Or if invok'd, where Thames's fruitful tides,
Slow through the vale in silver volumes play;
Now your own Phœbus o'er the month presides,
Gives Love the night, and doubly gilds the day:
Thither, indulgent to my prayer,
Ye bright harmonious nymph repair,
To fwell the notes I feebly raise :
So with inspiring ardors warm'd,
May Gower's propitious ear be charm'd,
To listen to my lays.
Beneath the Pole on hills of snow,
Like Thracian Mars, th' undaunted Swede
To dint of sword defies the foe;
In fight unknowing to recede:
From Volga's banks, th' imperious Czar
Leads forth his furry troops to war;
Fond of the softer southern sky:
The Soldan gauls th' Illyrian coaft;
But foon the miscreant moony host,
Before the victor-cross shall fly.
But here, no clarion's shrilling note
The Muse's green retreat can pierce;
The grove, from noisy camps remote,
Is only vocal with my verse :
Here, wing'd with innocence and joy,
Let the soft hours that o'er me fly
Drop freedom, health, and gay defires :
While the bright Seine, t' exalt the soul,
With sparkling plenty crowns the bowl;
And wit and social mirth inspires.
Enamour'd of the Seine, celeftial fair,
(The blooming pride of Thetis' azure train)
Bacchus, to win the nymph who caus'd his care,
Lash'd his fwift tigers to the Celtic plain :
There fecret in her fapphire cell,
He with the Nais wont to dwell;
Leaving the nectar'd feasts of Jove:
And where her mazy waters flow,
He gave the mantling vine, to grow
A trophy to his love,
Shall man from Nature's sanction stray,
With blind Opinion for his guide;
And, rebel to her rightful sway,
Leave all her bounties unenjoy'd?
Fool! Time no change of motion knows;
With equal speed the torrent flows,
To sweep Fame, Power, and Wealth away :
The past is all by Death possess'd;
And frugal Fate that guards the rest,
By giving, bids him live, to-day.
O Gower! through all that destin'd space
What breath the powers allot to me,
Shall fing the virtues of thy race
United, and complete in thee.
O flower of anicent English faith,
Pursue th' unbeaten patriot-path,
In which confirm'd thy father shone:
The light his fair example gives,
Already from thy dawn receives
A lustre equal to its own.
Honour's bright dome, on lasting columns rear'd,
Nor envy rusts, nor rolling years confume;
Loud pæans echoing round the roof are hear'd,
And clouds of incense all the void perfume.
There Phocion, Lælius, Capel, Hyde,
With Falkland feated near his fide,
Fix'd by the Muse the temple grace :
Prophetic of thy happier fame,
She, to receive thy radiant name,
Selects a whiter space.
Imitated from PROPERTIUS, Book iii. Elegy iii.
To green retreats, that shade the Muses stream,
My fancy lately bore me in a dream;
Fir'd with ambitious zeal, my harp I strung,
And Blenheim's field, and fam'd Ramillia fung:
Faft by that spring, where Spenser fat of old,
And great exploits in lofty numbers told.
Phœbus in his Castalian grotto laid,
O'er which a laurel cast her filken shade,
Spy'd me, and hastily when first he spy'd,
Thus, leaning on his golden lyre, he cry'd:
What strange ambition has misplac'd thee there?
Forbear to fing of arms, alas forbear!
Form'd in a gentler mould, henceforth employ
Thy pen to paint the softer scenes of joy.
Thy works may thus the myrtle garland wear,
Prefer'd to grace the toilets of the fair :
When their lov'd youths at night too long delay,
In reading thee they 'll pass the hours away :
And, when they'd make their melting wishes known,
Repeat thy paffion to reveal their own.
Then hafte, the fafer shallows to regain,
Nor dare the stormy dangers of the main.
Ceasing with this reproof, the friendly god, A moffy path, but lightly beaten, show'd: A cave there was, which Nature's hand alone Had arch'd with greens of various kinds o'ergrown; With tymbrels all the vaulted roofs were grac'd, And earthen gods on either fide were plac'd.. Silenus, and the Muses virgin-train, Stood here, with Pan the poet of the plain : Elfewhere the doves of Cytherea's team, Were seen to fip the sweet Castalian stream.
Nine lovely nymphs a several task purfued, For ivy one was fent to search the wood; This to foft numbers join'd harmonious airs, And fragrant rosy wreaths a third prepares.
Me thus the bright Calliope address'd
(Her name the brightness of her form confefs'd):
The filver swans of Venus wait to bear,
Thee safe in pomp along the liquid air.
Pleas'd with thy peaceful province, strait recall
Thy rash design to fing the wounded Gaul.
Harsh sounds the trumpet in the Muses' grove,
But fweet the lute, the lute is fit for love.
No more rehearse the Danube's purple stream,
Let love for ever be the tender theme.
And in thy verse reveal the moving art,
To melt an haughty nymph's relentless heart,
The goddess ceafing, to confirm me more,
My face with hallow'd drops she sprinkled o'er ;
Fetch'd from the fountain, by whose flowery fide,
Soft Waller fung of Sacharifla's pride.
To the Right Honourable the Lady MARGARET CAVENDISH HARLEY.
WITH THE POEMS OF MR. WALLER.
ET others boast the nine Aonian maids,
Inspiring streams, and sweet resounding shades;
Where Phoebus heard the rival bards rehearse,
And bade the laurels learn the lofty verse.
In vain! Nor Phœbus, nor the boafted Nine,
Inflame the raptur'd foul with rays divine :
None but the fair infuse the facred fire,
And love with vocal art informs the lyre.
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