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"Yes, yes," I eagerly replied,

In hopes her naked charms to spy,
"I'll watch your clothes, and by their side
My faithful little dog shall lie."

She bow'd, and doff'd her mantle blue;
Good heavens! what beauties struck my sight:
Thus morn's sweet ruddy skies I view,
Fresh from the midst of lagging night.

Bright polish'd arms, a neck of snow,
Through locks of lovely jet were seen;
Which by their blackness seem'd to throw
An added lustre on her skin.

Two rising globules at her breast,
Whose swelling throb was such,
They seem'd upheaving to be prest,
And sued impatient for the touch.

The wind was hush'd, the sea was calm,

And in she leap'd, and plough'd the tide
The froth that bubbled as she swam,
Lost all its whiteness by her side.

But soon the wave's impetuous gush
Dash'd o'er her form a crimson hue;
She blush'd-you've seen the rosebud blush
Beneath its morning coat of dew.

Askance she view'd the watery space,
Her neck averted from the tide,
As if old Ocean's cold embrace

Would shock her modest virgin-pride.

Each pressing wave, that seem'd to try
With am'rous haste her limbs to kiss,
With coy rebuke she patted by;

Rebuked-but never could dismiss.

Still as she stemm'd her liquid way,
Thought I, a Nereid 'tis that laves:
And when she tired, and left her play,
'Twas Venus rising from the waves.
Then from her oozy bed she sprung,

And shiv'ring on the bank reclined,

The while her dripping locks she wrung,
And spread them to the fanning wind.
Quick to present her clothes I rush,

And towards her stretch my longing arms.
But she repulsed me with a blush-

A blush that added to her charms.

Rage would have sparkled in her eyes;
Yet still they twinkled lovely sweet:
As suns in farthest distant skies

Emit their light without their heat.

Her robe she snatch'd, and round her waist
The azure mantle instant threw.-
"I'm sorry, sir, I'm in such haste;
I thank you-but must bid adieu."
I gently press'd her hand ;-she frown'd;
Yet took she not her hand away:
I kiss'd her hand-she turn'd around
To hide what conscious smiles betray.

At length she broke my rod and net;
Into the sea my capture toss'd:
Then left me vainly to regret

The fish I'd caught, and her I lost.

EPISTLE VIII. FROM THE GROOM OF A KNIGHT IN LOVE.*

ECHEPOLUS TO MELESIPPUS.

"OH! the grace, the art to rein
Fiery coursers round the plain!
See yon valiant hero ride,
Skill'd with either hand to guide:
See how beautiful and strong!
See how swift he glides away!
Sure fell Cupid's arrowy storm

Ne'er assail'd that blooming form.

• This is an odd subject.-While a gentleman was riding on horse-back his groom, struck with his beauty, was exclaiming that sure so glorious a form could never have been in love. This the master overhears, and informs his groom to the contrary; who writes an account of the transaction to his friend.

No 'tis sure Adonis fair,

All the nymphs' peculiar care."
Speaking thus, the cavalier

Chanced my words to overhear.—
"Hush," said he, "thy words are vain :
Love alone can guide the rein.

Love impels, through me, the steed,
Nerves my arm, and fires my speed:
Quick as lightning though we run,
Still dread Cupid urges on.
Mount yon car, begin thy strain ;
Songs best suit the lover's pain."
I submitted-and from him
Took at once the sudden theme.
"Little reck'd I, hapless lord,
Cupid's shaft thy heart had gored:
If so fair a form as thine
Can with hopeless passion pine,
By the Cyprian queen I swear,
All the Loves fell tyrants are.
Yet be't thine to brave the smart,
Boldly bear the tingling dart :-
Well might they disturb your rest,
Who could pierce their mother's breast.'

EPISTLE IX. THE SLIP.

STESICHORUS TO ERATOSTHENES.

