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Blest with a genius strong, 'but unconfin'd, Each painful stroke disgusts the lively mind;
A spritely wit, with sober judgment join'd, For art is lost, when overmuch refin'd.
A love of learning, and a patient mind;

So uice reformers their own faith betray,
A vig'rous fancy, such as youth requires, And scbool-divines distinguish sense away.
And health, and ease, and undisturb’d desires. To err is mortal, do whate'er we can,
Who spares no pains his own defects to know, Some faulty trifles will confess the man.
Who not forgives, but ev'n admires a foe; Dim spots suffuse the lamp that gilds the sky,
By manners sway'd, which stealing on the heart, If nicely tracd through Galileo's eye.
Charm more through ease, and happiness, than Wisest are they, who each mad whim repress,
art.

And shur. gross errours, by committing less. Such Titian was, by nature form'd to please,

Still let due decencies preserve your fame, Blest in his fortunes, born to live at ease : Nor must the pencil speak the master's shame. Who felt the poet's, or the painter's fire,

Each nobler soul in ev'ry age was giv'n Now dipp'd the pencil, and now tun'd the lyre : To bless mankind, for arts descend from Hear'n. Of gentlest manners in a conrt refin'd,

Gods! shall we then their pious use profane, A friend to all, belor'd of all mankind;

'T" oblige the young, the noble, or the rain! The Muse's glory, as a monarch's care, ? Whoever meditates some great design, Dear to the gay, the witty, and the fair! Where strength and nature dawn at ev'ry line,

But ah! how long will nature ask to give Where art and fancy full perfection give, A soul like his, and bid a wonder live?

And each bold figure glows, and seems to live: Rarely a Titian, or a Pope appears,

Where lights and shades in sweet disunion play, The forming glory of a thousand years!

Rise by degrees, or by degrees decay; A proper taste we all derive from Heav'n, Far let him shun the busy noise of life, Wou'd all but bless, and manage what is giv'n. Untouch'd by cares, uncumber'd with a wife. Some secret impulse moves in ev'ry heart, Bear him, ye Muses ! to sequester'd woods, And nature's pleas'd with gentle strokes of art; To bow'ry grottoes, and to silver floods! (reign, Most souls, 'tis true, this blessing faintly charms; I Where Peace, and Priendship hold their gentle A distant fame, that rather shines, than warms: And Love unarm'd sits smiling on the plain. Like rays, through wintry streams reflected, | Where Nature's beauties variously unite, falls

And in a landscape open on the sight. Its dubions light, in glimm'ring intervals. Where Contemplation lifts her silent eye,

Like Maro first with treinbling hand design And lost in vision travels o'er the sky. , Some humble work, and study line by line: Soft as bis ease the whisp'ring Zephyrs blow, A Roman urn, a grove encircled bow'r,

Calm as his thoughts the gentle waters flow: Thé blushing cherry, or the bending flow'r. Hush'd are his cares, extinct arè Cupid's fires, Painful, and slow to noble arts we rise,

And restless hopes, and impotent desires. And long long labours wait the glorious prize; But Nature s first must be your darling care; Yet hy degrees your steadier hand shall give Unerring Nature, without labour fair. A bolder grace, and bid each object live.

Art from this source derives her true designs, So in the depths of some sequester'd vale, And sober judgment cautiously refines. The weary peasant's heart begins to fail :

No look, no posture must mishap'd appear:
Slowly he mounts the huge high cliff with pain, Bold be the work, but boldly regular,
And prays in thought he might return again; When mercy pleads, let softness melt the eyes;

Till opening all at once beneath his eyes, When anger storms, the swelling muscles rise.
The verdant trees, and glittering turrets rise: A soft emotion breathes in simple love,
He springs, he triumphs, and like lightning flies. The heart just seeras to beat, the eye to move.
Evin Raphael's self from rude essays began, Gently, ah! gently, Languor seems to die,
And shadow'd with a coal his shapeless man. Now drops a tear, and now steals out a sigh.
Time was, when Pope for rhymes would knit his Let awful Jove his lifted thunders wield;
brow,

