Or shake the torch, the fparkling fury flies,
And flames that never burn'd afflict his eyes.
The mournful Myrrha bursts her rended womb,
And drowns his visage in a moift perfume.
While others, seeming mild, advise to wound
With humorous pains by fly derifion found.
That prickling bodkins teach the blood to flow,
From whence the roses first begin to glow;
Or in their flames, to finge the boy prepare,
That all fhould chufe by wanton Fancy where.
The lovely Venus, with a bleeding breast,
She too fecurely through the circle prest,
Forgot the parent, urg'd his hafty fate,
And fpurr'd the female rage beyond debate;
O'er all her scenes of frailty swiftly runs,

Abfolves herfelf, and makes the crime her fon's,
That clafp'd in chains with Mars fhe chanc'd to lie,
A noted fable of the laughing sky;

That, from her love's intemperate heat, began
Sicanian Eryx, born a favage man ;

The loofe Priapus, and the monster-wight,
In whom the fexes fhamefully unite.

Nor words fuffice the Goddess of the Fair,
She fnaps the rofy wreath that binds her hair;
Then on the God, who fear'd a fiercer woe,
Her hands, unpitying, dealt the frequent blow
From all his tender skin a purple dew
The dreadful fcourges of the chaplet drew,
From whence the rose, by Cupid ting'd before,
Now, doubly tinging, flames with luftre more.

Here

Here ends, their wrath, the parent seems severe,
The ftroke's unfit for little Love to bear;
To fave their foe the melting Beauties fly,
And, cruel Mother, fpare thy child, they cry.
To Love's account they plac'd their death of late,
And now transfer the fad account to Fate:

The Mother, pleas'd, beheld the storm afswage,
Thank'd the calm mourners, and difmifs'd her rage.
Thus Fancy, once in dusky shade exprefs'd,
With empty terrors work'd the time of reft.
Where wretched Love endur'd a world of woe,
For all a Winter's length of night below.
Then foar'd, as fleep diffolv'd, unchain'd away,
And through the Port of Ivory reach'd the day.
As, mindless of their rage, he flowly fails
On pinions cumber'd in the misty vales;
(Ah, fool to light!) the Nymphs no more obey,
Nor was this region ever his to fway:

Caft in a deepen'd ring they close the plain,
And feize the god, reluctant all in vain.

THE JUDGEMENT OF PARIS.

WHERE waving pines the brows of Ida fhade,

The fwain, young Paris, half fupinely laid,

Saw the loofe flocks through shrubs unnumber'd rove, And, piping, call'd them to the gladded grove.

'Twas there he met the meffage of the fkies, That he, the Judge of Beauty, deal the prize. The meffage known; one Love with anxious mind To make his mother guard the time affign'd,

Drew

Drew forth her proud white fwans, and trac'd the pair
That wheel her chariot in the purple air ::

A golden bow behind his shoulder bends,
A golden quiver at his fide depends;
Pointing to thefe he nods, with fearless state,
And bids her fafely meet the grand debate.
Another Love proceeds, with anxious care,
To make his ivory fleek the shining hair
Moves the loofe curls, and bids the forehead fhow,
In full expanfion, all its native fnow.

A third enclafps the many-colour'd cest,
And, rul'd by Fancy, fets the filver veft
When, to her fons, with intermingled fighs,
The Goddess of the rofy lips applies.

'Tis now, my darling boys, a time to fhow
The love you feel, the filial aids you owe:
Yet, would we think that any dar'd to strive
For charms, when Venus and her Love 's alive?
Or should the prize of Beauty be deny'd,
Has Beauty's Empress aught to boast beside ?
And, ting'd with poifon, pleafing while it harms,
My darts I trusted to your infant arms;

If, when your hands have arch'd the golden bow,
The World's great Ruler, bending, owns the blow,
Let no contending form invade my due,

Tall Juno's mien, nor Pallas eyes of blue.
But, grac'd with triumph, to the Paphian fhore
Your Venus bears the palms of conquest o'er ;
And joyful fee my hundred altars there,
With coftly gums perfume the wanton air.

2

While

While thus the Cupids hear the Cyprian Dame,
The groves refounded where a Goddess came.
The warlike Pallas march'd with mighty ftride,
Her fhield forgot, her helmet laid aside.

Her hair unbound, in curls and order flow'd,
And Peace, or fomething like, her visage shew'd;
So, with her eyes ferene, and hopeful hafte,
The long-stretch'd alleys of the wood she trac'd;
But, where the woods a fecond entrance found,
With fcepter'd pomp and golden glory crown'd,
The stately Juno ftalk'd, to reach the feat,
And hear the fentence in the last debate;
And long, feverely long, refent the grove;
In this, what boots it she's the wife of Jove?
Arm'd with a grace at length, fecure to win,
The lovely Venus, fmiling, enters in ;

All fweet and fhining, near the youth the drew,
Her rofy neck ambrofial odours threw ;
The facred fcents diffus'd among the leaves,
Ran down the woods, and fill'd their hoary caves;
The charms, fo amorous all, and each fo great,
The conquer'd Judge no longer keeps his feat;
Opprefs'd with light, he drops his weary'd eyes,
And fears he should be thought to doubt the prize.

ON

ON MRS. ARABELLA FERMOR

FR

LEAVING

LONDOΝ.

ROM town fair Arabella flies:
The beaux unpowder'd grieve;

The rivers play before her eyes;
The breezes, foftly breathing, rife;
The Spring begins to live.

Her lovers fwore, they must expire:
Yet quickly find their ease;
For, as he goes, their flames retire,
Love thrives before a nearer fire,
Efteem by diftant rays.

Yet foon the fair-one will return,
When Summer quits the plain :
Ye rivers, pour the weeping urn;
Ye breezes, fadly fighing, mourn ;
Ye lovers, burn again.

'Tis conftancy enough in love

That Nature's fairly fhewn :
To fearch for more, will fruitlefs prove;
Romances, and the turtle dove,

The virtue boaft alone.

A RID.