Her thoughts to all th' extremes of frenzy fly,
Vary, but cannot ease her mifery:
Whilft in her looks the lively forms appear,
Of envy, fondness, fury, and despair.

Her rage no conftant face of forrow wears,
Oft fcornful fmiles fucceed loud fighs and tears;
Oft o'er her face the rifing blushes spread,
Her glowing eye-balls turn with fury red:
Then pale and wan her alter'd looks appear,
Paler than guilt, and drooping with despair.
A tide of paffions ebb and flow within,
And oft the shifts the melancholy scene:
Does all th' excels of woman's fury show,
And yields a large variety of woe.

Now calm as infants at the mother's breast, Her grief in fofteft murmurs is exprest: She speaks the tendereft things that pity move, Kind are her looks, and languishing with love. Then loud as ftorms, and raging as the wind, She gives a loose to her diftemper'd mind: With fhrieks and groans fhe fills the air around, And makes the palace her loud griefs refound.

Wild with her wrongs, the like a fury strays, A fury, more than wife of Hercules: Her motion, looks, and voice, proclaim her woes; While fighs, and broken words, her wilder thoughts disclose.

TO HIS PERJURED MISTRESS.
"Nox erat, et cælo fulgebat luna fereno," &c.

It was one evening, when the rising moon
Amidst her train of stars diftinctly shone;
Berene and calm was the inviting night,
And heaven appear'd in all its luftre bright;
When you, Neæra, you, my perjur'd fair,
Did, to abuse the gods and me, prepare.
'Twas then you fwore-remember, faithlefs maid,
With what endearing arts you then betray'd:
Remember all the tender things that paft,
When round my neck your willing arms were caft.
The circling ivys, when the oaks they join,
Seem loofe, and coy, to thofe fond arms of thine.
Believe, you cry'd, this folemn vow believe,
The nobleft pledge that love and I can give;
Or, if there's ought more facred here below,
Let that confirm my oath to heaven and you :
If e'er my breaft a guilty flame receives,
Or covets joys but what thy prefence gives;
May every injur'd power affert thy cause,
And love avenge his violated laws:
While cruel beafts of prey infeft the plain,
And tempefts rage upon the faithlefs main;
While fighs and tears fhall listening virgins move;
So long, ye powers, will fond Neæra love.

Ah, faithlefs charmer, lovely perjur'd maid! Are thus my vows and generous flame repaid? Repeated flights I have too tamely bore,

Still doated on, and still been wrong'd the more.
Why do I liken to that fyren's voice,
Love ev'n thy crimes, and fly to guilty joys?
Thy fatal eyes my best refolves betray,
My fury melts in soft defires away;

Each look, each glance, for all thy crimes atone, Elude my rage, and I'm again undone.

But if my injur'd foul dares yet be brave, Unless I'm fond of fhame, confirm'd a slave, I will be deaf to that enchanting tongue, Nor on thy beauties gaze away my wrong. At length I'll loath each prostituted grace, Nor court the leavings of a cloy'd embrace; But fhow, with manly rage, my foul's above The cold returns of thy exhausted love. Then thou shalt juftly mourn at my disdain, Find all thy arts and all thy charms in vain : Shalt mourn, whilft I, with nobler flames, pursue Some nymph as fair, though not unjust, as you; Whose wit and beauty shall like thine excel, But far furpass in truth, and loving well.

But wretched thou, whoc'er my rival art, That fondly boasts an empire o'er her heart; Thou that enjoy'ft the fair inconftant prize, And vainly triumph'ft with my victories; Unenvy'd now, o'er all her beauties rove, Enjoy thy ruin, and Neæra's love : Though wealth and honours grace thy nobler birth,

To bribe her love, and fix a wandering faith;
Though every grace and every virtue join,
T'enrich thy mind, and make thy form divine:
Yet bleft, with endless charms, too foon you'll
prove

The treacheries of falfe Neara's love.
Loft and abandon'd by th' ungrateful fair,
Like me you'll love, be injur'd and despair.
When left th' unhappy object of her scorn,
Then fhall I fmile to fee the victor mourn,
Laugh at thy fate, and triumph in my turn.

IMITATION OF HORACE.

BOOK I. ODE XXII.

" Integer vitæ," &c.

