The groves indeed mild breezes move,
But her the gentler gales of Love.
From her the pencil learns its dye-
The rosy lip, the sparkling eye;
And bids the pictured form assume
Bright Helen's mien, and Hebe's bloom.
But how shall I describe her breast?
That now first swells with panting throb
To burst the fond embracing vest,

And emulate her snow-white robe.
So exquisitely soft her limbs !

That not a bone but pliant seems;

As if th' embrace of Love-so warm!
Would quite dissolve her beauteous form.
But when she speaks!-good heavens ! e'en now
Methinks I hear my fav'rite song;

E'en yet with Love's respect I bow

To all th' enchantment of her tongue.
Her voice most clear, yet 'tis not strong;
Her periods full, though seldom long;
With wit, good-natured wit, endow'd;
Fluent her speech, but never loud.
Witness, ye Loves! witness; for well I know
To her you've oft attention given;
Oft pensile flutter'd on your wings of snow
To waft each dying sound to heaven.
Ah! sure this fair enchantress found
The zone which all the Graces bound:
Not Momus could a blemish find
Or in her person or her mind.—
But why should Beauty's goddess spare
To me this all-accomplish'd fair?
I for her charms did ne'er decide,'
As Paris erst on lofty Ide;
I pleased her not in that dispute ;
I gave her not the golden fruit :
Then why the Paphian queen so free?
Why grant the precious boon to me?
Venus! what sacrifice, what prayer
Can show my thanks for such a prize!
-To bless a mortal with a fair,

Whose charms are worthy of the skies.

I for her charms did ne'er decide.] This alludes to the well-known contest between Juno, Venus, and Minerva, for the golden apple.

She too, like Helen, can inspire
Th' unfeeling heart of age with fire;
Can teach their lazy blood to move,
And light again the torch of love.*
"Oh!" cry the old, “that erst such charms
Had bloom'd to bless our youthful arms;
Or that we now were young, to show
How we could love-some years ago!"

Have I not seen th' admiring throng
For hours attending to her song?
Whilst from her eyes such lustre shone,
It added brightness to their own:
Sweet grateful beams of thanks they'd dart,
That showed the feelings of her heart.
Silent we've sat, with rapt'rous gaze!
Silent-but all our thoughts were praise :
Each turned with pleasure to the rest;
And this the prayer that warmed each breast:

"Thus may that lovely bloom for ever glow,
Thus may those eyes for ever shine!
Oh may'st thou never feel the scourge of woe!
Oh never be misfortune thine!

Ne'er may the crazy hand of pining care
Thy mirth and youthful spirits break!
Never come sickness, or love-cross'd despair,
To pluck the roses from thy cheek!

But bliss be thine-the cares which love supplies,
Be all the cares that you shall dread;

The graceful drop, now glist'ning in your eyes,
Be all the tears you ever shed.

But hush'd be now thy am'rous song And yield a theme, thy praises wrong: Just to her charms, thou canst not raise Thy notes-but must I cease to praise? Yes-I will cease-for she'll inspire Again the lay, who strung my lyre.

She too, like Helen, &c.]

Οὐ Νέμεσις, Τρωας καὶ εὐκνημίας ̓Αχαιούς
Τοιῆ δ ̓ ἀμφὶ γυναικὶ πολυν χρόνον άλγεα πάσχειν.
Αἰνῶς ἀθανάτησι θεῆς εἰς ὦπα ἔοικεν.

HOM.

Then fresh I'll paint the charming maid,
Content, if she my strain approves ;
Again my lyre shall lend its aid,

And dwell upon the theme it loves.

EPISTLE II. THE PLEASING CONSTRAINT.*

IN a snug little court as I stood t' other day,
And caroll'd the loitering minutes away;

Came a brace of fair nymphs, with such beautiful faces,
That they yielded in number alone to the Graces:
Disputing they were, and that earnestly too,

When thus they address'd me as nearer they drew :
"So sweet is your voice, and your numbers so sweet,
Such sentiment join'd with such harmony meet;
Each note which you raise finds its way to our hearts,
Where Cupid engraves it wi' the point of his darts:
But oh! by these strains, which so deeply can pierce,
Inform us for whom you intended your verse:
'Tis for her, she affirms-I maintain 'tis for me-
And we often pull caps in asserting our plea."+

"Why, ladies," cried I, "you're both handsome, 'tis true, But cease your dispute, I love neither of you; My life on another dear creature depends;

Her I hasten to visit :-so kiss and be friends."

