Well-weigh'd refults and wife conclufions feem
But empty chat, impertinence to him:
His opiates feize fo ftrongly on the brain,
They make all prudent application vain :
If, therefore, you refolve to live at ease,
To tafte the sweetness of internal peace;
Would not for fafety to a battle fly,
Or choose a fhipwreck, if afraid to die;
Far from thefe pleasurable fhades remove,
And leave the fond, inglorious toil of Love.
This faid, the vanish'd, and methought I found
Myfelf transported to a rifing gronnd;
From whence I did a pleafant vale furvey,
Large was the profpect, beautiful, and gay,
There I beheld th' apartments of delight,
Whofe curious forms oblig'd the wondering
fight;

Some in full view upon the champain plac'd,
With lofty walls and cooling ftreams embrac'd:
Others, in fhady groves, retir'd from noise,
The feat of private and exalted joys.
At a great distance 1 perceiv'd there stood
A ftately building in a spacious wood,
Whofe gilded turrets rais'd their beauteous heads
-High in the air, to view the neighbouring meads,
Where vulgar lovers spend their happy days,
In ruftic dancing, and delightful plays.
But while I gaz'd with admiration round,
I heard from far celeftial mufic found:
So foft, fo moving, fo harmonious, all
The artful charming notes did rife and fall;
My foul, transported with the graceful airs,
Shook off the preffures of its former fears:
I felt afresh the little god begin
To ftir himself, and gentle move within.
Then I repented I had vow'd no more
To love, or Delia's beauteous eyes adore.
Why am I now condemn'd to banishment,
And made an exile, by my own confent?
I fighing cry'd, why fhould I live in pain
Thofe fleeting hours which ne'er return again?
O Delia! what can wretched Strephon do?
Inhuman to himself, and falfe to you!
'I is true, I've promis'd Reafon to remove
From these retreats, and quit bright Delia's love:
But is not Reason partially unkind?
Are all her votaries, like me, confin'd?
Muft none, that under her dominion live,
To Love and Beauty veneration give?
Why then did Nature youthful Delia grace
With a majestic mien, and charming face?
Why did the give her that furprising air;
Make her fo gay, fo witty, and so fair;
Miftrefs of all that can affection move,
If Reafon will not fuffer us to love?
But, fince it must be fo, I'll hafte away;
'Tis fatal to return, and death to stay.
From you, bleft fhades! (if I may call you fo
Inculpable) with mighty pain 1 go:
Compell'd from hence, I leave my quiet here;
I may find fafety, but I buy it dear.

Then turning round, I faw a beauteous boy;
Such as of old were meffengers of joy:
Who art thou, or from whence? if fent, faid I,
To me, my hafte requires a quick reply.

I come, he cry'd, from yon celestial grove,
Where ftands the temple of the God of Love;
With whofe important favour you are grac'd,
And juftly in his high protection plac'd:
Be grateful, Strephon, and obey that god,
Whose fceptre ne'er is chang'd into a rod;
That god, to whom the haughty and the proud,
The bold, the braveft, nay, the belt, hat
bow'd;

That god, whom all the leffer gods adore,
Firft in existence, and the first in power.
From him I come, on embassy divine,
To tell thee, Delia, Delia may be thine;
To whom all beauties rightful tribute pay;
Delia, the young, the lovely, and the gay.
If you dare push your fortune, if you dare
But be refolved, and prefs the yielding fair,
Succefs and glory will your labours crown;
For Fate does rarely on the valiant frown.
But, were you fure to be unkindly us'd,
Boldly receiv'd, and fcornfully refus'd,
He greater glory and more fame obtains,
Who lofes Delia, than who Phyllis gains.
But to prevent all fears that may arise,
(Though fears ne'er move the daring and the
wife)

In the dark volumes of eternal doom,

Where all things past, and prefent, and to come, Are writ, I faw thefe words-“It is decreet, "That Strephon's love to Delia shall succeed." What would you more? While youth and vige laft,

Love, and be happy; they decline too faft
In youth alone you're capable to preve
The mighty transports of a generous love:
For dull old age, with fumbling labour, cloys
Before the blifs, or gives but wither'd joys.
Youth's the best time for action mortals have;
That paft, they touch the confines of the grave.
Now, if you hope to lie in Delia's arms,
To die in raptures, or diffolve in charms,
Quick to the blifsful, happy mansion fly,
Where all is one continu'd ecstasy.
Delia impatiently expects you there:
And fure you will not disappoint the fair.
None but the impotent or old would stay,
When Love invites, and Beauty calls away.