THE man that's uncorrupt, and free from guilt,

That the remorfe of fecret crimes ne'er felt $
Whose breast was ne'er debauch'd with fin,
But finds all calm, and all at peace within:
In his integrity secure,

He fears no danger, dreads no power;
Ufelefs are arms for his defence,
That keeps a faithful guard of innocence.
Secure the happy innocent may rove,

The care of every power above;
Although unarm'd he wanders o'er

The treacherous Liby's fands, and faithless shore :
Though o'er th' inhofpitable brows
Of favage Caucafus he goes;

Through Afric's flames, through Scythia'
fnows,

Or where Hydafpes, fam'd for monsters, flows.
For as, within an unfrequented grove,

I tun'd my willing lyre to love,
With pleafing amorous thoughts betray'd,
Beyond my bounds infenfibly I ftray'd;

A wolf that view'd me fled away,
He led from his defenceless prey!

When I invok'd Maria's aid, Although unarm'd, the trembling monfter fled. Not Daunia's teeming fands, nor barbarous fhore,

E'er fuch a dreadful native bore,

Nor Afric's nurfing caves brought forth So fierce a beast, of fuch amazing growth: Yet vain did all his fury prove

Against a breast that's arm'd with love; Though abfent, fair Maria's name Subdues the fierce, and makes the favage tame. Commit me now to that abandon'd place

Where cheerful light withdraws its rays; No beams on barren nature smile, Nor fruitful winds refresh th' intemperate foil; But tempefts, with eternal frofts, Still rage around the gloomy coast: Whilft angry Jove infefts the air, And, black with clouds, deforms the fullen year. Or place me now beneath the torrid zone, To live a borderer on the fun : Send me to fcorching fands, whofe heat Guards the deftructive foil from human feet: Yet there I'll fing Maria's name,

And fport, uninjur'd, 'midft the flame: Maria's name! that will create, ev'n there, A milder climate, and more temperate air!

PATROCLUS'S REQUEST TO ACHILLES

FOR HIS ARMS.

Upbraid not thus th' afflicted with their wort
Nor triumph now the Greeks fuftain fuch lois!
And flow thy mind is like thy birth, divine.
To pity let thy generous breast incline,

For all the valiant leaders of their hoft,
Or wounded lie, or are in battle loft.
Ulyffes great in arms, and Diomede,
Languish with wounds, and in the navy bleed:
This common fate great Agamemnon shares,
And stern Eurypylus, renown'd in wars.
Whilst powerful drugs th' experienc'd artists try,
And to their wounds apt remedies apply:
Eafing th' afflicted heroes with their skill,
Thy breaft alone remains implacable!

What, will thy fury thus for ever laft!
Let prefent woes atone for injuries past:
How can thy foul retain such lafting hate!
Thy virtues are as ufelefs as they're great.
What injur'd friend from thee fhall hope redres,
That will not aid the Greeks in fuch diftrefs?
Ufelefs is all the valour that you boast,
Deform'd with rage, with fullen fury lost.

Could cruelty like thine from Peleus come,
Or be the offspring of fair Thetis' womb!
Thee raging feas, thee boisterous waves brought
forth,

And to obdurate rocks thou ow'ft thy birth!
Thy ftubborn nature ftill retains their kind,
So hard thy heart, fo favage is thy mind.

But, if thy boding breast admits of fear,
Or dreads what facred oracles declare !
What awful Thetis in the courts above
Receiv'd from the unerring mouth of Jove!

Homer.

DIVINE Achilles, with compaffion mov'd,
Thus to Patroclus fpake, his best belov'd.

Why like a tender girl doft thou complain!
That ftrives to reach the mother's breat in vain;
Mourns by her fide, her knees embraces faft,
Hangs on her robes, and interrupts her haste;
Yet, when with fondness to her arms fhe's rais'd,

Still mourns and weeps, and will not be appeas'd!

Thus my Patroclus in his grief appears,
Thus like a froward girl profufe of tears.

From Phthia doft theu mournful tidings hear,
And to thy friend fome fatal message bear?
Thy valiant father (if we fame believe)
The good Menæ ius, he is yet alive :
And Peleus, though in his declining days,
Reigns o'er his Myrmidons in health and peace;
Yet, as their lateft obfequies we paid,
Thou mourn'ft them living, as already dead.