Place azure Neptune in the watry field. And write as tasteless lines--as I do now. Round smiling Venus draw the faithless boy,

'Tis hard a sprightly fancy to command, Surmise, vain hopes, and short-enduring joy. And give a respite to the lab'ring hand;

But should you dress a nymphi in monstrous sub, Hard as our eager passions to restrain,

Or saintly nun profane witb modish snuff: When priests, and self-denial plead in vain : Each fool will cry, O horridly amiss ! When pleasures tempt, and inclinations draw, The painters mad, mend that, and alter this. When vice is nature, and our will the law.

From Heay'n descending, beauteous Nature As vain we strive each trivial fault to hide,

cane, That shows but little judgment, and more pride, | One clear perfection, one eternal fame, Like some nice prude, offensive to the sight,

accersita, & simplicihus ab ipsâ veritate pro• Exactness gives at best a cold delight; 3 .

fectis similia. Quintil. Lib. 8. Cap. 3. in Proem. 1 Sit vir talis, qualis verè sapiens appellari • Aptissima sunt io hoc nemora, sylræque; possit, nec moribus modo perfectus, sed etiam quòd illa cæli libertas, locorumque; ananitas scientià, & omni facultate dicendi, qualis for- sublimen aninium, & beatiorem spiritum parent. tasse adhuc nemo fuerit. Quintilian.

Quintilian. 2 Titian was created count Palatine by Charles S Videantur omnia ex Naturâ rerum homi. V. and most intimately acquaioted with Ariosto, numque fluere-Hoc opus, hic labor est; sine Aretine, &c.

quo, cætera nuda, jejunga, infirma, ingraldo s Odiosa cara est-Optima enim sunt minimè Quintil. Lib. 6. cap. 2.

Whose lovely lights on ev'ry object fall Watchful, and silent move the duteous bands, By due degrees, yet still distinguish all.

One look excites them, and one breath comYet as the best of mortals are sometimes

mands, Not quite exempt from folly or from crimes;

Hail bappy Painting! to confirm thy sway, There are, who think that nature is not free

Ocean, and air their various tributes pay. From some few symptoms of deformity.

The purple insect 9 spreads her wings to thee, Hence springs a doubt, if painters may be Wafts o'er the breeze, or glitters on the tree. To err, who copy nature in a fault, (thought

Earth's winding veins unnumber'd treasures hold, Led by some servile rule, whose pow'r prevails

And the warm champian ripens into gold, On imitation, when th' example fails.

A clearer blue the lazuli bestows, Poets, and painters here employ your skill;

Here umber deepeus, there vermillion glows. Be this the doctrine of your good and ill,

For thee, her tender greens, and flourets rise, Enough to pose the critics of a nation,

Whose colours change in ever-mingling dyes; Nice as the rules of Puritan-salvation.

Ev’n those fair groves (for Eden first design'd) Yet if the seeds of art we nicely trace ; Weep in soft fragrance through their balmy rind: 'There dawns a heav'nly, all-inspiring grace,

Transparent tears! that glitter as they run. No tongue expresses it, no rule contains; Warm'd with the blushes of the rising Sun. (The glorious cause unseen) th' effect remains : Here cease my song-a gentler theme in. Fram'd in the brain, it flows with easy art,

spires Steals on the sense, and wins the yielding heart,

Each tender thought, and wakes the lover's fires. A pleasing vigour mixt with boldness charms,

Once more your aid celestial Muses bring ; And happiness completes what passion warms.

