Canft thou Love's brightest lightning draw,
Which none e'er yet unwounded faw?
To what then wilt thou next aspire,
Unless to imitate Jove's fire ?
Which is a lefs adventurous pride,
Though 'twas for that Salmoneus dy'd.
That beauteous, that victorious fair,
Whose chains fo many lovers wear;
Who with a look can arts infuse,
Create a Painter, or a Mufe ;
Whom crouds with awful rapture view ;
She fits ferene, and finiles on you!
Your genius thus inspir'd will soar
To wondrous heights unknown before,
And to her beauty you will own
Your future skill and fix'd renown.
So when of old great Ammon's fon,
Adorn'd with fpoils in battle won,
In graceful picture chose to stand;
The work of fam'd Apelles' hand 3
"Exert thy fire, the monarch faid,
"Now be thy boldest strokes display'd,
"To let admiring nations fee
Their dreaded victor drawn by thee; "To others thou may'ft life impart, "But I'll immortalize thy art!"'
FATAL FRIENDSHIP,
A TRAGEDY.
AS when Camilla once, a warlike dame,
In bloody battles won immortal fame,
Forfook her female arts, and chose to bear
The ponderous fhield, and heave the massy spear,
Superior to her fex: fo fwift the flew
Around the field, and such vaft numbers flew,
That friends and foes, alike furpriz'd, behold
The brave Virago defperately bold,
And thought her Pallas in a human mold,
Such is our wonder, matchless maid! to see
The tragic laurel thus deserv'd by thee.
Still greater praife is yours; Camilla fhines
For ever bright in Virgil's facred lines,
Nor need you to another's bounty owe,
For what yourself can on yourself bestow;
So monarchs in full health are wont to rear,
At their own charge, their future sepulchre.
Who thy perfections fully would commend,
Muft think how others their vain hours mifpend, zo
In trifling vifits, pride, impertinence,
Drefs, dancing, and difcourfe devoid of fenfe ;
To twirl a fan, to please some foolish beau,
And fing an empty song, the most they know ;
In body weak, more impotent of mind.
Thus fome have represented woman-kind.
But you, your fex's champion, are come forth
To fight their quarrel, and affert their worth;
Our Salick law of wit you have destroy'd,
Establish'd female claim, and triumph'd o'er our pride.
While we took on, and with repining eyes
Behold you bearing off so rich a prize,
Spite of ill-nature, we are forc'd t' approve
·Such dazzling charms, and spite of envy love.
Nor is this all th' applaufe that is your due,
You stand the first of stage-reformers too ;
No vicious trains pollute your moral scene,
Chafte are your thoughts, and your expreffion clean;
Strains fuch as yours the stricteft teft will bear :
Sing boldly then, nor bufy cenfure fear,
Your virgin voice offends no virgin ear.
Proceed, in tragic numbers to disclofe
Strange turns of fate, and unexpected woes.
Reward, and punish! awfully dispense
Heaven's judgments, and declare a Providence; 45
Nor let the comic Muse your labours share,
Tis meanness, after this, the fock to wear :
Though that too merit praise, 'tis nobler toil
T'extort a tear, than to provoke a smile.
What hand, that can defign a history,
Would copy low-land boors at Snic-a-Snee?
Accept this tribute, madam, and excufe The hafty raptures of a stranger Muse.
IN Nature's golden age, when new-born day Array'd the fkies, and earth was green and gay; When God, with pleasure, all his works furvey'd, And virgin innocence before him play'd; In that illuftrious morn, that lovely spring, The Mufe, by Heaven inspir'd, began to fing. Defcending Angels, in harmonious lays, Taught the first happy pair their Maker's praise. Such was the facred art- -We now deplore The Mufe's lofs, fince Eden is no more. When Vice from hell rear'd up its hydra-head, Th' affrighted maid, with chafte Aftræa, filed, And fought protection in her native sky;
In vain the heathen Nine her abfence would fupply.
Yet to fome few, whofe dazzling virtues fhone 15
In ages paft, her heavenly charins were known.
Hence learn'd the bard, in lofty strains to tell
How patient Virtue triumph'd over hell;
And hence the chief, who led the chofen race
Through parting feas, deriv'd his fongs of praife: 20
She gave the rapturous ode, whose ardent lay
Sings female force, and vanquish'd Sifera ;
She tun'd to pious notes the pfalmift's lyre,
And fill'd Ifaiah's breast with more than Pindar's fire!
WRITTEN FOR THE LATE DUKE OF GLOUCESTER'S BIRTH-DAY.
The God of battles held,
And footh'd him with her tender charms,
Victorious from the field;
By chance she caft a lovely fmile,
Propitious, down to earth,
And view'd in Britain's happy ifle
Great Gloucester's glorious birth.
Look, Mars, fhe faid; look down, and fee
A child of royal race!
Let's crown the bright Nativity
With every princely grace :
Thy heavenly image let me bear,
And thine a Mars below;
From you his mind to warlike care,
I'll fofter gifts below.
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