Or thus with tears the Grecian hoft deplore,
That with their navy perifh on the shore;
And with compaffion their misfortunes view,
The just reward to guilt and falsehood due ?
Impartial heaven avenges thus my wrong,
Nor fuffers crimes to go unpunish'd long.
Reveal the caufe fo much afflicts thy mind,
Nor thus conceal thy forrows from thy friend.
When, gently raifing up his drooping head,
Thus, with a figh, the fad Patroclus faid.
Godlike Achilles, Peleus' valiant fon!
Of all our chiefs, the greatest in renown;

And head the warlike fquadrons in thy place:
Whilft me thy valiant Myrmidons obey,
We yet may turn the fortune of the day.
Let me in thy diflinguish'd arms appear,
With all thy dreadful equipage of war;
That when the Trojans our approaches view,
Deceiv'd, they fhall retreat, and think 'tis you.

Thus, from the rage of an infulting host,
We may retrieve that fame the Greeks have loft;

Vigorous and fresh, th' unequal fight renew,

And from our navy force the drooping foe;
O'er harass'd men an eafy conqueft gain,
And drive the Trojans to their walls again.

ON THE

REPRINTING MILTON'S PROSE WORKS,
With bis Poems. Written in bis Paraffe Lef,

THESE facred lines with wonder we peruse,
And praife the flights of a feraphic mufe,
Till thy feditious profe provokes our rage
And foils the beauties of thy brighteft pag
Thus here we fee tranfporting scenes arife,
Heaven's radiant hoft, and opening paradife;
Then trembling view the dread aby's beneath,
Hell's horrid mansions, and the realms of death.

Whilft here thy bold majestic numbers rife,
And range th' embattled legions of the skies,
With armies fill the azure plains of light,
And paint the lively terrors of the fight,

We own the poet worthy to rehearse
Heaven's lafling triumphs in immortal verse:
But when thy impious mercenary pen
Infults the best of princes, best of men,
Our admiration turns to juft difdain,
And we revoke the fond applaufe again.

Like the fall'n angels in their happy ftate,
Thou har'dft their nature, infolence, and fate:
To harps divine, immortal hymns they fung,
As fweet thy voice, as fweet thy lyre was ftrung.
As they did rebels to th' Almighty grow,
So thou profan'ft his image here below.
Apoftate bard! may not thy guilty ghoft,
Difcover to its own eternal cost,

That as they heaven, thou paradise haft loft!

ΤΟ

SIR HUMPHRY MACKWORTH,

ON THE MINES, LATE OF SIR CARBERY PRICE.

WHAT fpacious veins enrich the British foil;
The various ores, and fkilful miner's toil;
How ripening metals lie conceal'd in earth,
And teeming nature forms the wondrous birth;
My ufeful verfe, the firft, tranfmits to fame,
In numbers tun'd, and no unhallow'd flame

O generous Mackworth could the muse impart
A labour worthy thy aufpicious art;
Like thee fucceed in paths untrod before,
And fecret treasures of the land explore;
Apollo's felf fhould on the labour fmile,
And Delphos quit for Britain's fruitful ifle.
Where fair Sabrina flows around the coast,
And aged Dovey in the ocean's loft,

Her lofty brows unconquer'd Britain rears,
And fenc'd with rocks impregnable appears:
Which like the well-fix'd bars of nature show,
To guard the treasures fhe conceals below.
For earth, diftorted with her pregnant womb,
Heaves up to give the forming embryo room:
Hence vaft excrefcences of hills arife,
And mountains fwell to a portentous fize.
Louring and black the rugged coaft appears,
The fullen earth a gloomy furface wears;
Yet all beneath, deep as the centre, fhines
With native wealth, and more than India's mines.
Thus erring nature her defects fupplies,
Indulgent oft to what her fons defpife:
Oft in a rude, unfinish'd form, we find
The noblest treasure of a generous mind.
Thrice happy land! from whofe indulgent womb,
Such unexhaufted flores of riches come !
By heaven belov'd! form'd by autpicious fate,
To be abovethy neighbouring nations great!
Its golden fands no more shall Tagus boast,
In Dovey's flood his rival'd empire's loft;
Whofe waters how a nobler fund maintain,
To humble France, and check the pride of Spain.
Like Egypt's Nile the bounteous current shows,
Difperfing bleflings whereloe'er it flows;
Whofe native treasure's able to repair
The long expences of our Gallic war.

The ancient Britons are a hardy race, Averfe to luxury and flothful eafe; Their necks beneath a foreign yoke ne'er bow'd, In war unconquer'd, and of freedom proud; With minds refolv'd they lafting toils endure, Unmix'd their language, and their manners pure Wifely does nature fuch an offspring choofe, Brave to defend her wealth, and flow to use. Where thirst of empire ne'er inflames their veins, Nor avarice, nor wild ambition reigns:

But, low in mines, they conftant toils renew,
And through the earth their branching veind
purfue.