Oh! you convey, faid I, dear charming be
Into my foul a strange disorder'd joy.
I would, but dare not, your advice purfue;
I've promis'd Reason, and I must be true;
Reafon's the rightful emprefs of the foul,
Does all exorbitant defires control,
Checks every wild excurfion of the mind,
By her wife dictates happily confin'd;
And he that will not her commands obey,
Leaves a fafe convoy in a dangerous fea.
True, I love Delia to a vaft excess,
But I must try to make my paffion lefs:
Try, if I can; if poffible, I will;

For I have vow'd, and must that vow fulfi!.
Oh! had I not, with what a vigorous flight
Could I purfue the quarries of delight!
How could I prefs fair Delia in theie arms,
Till I diffolv'd in love, and the in charms!

Could't thou, my angel, but instruct me how

I might be happy, and not break my vow;

Or, by fome fubtle art, diffolve the chain;
You'd foon revive my dying hopes again.
Reason and Love, I know, could ne'er agree;
Both would command, and both superior be.
Reafon's fupported by the finewy force
Of folid argument, and wife discourse:
But Love pretends to use no other arms,
Than foft impreffions, and perfuafive charms.
One must be difobey'd; and thall I prove
A rebel to my Reason, or to Love?
But then, fuppofe I fhould my flame pursue,
Delia may be unkind, and faithlefs too,
Reject my paffion with a proud difdain,
And fcorn the love of such an humble fwain:
Then should I labour under mighty grief,
Beyond all hopes or prospect of relief.
So that, methinks, 'tis fafer to obey
Right Reason, though the bears a rugged sway,
Than Love's foft rule, whofe fubjects undergo,
Early or late, too fad a fhare of woe.
Can I fo foon forget that wretched crew,
Reafon just now expos'd before my view?
If Delia fhould be cruel, I auft be
A sad partaker of their mifery.

But your encouragements fo ftrongly move,
I'm almost tempted to pursue my love:
For fure no treacherous defigus fhould dwell
In one that argues and perfuades so well :
For what could Love by my deftruction gain?
Love's an immortal god, and I a swain ;
And fure I may without fufpicion trust
A god, for gods can never be unjust.

Right you conclude, reply'd the fmiling boy: Love ruins none; 'tis men themselves deftroy: And thofe vile wretches which you lately faw, Tranfgrefs'd his rules, as well as Reason's law. They're not Love's subjects, but the flaves of Luft;

Nor is their punishment fo great as juf :
For Love and Luft effentially divide,
Like day and night, Humility and Pride;
One darkness hides, t' other does always fhine;
This of infernal make, and that divine.
Reason no generous paffion does oppose:
'Tis Luft (not Love) and Reason that are foes.
She bids you fcorn a base inglorious flame,
Black as the gloomy fhade from whence it came :
In this her precepts fhould obedience find;
But yours is not of that ignoble kind.
You err in thinking fhe would difapprove
The brave purfuit of honourable love;

And therefore judge what's harmless an offence,
Invert her meaning, and mistake her sense.
She could not fuch infipid counsel give,
As not to love at all; 'tis not to live;
But, where bright virtue and true beauty lies,
And that in Delia, charming Delia's eyes.
Could you contented fee th' angelic maid
In old Alexis' dull embraces laid?

