles my useful labours view :
For you the filk-worms fine-wrought webs difplay,
And, lab'ring, fpin their little lives away;
For you bright gems with radiant colours glow,
Fair as the dies that paint the heav'nly bow;
For you the fea refigns it's pearly ftore,
And earth unlocks her mines of treasur'd' ore.
In vain yet Nature thus her gifts bestows,
Unless yourselves with art thofe gifts difpofe.

Yet think not, nymphs,' that in the glitt'ring ball,
One form of drefs prefcrib'd can fuit with all.,

One brightest shines, when wealth and art combine
To make the finish'd piece compleatly fine;
When leaft adorn'd, another steals our hearts,
And, rich in native beauties, wants no arts:
In fome are fuch refiftlefs graces found,
That in all dreffes they are fure to wound;
Their perfect forms all foreign aids defpife,

And gems but borrow luftre from their eyes.

Let the fair nymph, in whofe plump cheeks is feen

A constant blush, be clad in chearful green :,
In fuch a dress the fportive fea-nymphs go;
So in their graffy bed fresh roses blow.

The lafs, whofe fkin is like the hazel brown,
With brighter yellow fhould o'ercome her own;
While maids, grown pale with fickness or despair,
The fable's mournful dye fhould chufe to wear:
So the pale moon ftill fhines with pureft light,
Cloath'd in the dufky mantle of the night.

But far from you be all those treach'rous arts,
That wound, with painted charms, unwary hearts.
Dancing's a touchftone that true beauty tries,
Nor fuffers charms that Nature's hand denies a
Tho' for a while we may with wonder view
The rofy blush, and skin of lovely hue,

Yet foon the dance will caufe the cheeks to glow,
And melt the waxen lips, and neck of fnow.
So fhine the fields, in icy fetters bound,
Whilft frozen gems befpangle all the ground.
Thro' the clear chryftal of the glitt'ring fnow,
With scarlet dye the blushing hawthorns glow;
O'er all the plains unnumber'd glories rife,
And a new, bright creation, charms our eyes;
Till Zephyr breathes: then all at once decay
The fplendid fcenes, their glories fade away;
The fields refign the beauties not their own,
And all their snowy charms run trickling down.

Dare