As when fome navy on th' Iberian coast,
Chas'd by the winds, is in the ocean loft;
To Neptune's realms a new fupply it brings,
The strength defign'd of European kings:
Contending divers would the wreck regain,
And make reprifals on the grasping main :
Wild in purfuit they are endanger'd more,
Than when they combated the ftorms before.
The miner thus through perils digs his way,
Equal to theirs, and deeper than the fea;
Drawing, in peftilential teams, his breath,
Refolv'd to conquer, though he combats death.
Night's gloomy realms his pointed steel invades,
The courts of Pluto, and infernal fhades:
He cuts through mountains, fubterraneous lakes,
Plying his work, each nervous ftroke he takes
Loofens the earth, and the whole cavern shakes.
Thus, with his brawny arms, the Cyclops ands,
To form Jove's lightning with uplifted hands;
The ponderous hammer with a force defeends,
Loud as the thunder which his art intends;
And as he ftrikes, with each refiftlefs blow
The anvil yields, and Ætna groans below.

Thy fam'd inventions, Mackworth, most adorn
The miner's art, and make the bett return:
Thy fpeedy fails, and ufeful engines, show
A genius richer than the mines below.
Thousands of flaves unfkill'd Peru maintains;
The hands that labour ftill exhaust the gains:
The winds, thy flaves, their ufeful fuccour join,
Convey thy ore, and labour at thy mine;
Inftructed by thy arts, a power they find
To vanquish realms, where once they lay confin'd.
Downward, my mufe, direct thy steepy flight,
Where fmiling fhades and beauteous realms invite;
I first of British bards invoke thee down,
And first with wealth thy graceful temples crown,
Through dark retreats purfue the winding ore,
Search nature's depths, and view her boundless
ftore;

The fecret caufe in tuneful measures fing,
How metals first are fram'd, and whence they spring.
Whether the active fun, with chemic flames,
Through porous earth tranfmits his genial beams;
With heat impregnating the won.b of night,
The offspring fhines with its paternal light:
On Britain's ifle propitiously he fhines,
With joy defcends, and labours in her mines.
Or whether, urg'd by fubterraneous flames,
The earth ferments, and flows in iquid ftreams;
Purg'd from their drofs, the nobler arts refine,
Receive new forms, and with fresh beauties fine.

Thus fluid parts, unknowing how to burn,
With cold congeal'd, to folid metals turn:
For metals only from devouring flame
Preferve their beauty, and return the fame;
Both art and force the well-wrought mass difdains,
And 'midft the fire its native form retains.
Or whether by creation first they sprung,
When yet unpois'd the world's great fabric hung:
Metals the basis of the earth were made,
The bars on which its fix'd foundation's laid:
All fecond caufes they difdain to own,
And from th' Almighty's fiat fprung alone.
Nature in fpecious beds preferves her store,
And keeps unmix'd the well-compacted ore;
The fpreading root a numerous race maintains
Of branching limbs, and far-extended veins?
Thus, from its watery store, a fpring fupplies
The leffer ftreams that round its fountain rife;
Which bounding out in fair meanders play,
And o'er the meads in different currents stray.
Methinks I fee the rounded metal spread,
To be ennobled with our monarch's head:
About the globe th' admired coin shall run,
And make the circle of its parent fun.

How are thy realms, triumphant Britain, bleft!
Enrich'd with more than all the diftant weft!
Thy fons, no more betray'd with hopes of gain,
Shall tempt the dangers of a faithless main,
Traffic no more abroad for foreign spoil,
Supplied with richer from their native foil.
To Dovey's flood shall numerous traders come,
Employ'd to fetch the British bullion home.
To pay their tributes to its bounteous fhore,
Returning laden with the Cambrian ore.
Her abfent fleet Potofi's race fhall mourn,
And wish in vain to see our fails return;
Like mifers heaping up their useless store,
Starv'd with their wealth, amidst their riches poor.
Where-e'er the British banners are display'd,
The fupliant nations fhall implore our aid:
Till, thus compell'd, the greater worlds confess
Themfelves oblig'd, and fuccour'd by the lefs.
How Cambria's mines were to her offspring
known,

Thus facred verfe tranfmits the story down:
Merlin, a bard of the inspired train,
With myftic numbers charm'd the British plain;
Belov'd by Phoebus, and the tuneful nine,
His fong was facred, and his art divine:
As on Sabrina's fruitful banks he stood,