"Oh ho!" said they, "now you convince us quite clear,

For no pretty woman lives anywhere here

That's plainly a sham. Now, to humour us both,

You shall swear you love neither; so come, take your oath."

I laughing replied, ""Tis tyrannical dealing

To make a man swear, when 'tis plain he's not willing."

"Why, friend, we've long sought thy fair person to seize ; And think you we'll take such excuses as these?

No, 'twas chance brought you hither, and here you shall stay ;Help, Phædra! to hold, or he'll sure get away."

This sufficiently explains itself. It has no names prefixed to it in the original, and is very literally translated.

And we often pull caps, &c.] This is almost literally the Greek expression : Καὶ διὰ σὲ φιλονείκως καὶ μέχρι τριχῶν συμπλεκόμεθα πολλάκις λλήλαις.

Thus spoken, to keep me between 'em they tried;
Twas a pleasing constraint, and I gladly complied.
If I struggled, 'twas to make 'em imprison me more,
And strove-but for shackles more tight than before;
But think not I'll tell how the minutes were spent ;
You may think what you please-but they both were content.

EPISTLE III. THE GARDEN OF PHYLLION.*

PHILOPLATANUS TO ANTHOCOME.

BLEST was my lot-ah! sure 'twas bliss, my friend,
The day-by heavens! the live-long day to spend
With Love and my Limona! Hence! in vain
Would mimic Fancy bring those scenes again;
In vain delighted memory tries to raise
My doubtful song, and aid my will to praise.
In vain! Nor fancy strikes, nor memory knows,
The little springs from whence those joys arose.
Yet come, coy Fancy, sympathetic maid!
Yes, I will ask, I will implore thy aid:
For I would tell my friend whate'er befell;
Whate'er I saw, whate'er I did, I'll tell.
But what I felt-sweet Venus! there inspire
My lay, or wrap his soul in all thy fire.

Bright rose the morn, and bright remain'd the day;
The mead was spangled with the bloom of May:
We on the bank of a sweet stream were laid,
With blushing rose and lowly violets spread;
Fast by our side a spreading plane-tree grew,
And waved its head, that shone with morning dew.
The bank acclivous rose, and swell'd above-
The frizzled moss a pillow for my love.

Trees with their ripen'd stores, glow'd all around,
The loaded branches bow'd upon the ground;

This is surely a most elegant descriptive pastoral, and hardly inferior to any of Theocritus. The images are all extremely natural and simple, though the expression is glowing and luxurious: they are selected from a variety of Greek authors, but chiefly from the Phædrus of Plato.-What intersertions there may be, have been before apologized for; but their detection shall be left to the sagacity or inquisition of the reader. The case is the same with the first Epistle, and indeed with most of them.

Sure the fair virgins of Pomona's train
In those glad orchards hold their fertile reign.
The fruit nectareous, and the scented bloom
Wafted on Zephyr's wing their rich perfume;
A leaf I bruised-what grateful scents arose !*
Ye gods! what odours did a leaf disclose.
Aloft each elm slow waved its dusky top,
The willing vine embraced the sturdy prop:
And while we stray'd the ripen'd grape to find,
Around our necks the clasping tendrils twined;
I with a smile would tell th' entangled fair,
I envied e'en the vines a lodging there;
Then twist them off, and sooth with am'rous play
Her breasts, and kiss each rosy mark away.
Cautious Limona trod-her step was slow-
For much she fear'd the skulking fruits below;
Cautious-lest haply she, with slipp'ry tread,
Might tinge her snowy feet with vinous red.
Around with critic glance we view'd the store,
And oft rejected what we'd praised before;
This would my love accept, and this refuse,
For varied plenty puzzled us to choose.
"Here may the bunches tasteless, immature,
Unheeded learn to blush, and swell secure ;
In richer garb yon turgid clusters stand,

And glowing purple tempts the plund'ring hand."
"Then reach 'em down," she said, "for you can reach,
And cull, with daintiest hand, the best of each."
Pleased I obey'd, and gave my love—whilst she
Return'd sweet thanks, and pick'd the best for me:
'Twas pleasing sure yet I refused her suit,
But kiss'd the liberal hand that held the fruit.

Hard by the ever-jovial harvest train
Hail the glad season of Pomona's reign;
With rustic song around her fane they stand,
And lisping children join the choral band:
They busily intent now strive to aid,
Now first they're taught th' hereditary trade:
Tis theirs to class the fruits in order due,

For pliant rush to search the meadow through:

• A leaf I bruised, &c.] Nothing can be more rural, and at the same time more forcible, than this image; where the universal fragrance of the spot is not expatiated on, but marked at once by this simple specimen.