Thou shalt not gain what I deny to yield,
Nor reap the harvest, tho' thou fpoil'ft the field.
Know, Solomon, thy poor extent of fway;
Contract thy brow, and Ifrael shall obey;

• But wilful Love thou muft with fmiles appeafe,
Approach his awful throne by juft degrees,

And if thou wouldst be happy, learn to please. • Not that thofe arts can here fuccessful prove,

• For I am deftin'd to another's love.

Beyond the cruel bounds of thy command,

• To my dear equal, in my native land,

My plighted vow I gave; I his receiv'd :

Each fwore with truth, with pleasure each believ'd;

• The mutual contract was to heaven convey'd ;

In equal fcales the bufy angels weigh'd

• It's folemn force, and clapp'd their wings, and fpread
The lafting roll, recording what we faid.

Now in my heart behold thy poniard ftain'd;
• Take the fad life which I have long disdain'd;
End, in a dying virgin's wretched fate,
< Thy ill-ftarr'd paffion, and my stedfast hate :
For long as blood informs thefe circling veins,
• Or fleeting breath it's latest pow'r retains,
Hear me to Egypt's vengeful gods declare,
Hate is my part; be thine, O king, despair.
Now ftrike!' she said, and open'd bare her breast.
Stand it in Judah's Chronicles confefs'd,
That David's fon, by impious passion mov'd,
Smote a fhe-flave, and murder'd what he lov'd !'
Afham'd, confus'd, I started from the bed,

And to my foul, yet uncollected, faid,

Into thyfelf, fond Solomon, return;

• Reflect again, and thou again fhalt mourn.'
When I thro' number'd years have pleasure fought,
And in vain hope the wanton phantom caught,

To

To mock my sense and mortify my pride,
'Tis in another's pow'r, and is deny'd.
Am I a king, great Heav'n! does life or death
Hang on the wrath or mercy of my breath,
While kneeling I my fervant's fmiles implore,
And one mad damfel dares difpute my pow'r?
To ravifli her!-that thought was foon deprefs'd,
Which must debafe the monarch to the beast.
To fend her back!-O whither, and to whom?
To lands where Solomon must never come?
To that infulting rival's happy arms,

For whom, difdaining me, fhe keeps her charms?
Fantastick tyrant of the am'rous heart,

How hard thy yoke! how cruel is thy dart!
Those 'scape thy anger who refuse thy fway,
And thofe are punish'd most who moft obey.
See Judah's king revere thy greater pow'r ;
What canft thou covet, or how triumph more?
Why then, O Love, with an obdurate ear,
Does this proud nymph reject a monarch's pray'r?
Why to some simple shepherd does she run,
From the fond arms of David's fav'rite fon?
Why flies she from the glories of a court,
Where wealth and pleasure may thy reign support;
To fome poor cottage on the mountain's brow,
Now bleak with winds, and cover'd now with fnow,
Where pinching want muft curb her warm defires,
And houshold cares fupprefs thy genial fires?

Too aptly the afflicted heathens prove
The force, while they erect the fhrines of Love.
His mystick form the artizans of Greece
In wounded stone or molten gold exprefs;
And Cyprus to his godhead pays her vow.
Fast in his hand the idol holds his bow;
A quiver by his fide sustains his store

Of pointed darts, fad emblems of his pow'r!

A pair of wings he has, which he extends

Now to be gone; which now again he bends,
Prone to return, as beft may serve his wanton ends.
Entirely thus I find the fiend pourtray'd,
Since first, alas! I faw the beauteous maid.
I felt him ftrike, and now I fee him fly:
Curs'd dæmon! O for ever broken lie
Those fatal shafts by which I inward bleed!
O can my wishes yet o'ertake thy speed!