His wondrous verfe reftrain'd the liftening flood;
The ftream's bright goddefs rais'd her awful head,
And to her cave the artful fhepherd led.
Her fwift-defcending fteps the youth pursues,
And rich in ore the fpacious mountain views.
In beds diftin&t the well rang'd metals lay,
Difperfing rays, and counterfeiting day.
The filver, fhedding beams of orient light,
Struck with too fierce a glare his aking fight;
Like rifing flames the ruddy copper show'd,
And spread its blushes o'er the dark abode :
Profufe of rays, and with unrival'd beams,
The liquid filver flow'd in restless streams:
Nor India's fparkling gems are half fo bright,
Nor waves above, that thine with heavenly light;

When thus the goddess fpake? Harmonious youth
Rever'd for numbers fraught with facred truth!
Belov'd by heaven! attend while I relate
The fix'd decree, and dark events of fate.
Conceal'd these treasures lie in nature's womb,
For future times, and ages yet to come.
When many long revolving years are run,
A hero fhall afcend the British throne,
Whose numerous triumphs shall Augusta grace,
In arms renown'd, ador'd for plenteous peace.
Beneath his fway a generous youth shall rise,
With virtues bleft, in happy councils wife;
Rich with the spoils of learning's various fore;
Commanding arts, yet ftill acquiring more.
He, with fuccefs, fhall enter this abode,
And nature trace in paths before untrod;
The fmiling offspring from her womb remove,
And with her entrails glad the realms above.

O youth referv'd by more auspicious fate, With fam'd improvements to oblige the state! By wars impoverish'd, Albion mourns no more, Thy well-wrought mines forbid her to be paar: The earth, thy great exchequer, ready lies, Which all defect of failing funds fupplies; Thou shalt a nation's preffing wants relieve, Not war can lavish more than thou canst give.

This, Mackworth, fixes thy immortal name, The mufe's darling, and the boast of fame; No greater virtues on record shall stand, Than thus with arts to grace, with wealth enrich the land.

OVID'S ART OF LOVE.
BOOK II.

Now to Paan fing! now wreaths prepare!
And with repeated los fill the air:
The prey is fall'n in my fuccefsful toils,
My artful nets enclose the lovely fpoils:
My numbers now, ye fmiling lovers, crown,
And make your poet deathlefs in renown:
With lafting fame my verfe fhall be inroll',
And I preferr'd to all the bards of old.
Thus Paris from the warlike Spartans bore
Their ravish'd bride; to Ida's distant shore
Victorious Pelops thus in triumph drove
The vanquish'd maid, and thus enjoy'd his love.

Stay, eager youth! your bark's but under fa!
The diftant port requires a profperous gale.
'Tis not enough the yielding beauty's found,
And with my aid your artful paffion crown'd;
The conquefts our fuccessful condu& gain'd,
With art must be secur'd, by arts maintain'd.
The glory's more to guard, than win the prize;
There all the toil and threatening danger litt
If ever, Cupid, now indulgent prove,
O Venus! aid; thou charming queen of love!
Kind Erato, let thy aufpicious name
Infpire the work, and raife my generous fame.
The labour's great! a method I design
For love; and will the fetter'd god Confine:
The god that roves the spacious world around,
In every clime, and diftant region found;

Active and light, his wings elude our guard,
And to confine a deity is hard :

His gueft from flight Minos enclos'd around,
Yet he with wings a daring paffage found.
Thus Dædalus her offspring first confin'd:
Who with a bull in lewd embraces join'd:
Her teeming womb the horrid crime confefs'd;
Big with a human bull, half man, half beast.
Said he, juft Minos, beft of human-kind,
Thy mercy let a proftrate exile find.
By fates compell'd my native fhores to fly,
1 Permit me, where I durft not live, to die.
#Enlarge my fon, if you neglect my tears,
And how compaflion to his blooming years:
Let not the youth a long confinement mourn,
Oh free the fon, or let his fire return!
Thus he implor'd, but ftill implor'd in vain,
Nor could the freedom that he fought, obtain.
Convinc'd at length: Now, Dædalus, he cry'd,
Here's fubject for thy art that's yet untry'd,
Minos the earth commands, and guards the fea,
No pafs the land affords, the deep no way:
Heaven's only free, we'll heaven's aufpicious"
height

