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Inferior Cupids on their mafter wait;
He fimiles well-pleas'd, and waves his wings in ftate.
Who vindicate their country's ancient claim
Around the ring th' illuftrious rivals move,
And Venus from his forehead took the blinding cloth
Here Mira pafs'd, and fix'd his wondering view,
Her perfect shape diftinguish'd praises drew;
She led the train, and sparkled in the light.
There Stella claims the wreath, and pleads her eyes, By which each day fome new adorer dies.
Serena, by good-humour doubly fair,
With native sweetness charms, and smiling air.
The bloom of ripening fruits, the innocence of May, The opening fweets that months of pleafure bring, The dawn of Love, and life's indulgent fpring.
'Twere endless to defcribe the various darts, With which the fair are arm'd to conquer hearts. Whatever can the ravish'd foul inspire
With tender thoughts, and animate defire,
O! could I find, faid Love, the phoenix fhe,
He fcarce had spoke, when fee-Harmonia came ! Chance brought her there, and not defire of fame, Unknowing of the choice, till she beheld
The god approach to crown her in the field.
At this, more charm'd, the rather 1 bestow,
Take then the wreath, which you, victorious fair,.
TO A BEAUTIFUL LADY, PLAYING ON THE ORGAN,
WHEN fam'd Cecilia on the Organ play'd,
And fill'd with moving founds, the tuneful.
Drawn by the charm, to hear the facred maid,
O happy fair! in whom with pureft light
E mourrai de trop de plaifir
Si je la trouve favourable; Je mourrai de trop de defir Se je la trouve inexorable.
PAINTER, if thou canst safely gaze
On all the wonders of that face;
If thou haft charms to guard a heart
O! teach the mighty charm, that we
Canft thou Love's brighteft lightning draw,
Create a Painter, or a Muse
Whom crouds with awful rapture view; She fits ferene, and smiles on you! Your genius thus infpir'd will foar 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; "Exert thy fire, the monarch faid, "Now be thy boldest strokes difsplay'd, "To let admiring nations fee "Their dreaded victor drawn by thee; "To others thou may'st life impart, "But I'll immortalize. thý art!"