Sacred the lays ! por to the deaf we sing. Nor is it thought a trifle, to express

In ancient Greece lo there liv'd, unknown to The various shapes, and foldings of the dress 7, | A nymph, and Mimicina was her name. [fame, With graceful ease the pencil to command, Smit by a neighb'ring youth betimes she fell And copy nature with a hasty hand.

| Victim to love, and bade the world farewell. Through the clear robe the swelling muscles rise, | Thoughtful and dull she pin’d her bloom away Or heaving breasts, that decently surprise ; i In lonely groves, nor saw the cheerful day. As some coy virgin with dejected mien [seen,

| This might be borne-but lo! her lovely swain Conceals her charms, yet hopes they may be

Must part, ah, never to return again ! Be ev'ry person's proper habit known 8,

One mutual kiss must mutual passion sever, Peculiar to his age, or sex alone.

One look divide 'em, and divide for ever! In flowing robes the monarch sweeps along,

See, now she lies abandon'd to despair, Large are the foldings, natural, and strong:

And to rude winds unbinds her flowing hair: Wide ample lights in spreading glories play,

Beauteous neglect! when melting to her woes, And bere contrasted, deeper shades decay. A Sylvan maid from her dark grotto rose: The virgin-pow'rs who haunt the silver floods, (Long had she view'd the solitary fair, And hoary hills, and consecrated woods,

Her bleeding bosom heav'd with equal care) Soft strokes, and graceful negligence demand, A heav'nly picture in her hand she bore, The nice resultance of an easy hand;

She smil'd, she gave it, and was seen no more Loose to the winds their airy garments fly

Pleas'd Mimicina, speechless with surprise, Like filmy dews, too tender for the eye.

Ey'd the fair form, and lightning of the eyes: But e'er these charms are to perfection wrought, She knew--and sighing gave a tender kiss; Adapted manuals must be nicely sought.

Her noble passion was content with this:
Gay vivid colours must the draught inspire, No more his absence, or her woes deplor'd,
Now melt with sweetness and now burn with fire. And as the living, she the dead ador'd.
A northern sky must aid the steady sight,

Thus Painting rose, to nourish soft desires,
Else the shades alter with the transient light. And gentle hopes, and friendship's purer fires :
Methinks the loaded table stands display'd, Thus still the lover must his nymph adore,
Jach nicer vase “in mystic order laid.” | And sigh to charms, that ought to charm no
Here ocean's mistress heaps around her shells

more, Beauteous, and recent from the sea-green cells; Thus when these eyes, with kind illusions blest, The taper pencils here are rang'd apart, Survey each grace Parthenia once possest: There chalk, lead, vials, and loose schemes of Her winning sweetness, and attractive ease, art.

And gentle smiles that never fail'd to please; So when bold Churchill with a gen'ral's care Heav'ns! how my fancy kindles at the view, Eyes his brave Britons crowding to the war; Aud my fond heart relents, and bleeds anew !

Fair faithless virgin! with constraint unkind, 6 Tradi omnia, que ars efficit, non possunt. Misled by duty, and through custom blind :

Quintil. Lib. 8. cap. 10. Perhaps ev'n now, from pride and int'rest free, Vide etiam quæ sequuntur de Pictore.

Thou shar'st each pang of all I felt for thee; 7 Non refert quid facias, sed quo loco. Nam Ah, no-my pray’rs, my tears, my vows resign, ornatus omnis non tam sua, quam rei cui ad Alas, 'tis now a crime to call me thine, hibetur, conditione constat.

To act the tender, or the friendly part; Quintil. Lib. 11. cap. 1. No-hate, forget me, tear me from my heart, • Reddere personæ scit convenientia cuique; 9 The cochineel. Respicere exemplar vitæ morumque, jubebo 10 This story, with several others, is mentionDoctum imitatorem.

ed by most ancient writers. I have chosen it as Horat, de Art. Poet.

the most poetical, VOL. XYS.

Yet still thy smiles in breathing paint inspire, Excessive beauty, like a flash of light, Still thy kind glances set my soul on fire. Seems more to weaken, than to please the sight. Thither each hour I lift my thoughtful eye, In one gay thought luxuriant (vid writ, Now drop a tear, now softly breathe a sight; And Voiture tires us, but with too much wit. Sacred 'till death my gentlest vows shall be, Some all their value for grotesque express, And the last gasp of life be breath'd for thee ! Beauty they prize, but beauty in excess :

You too, O Sculpture, shall exalt my lays, Where each gay figure seems to glare apart, Pictura's sister-candidate for praise !

