Like her no Nymph can willing Ozyers bend
In basket works, which painted streaks commend
With Pallas in the Loomb fhe may contend.
But none, ah none, can animate the Lire,
And the mute strings with Vocal Soul inspire,
Whether the Learn'd Minerva be her Theam,
Or chafte Diana bathing in the Stream;
None can record their Heavenly praise so well
As Helen, in whose eyes ten thousand Cupids dwell.
O fair! O Graceful! yet with Maids inroll❜d,
But whom to morrow's Sun a Matron fhall behold:
Yet e're to morrow's Sun fhall fhow his head,
The dewy paths of meadows we will tread,
For Crowns and Chaplets to adorn thy head.
Where all fhall weep, and wish for thy return,
As bleating Lambs their absent Mother mourn.
Our Noblest Maids fhall to thy Name bequeath
The boughs of Lotos, form'd into a Wreath,
This Monument, thy Maiden beauties due,
High on a Plane tree shall be hung to view:
On the smooth rind the Passenger shall see
Thy Name ingray'd; and worship Helen's Tree:
Balm, from a Silver Box diftill'd around,
Shall all bedew the roots and scent the facred ground,
The Balm, 'tis true, can aged Plants prolong,
But Helen's Name will keep it ever young.
Hail Bride, hail Bridegroom, Son-in-Law to Jove!
With fruitful joys, Latona blefs your Love;
Let Venus furnish you with full defires,
Add vigour to your wills, and fuel to your fires:
Almighty Jove augment your wealthy ftore,
Give much to you, and to his Grandfons more.
From generous Loins a generous Race will fpring,
Each Girl, like her, a Queen; each Boy, like you, a
Now sleep if sleep you can; but while you reft, (King.
Sleep close, with folded arms, and breast to breaft.
Rife in the morn; but oh before you rife,
Forget not to perform your morning Sacrifice,
We will be with you e're the crowing Cock
Salutes the light, and ftruts before his feather'd Flock:
Hymen, oh Hymen, to thy Triumphs run,
And view the mighty spoils thou haft in Battle won.
Ith inaufpicious Love, a wretched Swain Purfu'd the fairest Nymph of all the Plain; Fairest indeed, but prouder far than fair,
She plung'd him hopeless in a deep despair:
Her heavenly Form too haughtily she priz❜d,
His Perfon hated, and his Gifts defpis'd,
Nor knew the force of Cupid's cruel darts,
Nor fear'd his awful pow'r on human hearts;
But either from her hopeless Lover fled,
Or with difdainful Glances fhot him dead.
No Kifs, no Look, to cheer the drooping Boy:
No word she spoke, fhe fcorn'd ev❜n to deny.
But as a hunted Panther cafts about
Her glaring eyes, and pricks her list'ning ears to scout; So fhe, to fhun his Toyls, her cares imploy'd,
And fiercely in her favage freedom joy'd.
Her mouth fhe writh'd, her forehead taught to frown, Her eyes to sparkle fires to Love unknown:
Her fallow Cheeks her envious Mind did show, And every feature fpoke aloud the curftness of a Yet cou'd not he his obvious Fate escape; (Shrew.
His Love still drest her in a pleasing shape: fullen frown, and bitter fcorn But fann'd the fuel that too fast did burn. Long time, unequal to his mighty pain, He ftrove to curb it, but he ftrove in vain : At laft his woes broke out, and begg'd relief With Tears, the dumb petitioners of grief. With Tears fo tender, as adorn'd his Love, And any heart, but only hers wou'd move: Trembling before her bolted doors he ftood; And there pour'd out th' unprofitable flood: Staring his eyes, and haggard was his look; Then kiffing first the threshold, thus he spoke. Ah Nymph, more cruel than of human Race, Thy Tygrefs Heart belies thy Angel Face: Too well thou show'ft thy Pedigree from Stone; Thy Grandame's was the firft by Pyrrha thrown: Unworthy thou to be fo long defir'd;
But fo my Love, and fo my
I beg not now (for 'tis in vain) to live;
But take this Gift, the last that I can give.
This friendly Cord fhall foon decide the strife,
Betwixt my ling'ring Love and loathfome Life;
This moment puts an end to all my pain;
I fhall no more defpair, nor thou disdain.
Farewell, ungrateful and unkind; I go,
Condemn'd by thee, to thofe fad fhades below.
I go th' extreameft remedy to prove,
To drink Oblivion, and to drench my
There happily to lofe my long defires:
But ah, what draught fo deep to quench my fires!
Farewell, ye never opening Gates, ye Stones
And Threshold guilty of my Midnight Moans:
What I have fuffer'd here ye know too well;
What I fhall do the Gods and I can tell.
The Rofe is fragrant, but it fades in time;
The Violet fweet, but quickly past the prime;
White Lillies hang their heads and foon decay;
And whiter Snow in minutes melts away:
Such is your blooming youth, and withering fo;
The time will come, it will, when you shall know
The rage of Love, your haughty heart shall burn
In Flames like mine, and meet a like return.
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