A LADY walking in the street
Her lover lately chanced to meet :
But dared not speak when he came nigh,
Nor make a sign, nor wink her eye,
Lest watchful spouse should see or hear:
And servants too were in the rear.
A plea she sought to stop his walk,
To touch his hand, to hear him talk:
A plea she sought, nor sought in vain ;
A lucky scheme inspired her brain.

• Who could pierce, &c.] "Et majores tuos irreverenter pulsasti toties, et ipsam matrem tuam, me inquam ipsam, parricida, denudas quotidie." APOL. MIL. V.

+ Epistle IX. contains the stratagem of a lady who wanted to speak to her lover in the presence of her husband and servants.

Just as they met, she feign'd to trip,
And sprain her ankle in the slip.
The lover, ready at his cue,
Suspected what she had in view;
And as he pass'd at little distance,
Officious ran to her assistance.
Contrived her slender waist to seize,
And catch her snowy hand in his.
With unexpected raptures fill'd,

Through all their veins love instant thrill'd:
Their limbs were palsied with delight,
Which seem'd the trembling caused by fright.
Feigning condolence, he drew near,
And spoke his passion in her ear;
While she, to act the real strain,
Affects to writhe and twist with pain:
A well-concerted plan to kiss

The hand her lover touched with his
Then, looking amorously sly,

She put it to her jetty eye ;

But rubb'd in vain to force a tear
Might seem the genuine fruits of fear.

EPISTLE X.* ACONTIUS AND CYDIPPE.

ERATOCLEA TO DIONYSIS.

LONG buffeted by adverse fate,

The victim of Diana's hate,

At last the blest Acontius led

Cydippe to the bridal bed.

Ne'er had been form'd by Nature's care

So lovely, so complete a pair.

And truth to that belief gave rise,†

That similarities so nice,

By destiny's impulsive act

Each other mutually attract.

Epistle X.] This is an epistolary narration of the loves of Acontius and Cydippe.-Acontius was a youth of the isle of Cea, who going to Delos during the solemnities of Diana, fell in love with Cydippe; and being inferior to her in wealth and rank, he there practised the deceit which is the subject of this Epistle. We find the story in Ovid.

* And truth, &c.]ὁμοίον άγει θεὸς ὡς τὸν ὁμοίον.

On fair Cydippe Beauty's queen
Had lavish'd all her magazine :
From all her charms the magic cest⭑
Reserved, and freely gave the rest :
That cest, not fit for mortal bodies,
Her own prerogative as goddess;
And but for which distinction, no man
Could know th' immortal from the woman.
In three, like Hesiod, to comprise
The graces sparkling in her eyes,
Were idle; since to count them all,
A thousand were a sum too small.
Nor were his eyes devoid of light,
Bold and yet modest, sweet though bright:
Whilst health and glowing vigour spread
His downy cheek with native red.
Numbers from every quarter ran,
To see this master-piece of man:
Crowds at the Forum might you meet,
-And if he did but cross the street,
Th' applauding train his steps pursued,
And praised and wonder'd as they view'd.
Such was th' accomplish'd youth, whose breast
The fair Cydippe robb'd of rest.

And 'twas but justice that the swain
For whom so many sigh'd in vain,
Should feel how exquisite the smart
That rankles in a lover's heart.-
So Cupid, throwing to the ground
His shafts that tickle while they wound,
Aim'd at the youth with all his strength
An arrow of a wondrous length :
His aim, alas! was all too true;
Quick to its goal the weapon flew.-
But when Acontius felt the blow,
What language can express his woe?
The fair one's heart he vow'd to move,t

Or end at once his life and love.

• From all her charms, &c.] Homer tells us of this magic girdle be longing to Venus, which made the person who wore it the object of uni versal love, and which Juno once borrowed to deceive Jupiter.

The fair one's heart, &c.]

Aut ego sigæos repetam te conjuge portus,

Aut ego Tænariâ contegar exul humô. OVID.

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