Without due grace, proportion, shades, or arte Soft Raphael's air divine, Antonio "' shows; (The sad remains of Goths in ancient times, And all Le Brun in mimic Picart' glows. And rev'rend dulness, and religious rhymes) Hither ye nations, now direct your eyes,

So youthful poets ring their music round Rise crown'd with lustre, gentle Albion rise! On one eternal harmony of sound. Now thy soft Allar, now thy Smith appears, “ The lines are gay,” and whosoe'er pretends A faultless pattern to succeeding years;

To search for more, mistakes the writer's ends. There sacred domes " in length'ning vistas Colours, like words, with equal care are sought, charm,

These please the sight, and those express the And British beauties here for ever warm.

thought, Most painters, of less judgment than caprice, But most of all, the landscape seems to please Are like old maidens infamously nice:

With calm repose, and rural images. It matters nought if rules be false or true, See, in due lights th' obedient objects stand, all shou'd be modish, whimsical and new; As happy ease exalts the master's hand. Fond of each change, the present still they praise, See, absent rocks hang trembling in the sky, So women love and actors purchase plays. See, distant mountains vanish from the eye; As if self-love, or popular offence,

| A darker verdure stains the dusky woods ; Receiv'd a sanction to mislead our sense; | Floats the green shadow in the silver floods; Or party-notions, vapours, saith, and zeal Fair visionary worlds surprise the view, Were all, at proper times, infallible.

And fancy forms the golden age a-new, True wit, and true religion are but one,

True just designs will merit honour still; Tho' some pervert 'em, and ev'n most have none. Who begins well, can scarcely finish ill. Who thinks what others never thought before, Unerring truth must guide your band aright, Acts but just that his sons will act no more. Art without this is violence to sight. Yet on a time, when vig'rous thoughts demand, The first due postures of each figure trace Indulge a warmth, and prompt the daring hand : In swelling ont-lines with an easy grace. On purpose deviate from the laws of art,

But the prime person mostly will demand And boldly dare to captivate the heart;

Th' unweary'd touches of thy patient hand : Breasts warm'd to rapture shall applaud your fire, There thought, and boldness, strength, and art May disapprove you, but shall still admire. "

conspire, The Grecian artist at one dash supply'd

The critic's judgment, and the painter's fire ; Wbat patient touches, and slow art deny'd. I It lives, it moves, it swells to meet the eve: So when pale Florio in the gloomy grove

Behind, the mingling groupes in softer shadows Sits sadly musing on the plagues of love,

die. When hopes and fears distract his tim'rous mind, Never with self-design your merits raise, And fancy only makes the uymph unkind: Nor let your tongue be echo to your praise. Desp'rate at last he rushes from the shade, To wiser heads commit such points as these, By force and warm address to win the maid: A modest blush will tell how much they please. His brisk attack the melting nymph receives

In days of yore, a prating lad, they say, With equal warmth, he presses, she forgives; Met glorious Reubens journeying on the way: One moment crowns wbole tedious years of pain, Sneering, and arch he shakes his empty head, And endless griefs, and health consum'd in vain. (For half-learn'd boys will talk a Solon dead)

Of ev'ry beauty that conspires to charm "Your servant, good sir Paul,why,what, the devil, Man's nicer judgmeut, and bis genius warm, The world to you is more than fairly civil; To just invention be the glory giv'n,

No life, no gusto in your pieces shine, A particle of light deriv'd from Heav'n.

Without decorum, as without design"Upnumber'd rules t' improve the gift are shown Sedate to this the Heav'n-born artist smil'd, By ev'ry critic, to procure it, none.

