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A heart refign'd the conqueft of your eyes: Well might, alas! that threatned veffel fail, Which winds and lightning both at once affail. We were too bleft with these inchanting lays, 5 Which must be heav'nly when an Angel plays: But killing charms your lover's death contrive, Left heav'nly mufic should be heard alive. Orpheus could charm the trees, but thus a tree, Taught by your hand, can charm no less than he: A poet made the filent wood pursue,

This vocal wood had drawn the Poet too.

On a FAN of the Author's defign, in which was painted the story of CEPHALUS and PROCRIS, with the Motto, AURA VENI.


JOME, gentle Air! th' Æolian shepherd faid,
While Procris panted in the fecret shade;
Come, gentle Air, the fairer Delia cries,
While at her feet her fwain expiring lies.
Lo the glad gales o'er all her beauties stray,
Breathe on her lips, and in her bofom play!
In Delia's hand this toy is fatal found,

Nor could that fabled dart more furely wound:
Both gifts deftructive to the givers prove;
Alike both lovers fall by thofe they love.

Yet guiltless too this bright deftroyer lives,

At random wounds, nor knows the wounds the


She views the ftory with attentive eyes,

And pities Procris, while her lover dies.




AIN would my Mufe the flow'ry Treasures fing,


And humble glories of the youthful Spring;
Where opening Roses breathing sweets diffuse,
And foft Carnations fhow'r their balmy dews;
Where Lilies fmile in virgin robes of white, 5
The thin undress of fuperficial Light,
And vary'd Tulips fhow fo dazling gay,
Blushing in bright diverfities of day.
Each painted flouret in the lake below

Surveys its beauties, whence its beauties grow; 10
And pale Narciffus on the bank, in vain
Transformed, gazes on himself again.
Here aged trees Cathedral Walks compofe,
And mount the hill in venerable rows;

There the green Infants in their beds are laid, 15
The Garden's Hope, and its expected shade.
Here Orange-trees with blooms and pendants fhine,
And vernal honours to their autumn join ;


Exceed their promife in the ripen'd ftore,
Yet in the rifing bloffom promise more.
There in bright drops the cryftal Fountains play,
By Laurels fhielded from the piercing day:
Where Daphne, now a tree as once a maid,
Still from Apollo vindicates her shade,

Still turns her beauties from th' invading beam, 25
Nor feeks in vain for fuccour to the stream,
The stream at once preferves her virgin leaves,
At once a shelter from her boughs receives,
Where Summer's beauty midst of Winter stays,
And Winter's Coolness fpite of Summer's rays. 30



WHILE Celia's Tears make forrow bright, Proud grief fits fwelling in her eyes; The Sun, next thofe the faireft light,

Thus from the Ocean firft did rife:
And thus thro' Mifts we fee the Sun,
Which else we durft not gaze upon.

These filver drops, like morning dew,
Foretell the fervour of the day:

So from one cloud foft show'rs we view,
And blasting lightnings burst away.
The Stars that fall from Celia's eye,
Declare our Doom in drawing nigh.

The Baby in that funny Sphere

So like a Phaeton appears,



That Heav'n, the threaten'd World to spare, 45
Thought fit to drown him in her Tears :

Elfe might th' ambitious Nymph aspire,
To fet, like him, Heav'n too on fire.

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