Attempt to pafs, where kinder fates invite!
Favour, ye powers above, my daring flight;
Misfortunes oft prove to invention kind,
Inftruct our wit, and aid the labouring mind:
For who can credit men, in wild despair,
Should force a paffage through the yielding air!
Feathers for wings defign'd the artist chose,
And bound with thread his forming pinions close :
With temper'd wax the pointed ends he wrought, |
And to perfection his new labours brought.
The finish'd wings his fmiling offspring views,
Admires the work, not confcious of their ufe:
To whom the father said, obferve aright,
Obferve, my son, these inftruments of flight.
In vain the tyrant our escape retards,
The heavens he cannot, all but heaven he guards;
Though earth and feas elude thy father's care,
Thefe wings fhall waft us through the fpacious
air.

Nor fhall my fon celeftial figns survey,

Far from the radiant virgin take your way: Or where Bootes the chill'd north commands, And with his fauchion dread Orion ftands; I'll go before, me ftill retain in fight, Where-e'er I lead, fecurely make your flight. For fhould we upward foar too near the fun, Diffolv'd with heat, the liquid wax will run : Or near the feas an humbler flight maintain, * Our plumes will suffer by the steaming main. A medium keep, the winds obferve aright: The winds will aid your advantageous flight. He caution'd thus, and thus inform'd him long, As careful birds inftru&t their tender young: The spreading wings then to his fhoulders bound, His body pois'd, and rais'd him from the ground. Prepar'd for flight, his aged arms embrace The tender youth, whilst tears o'erflow his face. A hill there was, from whence the anxious pair Effay'd their wings, and forth they launch'd in air: Now his expanded plumes the artist plies, Regards his fon, and leads along the kies;

Pleas'd with the novelty of flight, the boy
Bounds in the air, and upwards fprings with joy.
The angler views them from the distant strand,
And quits the labours of his trembling hand.
Samos they país, and Naxos in their flight,
And Delos, with Apollo's prefence bright.
Now on their right Lebinthos' fhores they found
For fruitful lakes and fhady groves renown'd.
When the afpiring boy forgot his fears,
Rafh with hot youth and inexperienc'd years;
Upwards he foar'd, maintain'd a lofty stroke,
And his directing father's way forfook.
The wax, of heat impatient, melted run,
Nor could his wings sustain that blaze of fun,
From heaven he views the fatal depths below,
Whilft killing fears prevent the diftant blow.
His ftruggling arms now no affiftance find,
Nor poife the body, nor receive the wind.
Falling, his father he implores in vain,
To aid his flight, and finking limbs sustain;
His name invokes, till the expiring found
Far in the floods with Icarus was drown'd.
The parent mourns, a parent now no more,
And feeks the abfent youth on every shore ;
Where's my lov'd fon, my Icarus! he cries;
Say in what diftant region of the skies,

Or faithlefs clime, the youthful wanderer flies!
Then view'd his pinions scatter'd o'er the stream,
The fhore his bones receiv'd, the waves his

name.

Minos with walls attempted to detain
His flying guests, but did attempt in vain :
Yet the wing'd god shall to our rules submit,
And Cupid yield to more prevailing wit.

Theffalian arts in vain rafh lovers ufe,
In vain with drugs the fcornful maid abuse:
The skilful'ft potions ineffectual prove,
Ufelefs are magic remedies in love:
Could charms prevail, Circe had prov'd her art,
And found Medea fix'd her Jafon's heart.
Nor tempt with philters the disdainful dame;
They rage infpire, create a frantic flame:
Abstain from guilt, all vicious arts remove,
And make your paffion worthy of her love.
Diftruft your empty form and boafted face;
The nymph engage a thousand nobler ways?
To fix her vanquish'd heart entirely thine,
Accomplish'd graces to your native join.
Beauty's but frail, a charm that foon decays,
Its luftre fades as rolling years increase,
And age still triumphs o'er the ruin'd face.
This truth the fair but short-liv'd lily fhows,
And prickles that furvive the faded rofe.
Learn, lovely boy, be with instruction wife!
Beauty and youth mis-spent are past advice.
Then cultivate thy mind with wit and fame,
Those lasting charms furvive the funeral flame.
With arts and sciences your breast improve,
Of high import are languages in love:
The fam'd Ulyffes was not fair nor young,
But eloquent and charming with his tongue :
And yet for him contending beauties ftrove,
And every fea-nymph fought the hero's love,
Calypfo mourn'd when he forfook her fhores,
And with fond waves detain'd his hafty oars.