Or rough-hewn Tityrus poffefs those charms,
Which are in heaven, the heaven of Delia's arms?
Confider, youth, what transport you forego,
The most entire felicity below;

Which is by Fate alone refery'd for you :
Monarchs have been deny'd; for monarchs fue.
I own 'tis difficult to gain the prize;

Or 't would be cheap and low in noble eyes:
But there is one soft minute, when the mind
Is left unguarded, waiting to be kind;
Which the wife lover understanding right,
Steals in like day upon the wings of light.
You urge your vow; but can thofe vows pre-
vail,

Whofe first foundation and whose reason fail?
You vow'd to leave fair Delia; but you thought
Your paffion was a crime, your flame a fault.
But fince your judgment err'd, it has no force
To bind at all, but is diffolv'd of course;
And therefore hefitate no longer here,
But banish all the dull remains of fear.
Dare you be happy, youth? but dare, and be:
I'll be your convoy to the charming the.
What! ftill irrefolute? debating still?
View her, and then forfake her if you will."
I'll
go, faid 1; once more I'll venture all:
'Tis brave to perish by a noble fall.
Beauty no mortal can refift; and Jove
Laid by his grandeur, to indulge his love.
Reason, if I do err, my crime forgive:
Angels alone without offending live.

I go aftray but as the wife have done,
And act a folly which they did not fhun.

Then we, defcending to a spacious plain,
Were foon faluted by a numerous train
Of happy lovers, who confum'd their hours,
With conftant jollity, in fhady bowers.
There I beheld the bleft variety

Of joy, from all corroding troubles free:
Each follow'd his own fancy to delight;
Though all went different ways, yet all went
right.

None err'd, or mifs'd the happiness he fought :
Love to one centre every twining brought.
We pafs'd through numerous pleasant fields and
glades,

By murmuring fountains, and by peaceful shades;
Till we approach'd the confines of the wood,
Where mighty Love's immortal temple stood :
Round the celeftial fane, in goodly rows
And beauteous order, amorous myrtle grows;
Beneath whose fhade expecting lovers wait
For the kind minute of indulgent Fate:
Each had his guardian Cupid, whofe chief care,
By fecret motions, was to warm the fair,
To kindle eager longings for the joy,
To move the flow, and to incline the coy.

The glorious fabric charm'd my wondering fight,

Of vaft extent, and of prodigious height:
The cafe was marble, but the polifh'd ftone
With fuch an admirable luftre fhone,
As if fome architect divine had ftrove
'T' outdo the palace of imperial Jove;
The ponderous gates of maffy gold were made,
With di'monds of a mighty fize inlaid;
Here stood the winged guards, in order plac'd,
With fhining darts and golden quivers grac'd:
As we approach'd, they clapp'd their joyful wings,
And cry'd aloud, Tune, tune your warbling
firings;

The grateful youth is come, to facrifice
At Delia's altar to bright Delia's eyes:
With harmony divine his foul inspire,
That he may boldly touch the facred fire;
And ye that wait upon the blushing fair,
Celestial incenfe and perfumes prepare;
While our great god her panting bofom warms,
Refines her beauties, and improves her charms.
Entering the fpacious dome, my ravish'd

eyes

A wondrous fcene of glory did furprife:
The riches, fymmetry, and brightness, all
Did equally for admiration call!
But the defcription is a labour fit
For none beneath a laureat angel's wit.

Amidst the temple was an altar made
Of folid gold, where adoration's paid;
Here I perform'd the ufual rites with fear,
Not daring boldly to approach too near;
Till from the god a fmiling Cupid came,
And bid me touch the confecrated flame;
Which done, my guide my eager fteps convey'd
To the apartment of the beauteous maid.
Before the entrance was her altar rais'd,
On pedestals of polish'd marble plac'd :
By it her guardian Cupid always ftands,
Who troops of iniffionary Loves commands:
To him with foft addreffes all repair:
Each for his captive humbly, begs the fair:
Though ftill in vain they importun'd; for he
Would give encouragement to none but me.
There ftands the youth, he cry'd, must take a
blifs;

The lovely Delia can be none but his :
Fate has felected him; and mighty Love
Confirms below what that decrees above.
Then prefs no more; there's not another fwain
On earth, but Strephon, can bright Delia gain.
Kneel, youth, and with a grateful mind renew
Your vows; fwear you'll eternally be true.
But if you dare be falfe, dare perjur'd prove,
You'll find, in fure revenge, affronted Love
As hot, as fierce, as terrible, as Jove.

