Place me where no foft Breeze of Summer Win
Did e'er the ftiffned Soil unbind:
Where no intruding Warmth e'er durft invade,
But Winter holds his unmolested Seat
In all his hoary Robes array'd,
And rattling Storms of Hail, and noife Tempefts beat.
Place me beneath the (corching Blaze
Of the fierce Sun's immediate Rays;
Where Houfe nor Cottage e'er were feen,
Nor rooted Plant or Tree, nor fpringing Green.
Yet (lovely Lalage!) my generous Flame
Shall ne'er expire, I'll boldly fing of thee,
Charm'd with the Mufick of thy Name,
And guarded by the Gods of Love and Poetry.
Te Maris & Terræ, numercque carentis Arena
Menforem, cohibent, Achyta, &c.
Printed in Mr. Prior's Poems, Page 135.
AY, dearest Villiers, poor departed Friend,
Since fleeting Life thus fuddenly must end;
Say, what did all thy bufie Hopes avail,
That anxious thou from Fole to Pole didft Sail,
E're on the Chin the fpringing Beard began
To fpread a doubtful Down, and promife Man?
Yender difplay'd the warlike Banner bears
REVENGE, infcrib'd in bloody Characters.
Revenge and Ruin lead the furious Band;
Horror and difmal Deaths its Steps attend;
Conqueft at length comes panting up behind.
Methinks the azure Curtains of the Sky
Op'ning, prefent all Heav'n unto my wond'ring Eye......
The Gods are all in Counfel fate,
Determining the Trojan Fate.
Jove's Thunder-bearer arm'd does ftand;
Pallas her Ægis takes in hand:...
And all but Venus will comply
With Troy's determin'd Destiny.
Under her Conduct, thou in vain fhalt bear·
The hard Fatigues of unsuccessful War.
Some Love-Intreague more ski full to attempt,
Braver in Venus than in Mars bis.Camp :
Where theu might'ft out of Danger range and rove
Through all the hidden Myfteries of Love:
Where thou might with Perfumes anoint thy Hair,
And tune in wanton Airs thy warbling Lyre,
Grateful and pleafing to the feeble Fair.
But in her Camp in vain fhalt thou refide,
In Pleasure drown'd and with Enjoyment. cloy'd:
In vain fhalt thou attempt to fly
From thy pufuing Destiny:
At length thou shalt (but oh too late!).
Feel the long, long deferved Blow of Fate.
See, fee Ulyffes and the Pylion Sire
For fculking Paris earnestly enquire..
See fierce Merion feeks to bring him forth,
Big with a fwelling Tide of Wrath.
And all the injur'd Greeks, whofe bleeding Wounds
Excite their Courage to redress their Wrongs.
Whofe reaking Swords when feeble you
Half Dead with Fear fhall trembling view,
Swift, as the panting Doe
Spying the Wolf her hungry Foe,
Winged with Fear, thou'lt leave the warlike Seat,
And feek amongst the Fair a fafe Retreat.
IV.
Achilles fhall awhile refent his Wrong,
Whofe Abfence may the Trojan Fate prolong:
But when appeas'd, no more fhall he retreat,
But with redoubled Force his Blows repeat,
Until in Seas of Blood he quench his angry Heat.
Thousands of Men fhall fall, and Trojan Dames, -
Embarqu'd for Styx in their own Crimson Streams.
At length ten rowling Years fhall bring about the times;'
When Troy first drown'd in Blood must end in Flames.
Then in one blazing Pile fhall Troy expire,
And then thy Flames of Love fhall end in Flames of Fire.
ODE XIX.
By Mr. CONGREVE
Mater fæva Cupidinum, &c.
In the Third Mifcellany. Page 137..
HE Tyrant Queen of foft Defires,
With the refiftless Aid of fprightly Wine,
And wanton Eafe, confpires:
To make my Heart its Peace refign,
And to admit Love's long rejected Fires.
For beauteous Glycera I burn;
The Flames fo long repell'd with double force return:
Endless her Charms appear, and fhine more bright
Than polifh'd Marble when reflecting Light:
With winning Coynefs fhe my Soul difarms.
And when her Looks are coldeft, moft fhe warms:
Her Face darts forth a thousand Rays
Whofe Lufire an unwary Sight betrays,
My Eye-balls fwim, and I grow giddy while I gaze.
II.
She comes! She comes! fhe rushes in my Veins!
At once all Venus enters, and at large the reigns!
Cyprus no more with her Abode is bleft,
I am her Palace, and her Throne my Breast.
Of Savage Scythian Arms no more I write,
Or Parthian Archers, who in flying fight;
And make rough War their sport;
Such idle Themes no more fhall move
Nor any thing but what's of high Import;
And what's of high Import but Love?
Vervain and Gums, and the green Turf prepare ;
With Wine of two Years Old, your Cups be fill'd:
After our Sacrifice and Pray'r,
The Goddess may incline her Heart to yield.
ODE XXII.
By Lord ROSCOMMON.
Printed in the First Part of Mifcellany Poems, Page 99.
Irtue, Dear Friend, needs no Defence,
The fureft Guard is Innocence:
None knew, 'till Guilt created Fear,
What Darts or poyfon'd Arrows were.
Integrity undaunted goes
Through Lybian Sands or Scythian Snows,
Or where Hydafpes wealthy fide
Pays Tribute to the Perfian Pride.
For as (by amorous Thoughts betray'd)
Careless in Sabine Woods I ftray'd,
A grifly foaming Wolf, unted,
Met me unarm'd, yet trembling fled.
No Beaft of more portentous Size,'
In the Hercinian Foreft lyes;
None fiercer, in Numidia bred,
With Carthage were in Triumph led.
Set me in the Remotest Place,
That Neptune's trozen Arms embrace,
Where angry Jove did never spare
One Breath of kind and temp'rate Air;
|