“ Northine, nor mine to speak our praise, my Some colours often to the rest impart

child! New graces, more thro' happiness, than art. Each shall expose his best to curious eyes, This, nicely study'd, will your fame advance, And let th' impartial world adjust the prize." The greatest beauties seldom come by chance. Let the soft colours sweeten and unite Some gaze at ornament alone, and then

To one just form, as all were shade, or light. So value paint, as women value men. . Nothing so frequent charms th' admiring eyes It matters nought to talk of truth, or grace, As well tim'd fancy, and a sweet surprise. Religion, genius, customs, time, and place. So when the Grecian 13 labour'd to disclose So judge the vain, and young; nor envy we: His nicest art, a mimic lark arose: They cannot think indeed-but they may see. | The fellow-birds in circles round it play'd,

| Knew their own kind, and warbled to a shade. 11 Two engravers, famous for their prints copied from Raphael and Le Brun.

18 See Pliny's Natural History, lib. 35. cape 12 Alluding to Hollar's Etchings in the Mo-1

10. Dasticon.

So Vandervaart in later times excell'd,

| Yet ah, how soon the casual bliss decays, And nature liv'd in what our eyes beheld.

How great the pains, how transient is the praise! He too can oft (in optics deeply read)

Language, frail How'r, is in a moment lost, A noon-day darkness o'er his chamber spread: '4| (That only pruduct human wit can boast) The transient objects sudden as they pass Now gay in youth, its early honours rise, O'er the small convex of the visual glass, Now hated, curst, it fades away, and dies. Transferr'd from thence by magic's pow'rful call, Yet verse first rose to soften human kind. Shine in quick glories on the gloomy wall; To mend their manners, and exalt their mind. Groves, mountains, rivers, men surprise the See, savage beasts stand list’ning to the lay, sight,

swavy light. And men more furious, and more wild than theys Trembles the dancing world, and swims the | Ev'n shapeless trees a second birth receive, Each varying figure in due place dispose 's, Rocks move to form, and statues seem to live. These boldly heighten, touch but faintly those. Immortal Homer felt the sacred rage, Contigorous objects place with judgment nigh, And pious Orpheus taught a barb'rous age; Each due proportion swelling on the eye.

Succeeding painters thence deriv'd their light, Remoter views insensibly decay,

And durst no more than those vouchsaf'd to write. And lights, and shadows sweetly drop away.

At last t'adorn the gentler arts, appears In bluish white the farthest mounts arise,

Ilustrious Zeuxis from a length of years. Steal from the eye, and melt into the skies.

Parrhasius' hand with soft’oing strokes exprest Hence sacred domes in length'ning ailes extend, Į The nervous motions, and the folded vest: Round columns swell, and rising arches bend : Pregnant of life his rounded figures rise, Obliquer views in side-long vistas glance,

With strong relievo swelling on the eyes. And bending groves in fancy seem to dance. Evenor bold, with fair Apelles came,

Two equal lights descending from the sky, And happy Nicias crown'd with deathless fame. O'erpow'r each other, and confuse the eye. At length from Greece, of impious arms afraid,

The greatest pleasures tire the most, and such Painting withdrew, and sought th’ Italian shade; Still end in vices if enjoy'd too much.

What tiine each science met its due regard, Tho' painters often to the shades retire,

And patrons took a pleasure to reward. Yet too long ease but serves to quench the fire. But ah, how soon must glorious times decay, Wing'd with new praise, methinks they boldly One transient joy, just kuown, and snatch'd O'er airy Alps, and seem to touch the sky. [Ay

away! Still true to fame. here well-wrought busts de. By the same foes, which Painting shunn'd before, High turrets nod, and arches sink away. [cay, Ev'n here she bleeds, and arts expire once more. Ev'n the bare walls, whose breathing figures Ease, lust, and pleasures shake a feeble state, glow'd

Gothic invasions, and domestic hate; (sume, With each warın stroke that living art bestow'd, Time's slow decays, what these ev'n spare, conOr slow decay, or hostile time invades,

And Rome lies bury'd in the depths of Rome ! And all in silence the fair fresco fades.