Hear me, ye gods, faid I, now hear me fwear,
By all that's facred, and by all that's fair!
If I prove falfe to Delia, let me fall

The common obloquy, condemn'd by all!
Let me the utmoft of your vengeance try;
Forc'd to live wretched, and unpity'd die!
Then he expos'd the lovely fleeping maid,
Upon a couch of new-blown rofes laid.

3

1

The blushing colour in her cheeks exprefs'd
What tender thoughts infpir'd her heaving break.
Sometimes a figh half-fmother'd stole away;
Then he would Strephon, charming Strephon,
fay:

Sometimes fhe, fmiling, cry'd, You love 'tis true;
But will you always, and be faithful too?
Ten thousand graces play'd about her face;
Ten thousand charms attending every grace:
Each admirable feature did impart

A fecret rapture to my throbbing heart.
The nymph imprifon'd in the brazen tower,
When Jove defcended in a golden fhower,
Lefs beautiful appear'd, and yet her eyes
Brought down that god from the neglected ski
So moving, fo transporting was the fight,
So much a goddess Delia feem'd, fo bright,
My ravish'd foul, with fecret wonder fraught,
Lay all diffolv'd in ecstasy of thought.

Long time I gaz'd; but as I trembling drew
Nearer, to make a more obliging view,
It thunder'd loud, and the ungrateful noife
Wak'd me, and put an end to all my joys.

THE FORTUNATE COMPLAINT.

As Strephon, in a wither'd cypress fhade,
For anxious thought and fighing lovers made,
Revolving lay upon his wretched state,
And the hard ufage of too partial Fate,
Thus the fad youth complain'd: Once happy
fwain,

Now the most abject fhepherd of the plain?
Where's that harmonious concert of delights,
Thofe peaceful days and pleafurable nights,
That generous mirth and noble jollity,
Which gaily made the dancing minutes flee?
Difpers'd and banish'd from my troubled breaf;
Nor leave me one fhort interval of reft.

Why do I profecute a hopeless flame,
And play in torment fuch a loofing game?
All things confpire to make my ruin fure?
When wounds are mortal, they admit no cure.
But Heaven fometimes does a miraculous thing
When our last hope is just upon the wing;
And in a moment drives thofe clouds away,
Whofe fullen darkness hid a glorious day.

Why was I born, or why do I furvive;
To be made wretched only, kept alive?
Fate is too cruel in the harsh decree,
That I must live, yet live in mifery.
Are all its pleafing happy moments gone?
Muft Strephon be unfortunate alone?
On other fwains it lavishly beftows;

On them each nymph neglected favour throws.
They meet compliance ftill in every face,
And lodge their paffions in a kind embrace;
Obtaining from the foft incurious maid

True love for counterfeit, and gold for lead.

Succefs on Mævius always does attend;
Inconftant fortune is his conftant friend:

* Danae,

He levels blindly, yet the mark does hit;
And owes the victory to chance, not wit.
But let him conquer ere one blow be struck:
I'd not be Mævius, to have Mævius's luck.
Proud of my fate, I would not change my chains
For all the trophies purring Mævius gains;
But rather ftill live Delia's flave, than be
Like Mævius filly, and like Mævius free.
But he is happy, loves the common road;
And, pack-horfe like, jogs on beneath his load.
If Phyllis peevish or unkind does prove,
It ne'er difturbs his grave mechanic love.
A little joy his languid flame contents,
And makes him eafy under all events.
But when a paffion's noble and fublime,
And higher still would every moment climb;
If 'tis accepted with a just return,
The fire's immortal, will for ever burn,
And with fuch raptures fills the lover's breast,
That faints in paradise are scarce more bleft.
But I lament my miferies in vain ;
For Delia hears me, pitilefs, complain.
Suppose the pities, and believes me true,
What fatisfaction can from thence accrue,
Unless her pity makes her love me too?
Perhaps the loves ('tis but perhaps, I fear,
For that's a blefling can't be bought too dear)
If he has fcruples that oppofe her will,
I muft, alas! be miferable fill.

