This dreadful image fo poffefs'd her mind,
That defperate any fuccour elfe to find,
She ceas'd all farther hope; and now began
To make reflexion on th' unhappy man.
Rich, brave, and young, who past expreffion lov'd
Proof to disdain, and not to be remov'd:
Of all the men refpected and admir'd,
Of all the dames, except herself, defir'd:
Why not of her? preferr'd above the reft
By him with knightly deeds, and open love pro-
So had another been, where he his vows addrefs'd.
This quell'd her pride, yet other doubts remain❜d,
That once disdaining, she might be disdain'd.
The fear was juft, but greater fear prevail'd,
Fear of her life by hellish hounds affail'd:
He took a low'ring leave; but who can tell,
What outward hate might inward love conceal?
Her fex's arts fhe knew, and why not, then,
Might deep diffembling have a place in men ?
Here hope began to dawn; refolv'd to try,
She fix'd on this her utmost remedy;
Death was behind, but hard it was to die.
'Twas time enough at last on death to call,
The precipice in fight: a fhrub was all,
That kindly stood betwixt to break the fatal fall.
One maid she had belov'd above the reft;
Secure of her, the fecret fhe confefs'd;
And now the chearful light her fears difpell'd,
She with no winding turns the truth conceal'd,
But put the woman off, and ftood reveal'd;
With faults confefs'd commiffion'd her to go,
If pity yet had place, and reconcile her foe;
The welcome meffage made, was foon receiv'd;
'Twas to be wish'd, and hop'd, but scarce believ'd;
Fate feem'd a fair occafion to present,
He knew the fex, and fear'd fhe might repent,
Should he delay the moment of confent,
There yet remain'd to gain her friends (a care
The modefty of maidens well might spare;)
But she with fuch a zeal the cause embrac'd,
(As women, where they will, are all in haste)
The father, mother, and the kin befide,
Were overborn by fury of the tide ;
With full consent of all she chang'd her state;
Refiftless in her love, as in her hate.
By her example warn'd, the reft beware;
More easy, lefs imperious, were the fair;
And that one hunting, which the devil defign'd
For one fair female, loft him half the kind.
LD as I am, for ladies love unfit,
The pow'r of beauty I remember yet,
Which once inflam'd my foul, and still inspires my wit,
If love be folly, the fevere divine
Has felt that folly, tho he cenfures mine;
Pollutes the pleasures cf a chaste embrace,
Acts what I write, and propagates in grace,
With riotous excefs, a prieftly race.
Suppose him free, and that I forge th' offence,
He shew'd the way, perverting firft my sense:
In malice witty, and with venom fraught,
He makes me speak the things I never thought.
Compute the gains of his ungovern'd zeal;
Ill futes his cloth the praise of railing well.
The world will think that what we loosely write,
Tho now arraign'd, he red with some delight;
Because he seems to chew the cud again,
When his broad comment makes the text too plain;
And teaches more in one explaining page,
Than all the double meanings of the stage.
What needs he paraphrafe on what we mean?
We were at worst but wanton; he's obfcene.
I, not my fellows, nor myself excuse;
But love's the subject of the comic muse :
Nor can we write without it, nor would you
A tale of only dry inftruction view;
Nor love is always of a vicious kind,
But oft to virtuous acts inflames the mind,
Awakes the fleepy vigor of the foul,
And brushing o'er adds motion to the pool.
Love, ftudious how to pleafe, improves our parts
With polish'd manners, and adorns with arts.
Love first invented verfe, and form'd the rhime,
The motion meafur'd, harmoniz'd the chime;
To lib'ral acts enlarg'd the narrow foul'd,
Soften'd the fierce, and made the coward bold :
The world, when wafte, he peopled with increafe,
And warring nations reconcil'd in peace.
Ormond, the first, and all the fair may find,
In this one legend, to their fame defign'd,
When beauty fires the blood, how love exalts the
mind.
N that sweet ifle where Venus keeps her court,
And ev'ry grace, and all the loves, refort; Where either fex is form'd of fofter earth, And takes the bent of pleasure from their birth;
There liv'd a Cyprian lord above the rest
Wife, wealthy, with a num'rous iffue blefs'd.
But as no gift of fortune is fincere,
Was only wanting in a worthy heir:
His eldest born, a goodly youth to view,
Excell'd the rest in shape, and outward fhew,
Fair, tall, his limbs with due proportion join'd,
But of a heavy, dull, degenerate mind.
His foul bely'd the features of his face;
Beauty was there, but beauty in difgrace.
A clownish mein, a voice with ruftic found,
And stupid eyes that ever lov'd the ground.
He look'd like nature's error, as the mind
And body were not of a piece defign'd,
But made for two,and by mistake in one were join'd.
The ruling rod, the father's forming care,
Were exercis'd in vain on wit's despair;
The more inform'd, the lefs he understood,
And deeper funk by flound'ring in the mud.
Now fcorn'd of all, and grown the public
shame,
The people from Galefus chang'd his name,
And Cymon call'd, which fignifies a brute;
So well his name did with his nature fute.
His father, when he found his labor loft,
And care employ'd, that answer'd not the cost,
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