But top, prefumptuous Mufe, thy daring flight,
Nor hope, in thy weak lyrick lay,
The heavenly language to display,
Or bring the counfels of the gods to light.
THE Paphian ifle was once the bleft abode
Of beauty's goddess and her archer-god.
There blissful bowers and amorous fhades were feen, Fair cyprefs walks, and myrtles ever green. 'Twas there, furrounded by a hollow'd wood, Sacred to love, a fplendid temple ftood; Where altars were with coftly gums perfum'd, And lovers fighs arofe, and fmoke from hearts confum'd.
Till, thence remov'd, the queen of beauty flies
To Britain, fam'd for bright victorious eyes.
Here-fix'd, the chofe a fweeter feat for Love,
And Greenwich Park is now her Cyprian grove.
Nor fair Parnaffus with this hill can vie,
Which gently fwells into the wondering sky,
Commanding all that can transport our fight,
And varying with each view the fresh delight.
From hence my Muse prepares to wing her
And wanton, like the Thames, through smiling meads
would ftray,
Defcribe the groves beneath, the sylvan bowers,
The river's winding train, and great Augufta's towers.
But fee! a living prospect drawing near At once tranfports, and raifes awful fear! Love's favourite band, felected to maintain His choiceft triumphs, and fupport his reign. Mufe, pay thy homage here-Yet oh beware! And draw the glorious fcene with artful care, For foolish praife is fatire on the fair.
Behold where bright Urania does advance,
And lightens through the trees with every glance!
A careless pleasure in her air is feen ;
Diana fhines with fuch a graceful inien,
When in her darling woods she's feign'd to rove,
The chace purfuing, and avoiding love.
At flying deer the goddels boafts her aim,
But Cupid fhews the nymph a nobler game.
Th' unerring fhafts fo various fly around,
'Tis hard to fay which gives the deepest wound.
Or if with greater glory we fubmit,
Pierc'd by her eyes, her humour, or her wit.
See next her charming filter, young and gay,
In beauty's bloom like the sweet month of May!
The fportful nymph once in the neighbouring grove
Surpriz'd by chance the fleeping god of love
His head reclin'd upon a tuft of green,
And by him scatter'd lay his arrows bright and keen ;
She ty'd his wings, and fole his wanton darts,
Then, laughing, wak'd the tyrant lord of hearts;
He fmil'd, and faid-'Tis well, infulting fair!
Yet how you fport with fleeping Love beware!
My lofs of darts I quickly can supply,
Your looks fhall triumph for Love's deity:
And though you now my feeble power difdain,
You once perhaps may feel a lover's pain.
Though Helen's form, and Cleopatra's charms,
The boat of fame, once kindled dire alarms :
Thole dazzling lights the world no more muft view,
And scarce would think the bright defcription true,
Did not that ray of beauty, more divine,
In Mira's eyes by tranfmigration fhine.
Her fhape, her air, proportion, lovely face,
And matchlefs fkin content with rival grace;
And Venus' felf, proud of th' officious aid,
With all her charms adorns th' illuftrious maid.
But haik!-what more than mortal founds are
Be ftill, ye whispering winds, and moving trees! 65 A fecond Mira does all hearts furprize,
At once victorious with her voice and eyes.
Her alone can tendereft love infpire,
Her heavenly voice improves the young defire.
So western gales in fragrant gardens play
On buds produc'd by the fun's quickening ray,
And fpread them into life, and gently chide their
ftay.
We court that skill, by which we're fure to die,
The modeft fair would fain our fuit deny,
And fings unwillingly, with trembling fear,
As if concern'd our ruin is fo near;
So generous victors fofteft pity know,
And with reluctance ftrike the fatal blow.
Engaging Cynthia 's arm'd with every grace ; Her lovely mind fhines chearful through her face, A facred lamp in a fair crystal cafe.
Not Venus-ftar, the brightest of the sphere,
Smiles fo ferene, or cafts a light fo clear.
O happy brother of this wondrous fair!
The best of fifters well deferves thy care;
Her fighing lovers, who in crouds adore,
Would wish thy place, did they not wish for more.
What angels are, when we defire to know,
We form a thought by fuch as the below,
And thence conclude they're bright beyond compare,
Compos'd of all that's good, and all that's fair.
There yet remains unnam'd a dazzling throng
Of nymphs, who to these happy fhades belong.
O Venus! lovely queen of foft defires!
For ever dwell where fuch supply thy fires!
May Virtue ftill with Beauty share the sway,
And the glad world with willing zeal obey-!
'H' infpiring Mufes and the God of Love,
Which moft should grace the fair Molinda ftrove Love arm'd her with his bow and keenest darts,
'The Mufes more enrich'd her mind with arts.
Though Greece in fhining temples heretofore
Did Venus and Minerva's powers adore,
The ancients thought no fingle goddess fit,
To reign at once o'er Beauty and o'er Wit;
Each was a separate claim; till now we find
The different titles in Molinda join'd.
From hence, when at the court, the park, the play,
She gilds the evening, or improves the day,
All eyes regard her with tranfporting fire,
One sex with envy burns, and one with fierce defire :
But when, withdrawn from public flow and noise, 15
In filent works her fancy the employs,
A fmiling train of Arts around her stand,
And court improvement from her curious hand.
She, their bright patronefs, o'er all presides,
And with like skill the pen and needle guides;
By this we fee gay filken landskips wrought,
By that the landskip of a beauteous thought :
Whether her voice in tuneful airs the moves,
Or cuts diffembled flowers and paper groves,
Her voice tranfports the ear with foft delight,
Her flowers and groves furprize the ravish'd fight;
Which ev'n to Nature's wonders we prefer;
All but that wonder Nature form'd in her.
|