III.

WALLE R.

Of a LADY finging to her LUTE.

FA

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AIR Charmer, ceafe, nor make your voice's prize A heart refign'd the conqueft of your eyes: Well might, alas! that threatned veffel fail, Which winds and lightning both at once affail. We were too bleft with these inchanting lays, Which must be heav'nly when an Angel plays: But killing charms your lover's death contrive, Left heav'nly music should be heard alive. Orpheus could charm the trees, but thus a tree, Taught by your hand, can charm no less than he: 10 A poet made the filent wood purfue,

This vocal wood had drawn the Poet too.

On a FAN of the Author's defign, in which was painted the ftory of CEPHALUS and PROCRIS, with the Motto, AURA VENI.

OME, gentle Air! th' Æolian shepherd faid, While Procris panted in the secret shade; Come, gentle Air, the fairer Delia crics, While at her feet her fwain expiring lies. Lo the glad gaies o'er all her beauties ftray, Breathe on her lips, and in her bosom play! In Delia's hand this toy is fatal found, Nor could that fabled dart more furely wound: Both gifts deftructive to the givers prove; Alike both lovers fall by those they love.

Yet guiltless too this bright destroyer lives,

At random wounds, nor knows the wound she gives: She views the story with attentive eyes,

And pities Procris, while her lover dies.

IV.

COWLEY.

The GARDEN.

FAIN would my Mufe the flow'ry Treasures fing,

And humble glories of the youthful Spring;
Where op'ning Rofes breathing sweets diffuse,
And foft Carnations fhow'r their balmy dews;
Where Lilies fmile in virgin robes of white,
The thin Undrefs of fuperficial Light,
And vary'd Tulips fhow fo dazzling gay,
Blushing in bright diverfities of day.

Each painted flowret in the lake below

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Surveys its beauties, whence its beauties grow;
And pale Narciffus on the bank, in vain
Transformed, gazes on himself again.
Here aged trees Cathedral Walks compose,
And mount the Hill in venerable rows:
There the green Infants in their beds are laid,
The Garden's Hope, and its expected shade.
Here Orange-trees with blooms and pendants shine,
And vernal honours to their autumn join;
Exceed their promise in the ripen'd store,
Yet in the rifing bloffom promise more.
There in bright drops the cryftal Fountains play,
By Laurels fhielded from the piercing day :

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Where Daphne, now a tree as once a maid,
Still from Apollo vindicates her fhade,
Still turns her beauties from th' invading beam,
Nor feeks in vain for fuccour to the Stream.
The stream at once preferves her virgin leaves,
At once a fhelter from her boughs receives,
Where Summer's beauty midft of Winter stays,
And Winter's Coolness fpite of Summer's rays.

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WEEPING.

WE

HILE Celia's Tears make forrow bright, Proud Grief fits fwelling in her eyes; The Sun, next those the fairest light,

Thus from the Ocean first did rife:
And thus thro' Mifts we see the fun,
Which else we durft not gaze upon.

Thefe filver drops, like morning dew,
Foretell the fervour of the day:
So from one Cloud foft fhow'rs we view,
And blafting lightnings burft away.
The Stars that fall from Celia's eye,
Declare our Doom in drawing nigh.

The Baby in that funny sphere

So like a Phaeton appears,

That Heav'n, the threaten'd World to fpare,
Thought fit to drown him in her tears:
Elfe might th' ambitious Nymph aspire,
To fet, like him, Heav'n too on fire.