Long slumber'd Painting in a stupid trance Each image yet in fancy'd thoughts we view, Of heavy zeal, and monkish ignorance : And strong idea forms the scene a-new:

(When faith itself for mere dispute was giv'n, Delusive, she, Paulo's free stroke supplies, seves. Subtile was wise, and wranglers went to Heav'n.) Revives the face, and points th' enlight'ning 'Till glorious Cimabue 16 restor'd her crown,

'Tis thought each science, but in part, can | And dipp'd the pencil, studious of renown. A length of toils for human life at most: [boast Masaccio taught the finish'd piece to live, (So vast is art!) if this remark prove true, And added ev'ry grace of perspective. 'Tis dang'rous sure to think at once of two, Exact correctness Titian's hand bestow'd, And hard to judge if greater praise there be And Vinci's stroke with living labour glow'd. To please in painting, or in poetry;

Next Julio rose, who ev'ry language knew, Yet Painting lives less injur'd, or confin'd,

Liv'd o'er each age, and look'd all nature True to th' idea of the master's mind :

through. In ev'ry nation are her beauties known,

In happy Paulo strength and art conspire, In ev'ry age the language is her own :

The Graces please us, and the Muses fire, Nor time, nor change diminish from her fame; Each nobler secret others boast alone, Her charms are universal, and the same. By curious toil Caracci made his own : O, could such blessings wait the poet's lays, Raphael's nice judgment, Angelo's design, New beauties still, and still eternal praise ! Correggio's warmth, and Gu do's pleasiug line. Ev'n though the Muses ev'ry strain inspire, Tbrice g'orions times, when ev'ry science charms, Exalt his voice, and animate his lyre :

When rapture lifts us, and religion warms ! Ev'n tho' their art each image shou'd combine Vocal to Heav'n the swelling organs blow, In one clear light, one harmony divine;

A shriller consort aids the notes below:

Above, around the pictur'd saints appear, 14. This practice is of no late invention. Bap And list'ning seraphs sinile and bend to hear. tista Porta, who flourished about the year 1500, Thence Painting, by some happy genius led, gives an ingenious account of it in his Nacural O'er the cold North in slow approaches spread. Magic, lib. 17. How useful this may be to Ev'n Britain's isie, that blush'd with hostile gore, young painters, is not my province to determine. Receiv'd her laws, unknown to yield before; is Singula quæque, locum tencant sortita decenter.

16 Giovanni Cimabue, born at Florence in the Hoc amat obscurum, vult hoc sub luce videri. year 1240. He was the person who revived paints

orat. I ing after its unfortunate extirpation.

Relenting now, her sayage heroes stand;

of celebration, when Cydippe was seized with And melt at ev'ry stroke from Reubens' hand. a violent fever. Acontius writes to her, he Still in his right the graceful Jervas sways,

reminds her of a former solemn cbligation, and Sacred to beauty, and the fair one's praise,

artfully insinuates that her distemper is inWhose breathing paint another life supplies,

flicted as a just punishment from Diana. And calls new wonders forth from Mordaunt's eyes.

| Once more, Cydippe, all thy fears remove, And Thornbill, gen'rous as his art, design'd | 'Tis now too late to dread a cheat in love. At once to profit, and to please mankind.

Those rosy lips, in accents half divine, Thy dome, O Paul's, which heav'nly views adorn, Breath'd the soft promise in the Delian shrine; Shall guide the hands of painters yet unborn; Dear awful oath! enough Cydippe swore, Each melting stroke shall foreign eyes engage, No human ties can bind a virgin more. . And shine unrival'd through a future age.

