Pleas'd ev'n to hear her fex's virtues fhewn,
And blind to none's perfections but her own:
Whilft, humble fair! of thefe too few fhe knows,
Yet owns too many for the world's repofe:
From wit's wild petulance ferenely free,
Yet bleft in all that nature can decree,
Not like a fire, which, whilft it burns, alarms;
A modest flame, that gently fhines and warms:
Whofe mind, in every light, can charms difplay,
With wisdom ferious, and with humour gay;
Juft as her eyes in each bright posture warm,
And fiercely strike, or languishingly charm:
Such are your honours-mention'd to your coft,
Those leaft can hear them, who deferve them moft:
Yet ah! forgive-the lefs inventive Mufe,
If e'er she sing, a copious theme must chufe.
Written in a FLOWER BOOK of my own Colouring, defigned for Lady PLIMOUTH. 1753-4.
"Debitæ nymphis opifex coronæ."
BRING, Floara, bring thy treafures here,
The pride of all the blooming year;
And let me, thence, a garland frame,
To crown this fair, this peerless dame !
But ah! fince envious winter lours,
And Hewell meads refign their flowers,
Let art and friendship joint essay
Diffuse their flowerets, in her way.
Not nature can herfelf prepare
A worthy wreath for Lefba's hair,
Whole temper, like her forehead, smooth,
Whofe thoughts and accents form'd to soothe,
Whofe pleating mien, and make refin'd,
Whofe artless breaft, and polish'd mind,
From all the nymphs of plain or grove,
Deferv'd and won my Plymouth's love.
WAS in a cool Aonian glade,
The wanton Cupid, fpent with toil,
Had fought refreshment from the fhade;
And stretch'd him on the moffy soil.
A vagrant Mufe drew nigh, and found
The fubtle traitor fast asleep;
And is it thine to fnore profound,
She faid, yet leave the world to weep ?
But hufh from this aufpicious hour,
The world, I ween, may rest in peace;
And, robb'd of darts, and itript of power,
Thy peevish petulance decreafe.
Sleep on, poor child! whilst I withdraw,
And this thy vile artillery hide-
When the Caftalian fount fhe saw,
And plung'd his arrows in the tide.
That magic fount-ill-judging maid!
Shall cause you foon to curfe the day
You dar'd the fhafts of love invade;
And gave his arms redoubled sway.
For in a stream fo wonderous clear,
When angry Cupid fearches round,
Will not the radiant points appear?
Will not the furtive spoils be found?
Too foon they were; and every dart,
Dipt in the Mufe's myftic fpring,
Acquir'd new force to wound the heart;
And taught at once to love and fing.
Then farewel, ye Pierian quire;
For who will now your altars throng? From love we learn to fwell the lyre; And echo asks no fweeter fong.
"Urit fpes animi credula mutui."
TWAS not by beauty's aid alone,
That love ufurp'd his airy throne,
His boafted power difplay'd:
'Tis kindness that fecures his aim,
'Tis hope that feeds the kindling flame,
Which beauty first convey'd.
In Clara's eyes, the lightnings view;
Her lips with all the rofe's hue
Have all its fweets combin'd;
Yet vain the blush, and faint the fire,
Till lips at once, and eyes confpire
To prove the charmer kind-
Though wit might gild the tempting fnare,
With fofteft accent, fweeteft air,
By envy's felf admir'd;
If Lefbia's wit betray'd her fcorn,
In vain might every Grace adorn
What every Muse infpir'd.
Thus airy Strephon tun'd his lyre-
He fcorn'd the pangs of wild defire,
Which love-fick fwains endure:
Refolv'd to brave the keenest dart;
Since frowns could never wound his heart;
And fmiles-must ever cure.
But ah! how false these maxims prove,
How frail fecurity from love,
Experience hourly shows!
Love can imagin'd fmiles fupply,
On every charming lip and eye
Eternal fweets bestows.
In vain we trust the fair-one's eyes;
In vain the fage explores the skies,
To learn from ftars his fate :
Till, led by fancy wide aftray,
He finds no planet mark his way;
Convinc'd and wife-too late.
As partial to their words we prove ;
Then boldly join the lifts of love,
With towering hopes supply'd:
See heroes, taught by doubtful shrines,
Mistook their deity's designs ;
Then took the field-and dy'd.
"Optima quæque dies miferis mortalibus ævi
"Prima fugit”
A Tear bedews
To think yon playful kid must die ; From crystal spring, and flowery mead, Muft, in his prime of life, recede!
Erewhile, in fportive circles round
She faw him wheel, and frisk, and bound;
From rock to rock pursue his way,
And, on the fearful margin, play.
Pleas'd on his various freaks to dwell,
She faw him climb my rustic cell;
Thence eye my lawns with verdure bright,
And feem all ravish'd at the fight.
She tells, with what delight he stood,
To trace his features in the flood:
Then skip'd aloof with quaint amaze;
And then drew near again to gaze.
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