Thus at his birth two deities

Their bleffings did impart ;

And love was breath'd into his eyes,
And glory form'd his heart.

His childhood makes of war a game;
Betimes his beauty charms

The fair; who burn'd with equal flame
For him, as he for arms.

1699.

ON A

PEACOCK,

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B Y

FINELY CUT IN VELLUM

MOLINDA.

WHEN Fancy did Molinda's hand invite,
Without the help of colour, fhade, or light,

To form in vellum, fpotlefs as her mind,
The fairest image of the feather'd kind,
Nature herself a strict attendance paid,

Charm'd with th' attainments of th' illuftrious maid,
Inspir'd her thought, and, fmiling, faid, I'll fee
How well this fair-one's art can copy me.

So to her favourite Titian once the came,

To guide his pencil, and atteft his fame,
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And

With transport granting all that she could give,
And bid his Works to wondering ages live.

Nor with lefs transport here the goddess fees
The curious piece advance by flow degrees;
At last such kill in every part was shown,
It feem'd a new creation of her own;
She starts, to view the finish'd figure rise,
And fpread his ample train, enrich'd with eyes;
To fee, with lively grace, his form exprest,
The stately honours of his rifing crest,
His comely wings, and his soft silky breast!
The leaves of creeping vines around him play,
And Nature's leaves less perfect seem than they.

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O matchlefs bird! whofe race, with nicest care,
Heaven feems in pleasure to have form'd fo fair! :25
From whofe gay plumes ev'n Phoebus with delight
Sees his own rays reflected doubly bright!
Though numerous rivals of the wing there be

That share our praise, when not compar'd to thee,
Soon as thy rifing glories ftrike our eyes,
Their beauty fhines no more, their luftre dies.
So when Molinda, with fuperior charms,
Dazzles the ring, and other nymphs difarms,
To her the rallying Loves and Graces fly,
And, fixing there, proclaim the victory.

No wonder, then, fince fhe was born t'excell,
This bird's fair image fhe defcribes fo well:
Happy, as in fome temple thus to stand,
Immortalized by her fuccefsful hand.

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35

D N

O N

LUCINDA'S TEA-TABLE.

OETS invoke, when they rehearse

POET

In happy ftrains their pleafing dreams, Some Mufe unfeen to crown their verfe, And boast of Heliconian ftreams:

But here, a real Mufe inspires

(Who more reviving ftreams imparts),

Our fancies with the Poets fires,

And with a nobler flame our hearts.

While from her hand each honour'd guest
Receives his cup with liquor crown'd,

He thinks 'tis Jove's immortal feast,
And Venus deals the nectar round..

A's o'er each fountain, Poets fing,
Some lovely guardian-nyinph has fway,
Who from the confecrated fpring

Wild beasts and fatyrs drives away :

So hither dares no savage press,

Who Beauty's fovereign power defies; All, drinking here, her charms confefs, Proud to be conquer'd by her eyes.

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.

When Phoebus try'd his herbs in vain

On Hyacinth, had the been there, With tea she would have cur'd the swain, Who only then had dy'd for her.

January 1, 1701.

THE

M

AR CH.

VI

Ictoria comes! he leaves the forag'd groves! Her flying camp of Graces and of Loves Strike all their tents, and for the march prepare, And to new scenes of triumph wait the fair.

Unlike the flaves which other warriors gain,
That loath fubjection, and would break their chain,
Her rural flaves their abfent victor mourn,
And with not liberty, but her return.

The conquer'd countries droop, while fhe's away,
And flowly to the fpring their contribution pay.
While cooing turtles, doubly now alone,
With their loft loves another lofs bemoan.

Mean time in peopled cities crouds prefs on,
And jealous seem who shall be first undone.
Victories, like Fame, before th' invader fly,
And lovers yet unfeeing hafte to die.
While fhe, with carelefs unelated mind,
Hears daily conquests which she ne'er defign'd:
In her a foft, yet cruel heart is found,
Averse to cure, and vainly griev'd to wound.

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WRITTEN

WRITTEN IN A LADY'S PRAYER-BOOK.

fair a form, with fuch devotion join'd!

A virgin body, and a spotless mind!

Pleas'd with her prayers, while Heaven propitious fees
The lovely votarefs on her bended knees,

Sure it must think fome angel loft its way,
And happening on our wretched earth to stray;
Tir'd with our follies, fain would take its flight,
And begs to be restor❜d to those blest realms of light.

ODE ΟΝ THE

SPRING.

FOR THE MONTH OF MAY.

I.

WANTON Zephyr, come away!

On this fweet, this filent grove,

Sacred to the Mufe and Love,

In gentle wifper'd murmurs play!

Come let thy foft, thy balmy breeze

Diffuse thy vernal fweets around

From sprouting flowers, and blossom'd trees;
While hills and echoing vales refound
With notes, which wing'd musicians fing
In honour to the bloom of spring.

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II. Lovely