So may kind Hear'n attend a lover's pray'r, Hail happy artists! in eternal lays

Soften thy pains, and comfort my despair, The kindred-muses shall record your praise; See, the warm blush your modest cheeks inflame; Whose heav'nly aid inspir'd you first to rise, Yet is there cause for anger or for shame! And fix'd your fame immortal in the skies; Recal to mind those tender lines of love, There sure to last, 'till Nature's self expires, Deny you cannot-thor your heart disprove. Increasing still, and crown'd with clearer fires : Still must I waste in impotent desires, High-rais'd above the blasts of public breath, And only hope revive the fainting fires ? The voice of hatred, and the rage of death. Yet did'st thou promise to be ever mine

Ah, thus, for ever may my numbers shine, A conscious horroar seem'd to shake the shrine, Bold as your thoughts, but easy as your line! The pow'r consenting bow'd ; a beam of light Then might the Muse to distant ages live, Flash'd from the skies, and made the temple Contract new beauty, and new praise receive:

bright. Fresh strength, and light ev'n time itself bestow, Ah! then Cydippe, dry thy precious tears: Soften each line, and bid the thought to glow; The more my fraud, the more my love appears. (Pame's second life) whose lasting glory fears Lore ever-watchful, ev'p by nature charms; Nor change, nor envy, nor devouring years. Inflames the modest, and the wise disarms; Then should these strains to Pembroke's hands Fair yet dissembling, pleasing but to cheat be borne

With tender blandishment, and soft deceit, Whom native graces, gentle arts adorn,

Kind speaking motions, melancholy sighs, Honour unsbaken, piety resign'd,

Tears that delight, and eloquence of eyes. A love of learning, and a gen'rous mind.

Love first the treach'rous dear design inspir'd. Yet if by chance, enamour'd of his praise, My hopes exalted, and my genins fir'd: Some nobler bard shall rise in future days, Ah! sure I cannot-must not guilty prove; (When from his Wilton walls the strokes decay, Deceit itself is laudable in love! And all art's fair creation dies away:

Once more inspir'd such tender lines I send, Or solid statues, faithless to their trust,

See, my hand trembles lest my thoughts offend. lo silence sink, to mix with vulgar dust ;) Heroes in war inflam'd by beauty's charms, Ages to come shall Pembroke's fame adore, Tear the sad virgin from her parents arms; Dear to the Muse, 'till Homer be no more, I too, like these, feel the fierce flames of love,

Yet check my rage, and modestly reprove.

Ah,teach me, Heav'n, some language to persuade, ACONTIUS TO CYDIPPE.

Some other vows to bind the faithless maid;

O Love all-eloquent, you only know
FROM OVID.

To touch the soul with elegies of woe!
ARGUMENT.

If treach'ry fail, by force I urge my right,

Sheath'd in rough armour, formidably bright: In a religious assembly at the temple of Diana in So Paris snatch'd his Spartan bride away,

Delos, Acontius was much enamoured with A half denying, half consenting prey; Cydippe, a lady of remarkable wit and beau- I too resolve- whate'er the dangers be, ty. Besides this, her fortune and family For death is nothing when compar'd to thee. were much above his own : which made him Were you less fair, I then inight guiltless prove, solicitous how to discover his passion in a And moderate the fury of my love; successful manner. At last he procured a very But ah! those charms for ever must inspire : beautiful apple, upon which he wrote a dys Each look, each motion sets my soul on fire. tic to this purpose, “ I swear by chaste Diana Heav'n's with what pleasing ecstasies of pain I will for ever be thy wife." So soon as he Trembling I gaze, and watch thy glance in vain. had written it, he threw the apple directly at How can I praise those golden curls that deck the feet of Cydippe, who imagiuing nothing of Each glowing cheek, or wave around thy neck: the deceit, took it up, and having read the in- | Thy swelling arms, and forehead rising fair, scription, found herself obliged by a solemn Thy modest sweetness, and attractive air; path to marry Acontius. For in those times Adjoin to these a negligence of grace, all oaths which were made in the temple of A winning accent, and enchanting face. Diana were esteemed inviolable. Some time | Dear matchless charms! I cease to name the rest, afterwards, ber father, who knew notuing of Nor wonder thou that love inflames my breast. what hall happened, espoused her to another | Since all alike to Hymen's altars bend, loyer. The marriage was just upon the point Ah, bless at once the lover, and the friend,

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