If Wealth had ferpents in his breast,
They now were dead, or lull'd to reft.
Beauty, that vain affected thing,
Who join'd the Hymeneal ring,
Approach'd with round unthinking face,
And thus the trifler states her cafe.
She said, that Love's complaints, 'twas known,
Exactly tally'd with her own;
That Wealth had learn'd the felon's arts,
And robb'd her of a thousand hearts;
Defiring judgment against Wealth,
For falsehood, perjury, and stealth :
All which she cou'd on oath depose,
And hop'd the court would flit his nose.
But Hymen, when he heard her name,
Call'd her an interloping dame;
Look'd thro' the crowd with angry state,
And blam'd the porter at the gate,
For giving entrance to the fair,
When the was no essential there.
To fink this haughty tyrant's pride,
He order'd Fancy to prefide.
Hence when debates on beauty rife,
And each bright fair disputes the prize,
To Fancy's court we strait apply,
And wait the fentence of her eye;
In Beauty's realms the holds the feals,
And her awards preclude appeals.
By Mr. GAY. BOOK I.
SING that graceful toy, whose waving play With gentle gales relieves the fultry day, Not the wide fan by Persian dames display'd, Which o'er their beauty cafts a grateful shade; Nor that long known in China's artful land, Which, while it cools the face, fatigues the hand: Nor shall the muse in Afian climates rove, To seek in Indoftan some spicy grove, Where stretch'd at ease the panting lady lies, To shun the fervor of meridian skies, While sweating slaves catch ev'ry breeze of air, And with wide-spreading fans refresh the fair; No busy gnats her pleasing dreams moleft, Inflame her cheek, or ravage o'er her breast. But artificial zephyrs round her fly, And mitigate the fever of the sky.
Stay, wand'ring muse, nor rove in foreign climes, To thy own native shore confine thy rhimes. Assist, ye nine, your loftieft notes employ, Say what celeftial skill contriv'd the toy; Say how this instrument of love began, And in immortal strains display the fan.
Strephon
Strephon had long confess'd his am'rous pain, Which gay Corinna rally'd with disdain : Sometimes in broken words he figh'd his care, Look'd pale, and trembled when he view'd the fair; With bolder freedoms now the youth advanc'd, He dress'd, he laugh'd, he sung, he rhim'd, he danc'd: Now call'd more pow'rful presents to his aid, And, to feduce the mistress, brib'd the maid; Smooth flatt'ry in her softer hours apply'd, The surest charm to bind the force of pride: But still unmov'd remains the scornful dame, Insults her captive, and derides his flame. When Strephon faw his vows dispers'd in air, He fought in folitude to lose his care; Relief in folitude he fought in vain, It serv'd, like music, but to feed his pain. To Venus now the flighted boy complains, And calls the goddess in these tender strains. O potent queen, from Neptune's empire sprung, Whose glorious birth admiring Nereids sung, Who 'midst the fragrant plains of Cyprus rove, Whose radiant prefence gilds the Paphian grove, Where to thy name a thousand altars rise, And curling clouds of incenfe hide the skies : O beauteous Goddess, teach me how to move, Inspire my tongue with eloquence of love.
If
If lost Adonis e'er thy bosom warm'd,
If e'er his eyes, or godlike figure charm'd,
Think on those hours when first you felt the dart,
Think on the restless fever of thy heart;
Think how you pin'd in absence of the swain :
By those uneasy minutes know my pain.
Ev'n while Cydippe to Diana bows,
And at her shrine renews her virgin vows,
The lover, taught by thee, her pride o'ercame;
She reads his oaths, and feels an equal flame:
Oh, may my flame, like thine, Acontius, prove,
May Venus dictate, and reward my love.
When crowds of suitors Atalanta try'd,
She wealth, and beauty, wit and fame defy'd;
Each daring lover with advent'rous pace
Pursu'd his wishes in the dang'rous race;
Like the swift hind, the bounding damsel flies,
Strains to the goal, the distanc'd lover dies.
Hippomenes, O Venus, was thy care,
You taught the swain to stay the flying fair,
Thy golden present caught the virgin's eyes,
She stoops; he rushes on, and gains the prize.
Say, Cyprian deity, what gift, what art,
Shall humble into love Corinna's heart;
If only fome bright toy can charm her fight,
Teach me what present may suspend her flight.
Thus the desponding youth his flame declares,
The goddess with a nod his passion hears.
Far in Cythera stands a spacious grove,
Sacred to Venus and the God of love;
Here the luxuriant myrtle rears her head;
Like the tall oak the fragrant branches spread;
Here nature all her sweets profusely pours,
And paints th' enamell'd ground with various flow'rs;
Deep in the gloomy glade a grotto bends,
Wide through the craggy rock an arch extends,
The rugged stone is cloath'd with mantling vines,
And round the cave the creeping woodbine twines.
Here busy Cupids, with pernicious art,
Form the stiff bow, and forge the fatal dart;
All share the toil; while some the bellows ply,
Others with feathers teach the shafts to fly:
Some with joint force whirl round the stony wheel,
Where streams the sparkling fire from temper'd steel;
Some point their arrows with the nicest skill,
And with the warlike store their quivers fill.
A different toil another forge employs;
Here the loud hammer fashions female toys,
Hence is the fair with ornament supply'd,
Hence sprung the glitt'ring implements of pride;
Each trinket that adorns the modern dame,
First to these little artists ow'd its frame.
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