Tir'd may'st thou pant, and hang thy flagging wing,
Except thou turn'ft thy courfe, refolv'd to bring
The damfel back, and fave the love-fick king.
My foul thus ftruggling in the fatal net,
Unable to enjoy or to forget,

I reafon'd much, alas! but more I lov'd,
Sent and recall'd, ordain'd and difapprov'd;
Till, hopeless, plung'd in an abyfs of grief,
I from neceffity receiv'd relief;

Time gently aided to affuage my pain,

And Wifdom took once more the flacken'd rein.
But O how short my interval of woe!
Our griefs how fwift, our remedies how flow!
Another nymph, (for fo did Heav'n ordain,
To change the manner but renew the pain;)
Another nymph, amongst the many fair
That made my fofter hours their folemn care,
Before the reft affected still to stand,
And watch'd my eye, preventing my command.
Abra-fhe fo was call'd-did foonest hafte

To grace my prefence-Abra went the last:
Abra was ready ere I call'd her name;
And tho' I call'd another, Abra came.

Her equals first observ'd her growing zeal,
And laughing glofs'd, that Abra ferv'd fo well.
To me her actions did unheeded die,

Or were remark'd but with a common eye;

}

}

Till more appriz'd of what the rumour said,
More I obferv'd peculiar in the maid.

The fun declin'd had shot his western ray,
When, tir'd with business of the folemn day,
I purpos'd to unbend the ev'ning hours,
And banquet private in the women's bow'rs.
I call'd before I fat to wash my hands,
For fo the precept of the law commands;
Love had ordain'd that it was Abra's turn
To mix the fweets and minifter the urn.

With awful homage and fubmiffive dread
The maid approach'd, on my declining head
To pour the oils: fhe trembled as she pour'd;
With an 'unguarded look fhe now devour'd
My nearer face; and now recall'd her eye,
And heav'd, and ftrove to hide a fudden figh.

' And whence,' faid I, canst thou have dread or pain? • What can thy imag'ry of forrow mean?

• Secluded from the world and all it's care,

• Haft thou to grieve or joy, to hope or fear?
'For fure,' I added, fure thy little heart
'Ne'er felt Love's anger, or receiv'd his dart?'
Abafh'd the blufh'd, and with disorder spoke;
Her rifing fhame adorn'd the words it broke.

If the great mafter will defcend to hear
The humble series of his handmaid's care,
O! while fhe tells it let him not put on
'The look that awes the nations from the throne :
'O! let not death fevere in glory lie

• In the king's frown and terror of his eye.

Mine to obey, thy part is to ordain;
And tho' to mention be to fuffer pain,
If the king fmiles whilft I my woe recite,
'If weeping I find favour in his fight,
Flow faft my tears, full rifing his delight.

O witness earth beneath, and heav'n above, For can I hide it! I am fick of love:

If madness may the name of paffion bear, • Or love be call'd what is indeed despair.

Thou fov'reign Pow'r, whofe fecret will controuls

The inward bent and motion of our fouls!

Why haft thou plac'd fuch infinite degrees

• Between the cause and cure of my disease?
The mighty object of that raging fire
In which unpity'd Abra muft expire,

Had he been born fome fimple fhepherd's heir,
The lowing herd or fleecy sheep his care,
At morn with him I o'er the hills had run,
• Scornful of winter's froft and fummer's fun,
• Still asking where he made his flock to reft at noon.
For him at night, the dear expected gueft,

• I had with hafty joy prepar'd the feast,

• And from the cottage, o'er the distant plain,
< Sent forth my longing eye to meet the swain,
Wav'ring, impatient, tofs'd by Hope and Fear,
Till he and Joy together fhould appear,
And the lov'd dog declare his master near.
On my declining neck and open breast
I fhould have lull'd the lovely youth to reft,
And from beneath his head at dawning day,
• With fofteft care, have ftol'n my arm away,
To rife and from the fold release the sheep,
Fond of his flock, indulgent to his fleep.

Or if kind Heav'n, propitious to my flame,
(For fure from Heav'n the faithful ardour came!)
• Had blefs'd my life, and deck'd my natal hour,
With height of title and extent of pow'r,
• Without a crime my paffion had aspir'd,
Found the lov'd prince, and told what I defir'd.
• Then I had come, preventing Sheba's queen,
To fee the comelieft of the fons of men;

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• To