Though, if the loves, thofe fcruples foon will fly
Before the reafoning of the Deity:

For, where Love enters, he will rule alone,
And fuffer no copartner in his throne;
And thofe falfe arguments that would repel
His high injunctions, teach us to rebel.

What method can poor Strephon then propound,

To cure the bleeding of his fatal wound,
If fhe, who guided the vexatious dart,
Refolves to cherish and increase the smart ?
Go, youth, from these unhappy plains remove,
Leave the purfuit of unfuccessful love :
Go, and to foreign fwains thy griefs relate;
Tell them the cruelty of frowning Fate;
Tell them the noble charms of Delia's mind;
Tell them how fair, but tell them how unkind.
And when few years thou haft in forrow spent
(For fure they cannot be of large extent),
In prayers for her thou lov'ft, refign thy breath,
And blefs the minute gives thee ease and death.
Here paus'd the fwain-when Delia driving by
Her bleating flock to fome fresh pasture nigh,
By L ve directed, did her fteps convey
Where Strephon, wrapp'd in filent forrow, lay:
As foon as he perceiv'd the beauteous maid,
He rofe to meet her, and thus, trembling, said:
When humble fuppliants would the gods ap-
peale,

And in fevere afflictions beg for eafe,
With conftant importunity they fue,
And their petitions every day renew;
Grow ftill more earneft as they are deny'd,
Nor one well-weigh'd expedient leave untry'd,
Till Heaven thofe bleffings they enjoy'd before
Not only does return, but gives them more.

O, do not blame me, Delia! if I prefs So much, and with impatience, for redrefs. My ponderous griefs no cafe my foul allow ; For they are next t' intolerable now:

How fhall then fupport them, when they

grow

To an excess, to a distracting woe?

Since you're endow'd with a celeftial mind.
Relieve like Heaven, and like the gods be kind,
Did you perceive the torments I endure,
Which you first caus'd, and you alone can cure,
They would your virgin foul to pity move,
And pity may at last be chang'd to love.
Some fwains, I own, impofe upon the fair,
And lead the incautious maid into a fnare;
But let them fuffer for their perjury,
And do not punish others crimes with me.
If there's fo many of our fex untrue,
Yours fhould more kindly ufe the faithful few;
Though innocence too oft incurs the fate
Of guilt, and clears itself fometimes too late.
Your nature is to tenderness inclin'd;
And why to me, to me alone unkind?
A common love, by other perfons fhewn,
Meets with a full return; but mine has none :
Nay, fcarce believ'd, though fome deceit as free
As angels flames can for archangels be.
A paffion feign'd, at no repulfe is griev'd,
And values little if it be n't receiv'd:
But love fincere refents the smallest fcorn,
And the unkindnefs does in fecret mourn.

Sometimes I please myself, and think you are
Too good to make me wretched by despair:
That tenderness, which in your foul is plac'd,
Will move you to compaffion fure at laft.
But when I come to take a fecond view
Of my own merits, I defpond of you :
For what can Delia, beauteous Delia, fee,
To raife in her the leaft eiteem for me:
I've nought that can encourage my addrefs;
My fortune's little, and my worth is lefs:
But if a love of the fublimeft kind
Can make impreflion on a generous mind,
If all has real value that's divine,
There cannot be a nobler flame than mine.

Perhaps you pity me; I know you must;
And my affections can no more diftruft:
But what, alas! will helpless pity do?
You pity, but you may defpife me too.
Still I am wretched, if no more you give :
The starving orphan can't on pity live:
He must receive the food for which he cries,
Or he confumes, and, though much pity'd, dies.
My torments ftill do with my paffion grow:
The more I love, the more I undergo.
But fuffer me no longer to remain
Beneath the preffure of fo vaft a pain.
My wound requires fome fpeedy remedy:
Delays are fatal, when defpair is nigh.

Much I've endur'd, much more than I can tell;
Too much, indeed, for one that loves fo well.
When will the end of all my forrows be?
Can you not love? I'm fure you pity me.
But if I must new miferies fuftain,

And be condemn'd to more and stronger pain,