Such harmony! such wit! a face so fair!
So many pointed arrows who can bear?
Who from her wit, or from her beauty flies,
If with her voice she overtakes hin, dies.
Like soldiers so in battle we succeed,
One peril 'scaping, by another bleed;
In vain the dart, or glittering sword we shun,
Condemn'd to perish by the slaught'ring gun.

MYRA.

AT A REVIEW OF THE GUARDS IN HYDE-PARK.

LET meaner beauties conquer singly still,
But haughty Myra will by thousands kill;
Through armed ranks triumphantly she drives,
And with one glance commands a thousand lives:
The trembling heroes, nor resist, nor fly,
But at the head of all their squadrons die.

ΤΟ

MYRA.

NATURE, indulgent, provident and kind,
In all things that excel, some use design'd;
The radiant Sun, of every heavenly light
The first, (did Myra not dispute that right)
Sends from above ten thousand blessings down;
Nor is he set so high for show alone,
His beams reviving with auspicious fire,
Freely we all enjoy what all admire :
The Moon and stars, those faithful guides of night,
Are plac'd to help, not entertain the sight:
Plants, fruits, and flowers the fertile fields produce,
Not for vain ornament, but wholesome use;
Health they restore, and nourishment they give,
We see with pleasure, but we taste to live.

Then think not, Myra, that thy form was meant
More to create desire, than to content;
Would the just Gods so many charms provide
Only to gratify a mortal's pride?

Would they have form'd thee so above thy sex,
Only to play the tyrant, and to vex ?
'Tis impious pleasure to delight in harm,

And Beauty should be kind, as well as charm.

THE

PROGRESS OF BEAUTY.

THE God of day descending from above,
Mixt with the sea, and got the queen of Love.
Beauty, that fires the world, 'twas fit should rise
From him alone who lights the stars and skies.
In Cyprus long, by men and gods obey'd,
The lover's toil she gratefully repaid,
Promiscuous blessings to her slaves assign'd,
And taught the world that Beauty should be kind.
Learn by this pattern, all ye fair, to charm,
Bright be your beams, but without scorching warm.
Helen was next from Greece to Phrygia brought,
With much expense of blood and empire sought:
Beauty and Love the noblest cause afford,
That can try valour, or employ the sword.
Not men alone incited by her charms,

But Heaven's concern'd, and all the gods take arms.

The happy Trojan gloriously possest,
Enjoys the dame, and leaves to Fate the rest.
Your cold reflections, moralists, forbear,
His title's best who best can please the fair.
And now the gods, in pity to the cares,
The fierce desires, distractions, and despairs
Of tortur'd men, while Beauty was confin'd,
Resolv'd to multiply the charming kind.
Greece was the land where this bright race begun,
And saw a thousand rivals to the Sun.

Hence follow'd arts, while each employ'd his care
In new productions to delight the fair:
To bright Aspasia Socrates retir'd,

His wisdom grew but as his love inspir'd;

Those rocks and oaks, which such emotions felt,
Were cruel maids whom Orpheus taught to melt;
Music, and songs, and every way to move
The ravish'd heart, were seeds and plants of love.
The gods, entic'd by so divine a birth,
Descend from Heaven to this new heaven on Earth;
Thy wit, O Mercury, 's no defence from Love;
Nor Mars, thy target; nor thy thunder, Jove.
The mad immortals in a thousand shapes,
Range the wide globe; some yield, some suffer
Invaded, or deceiv'd, not one escapes. [rapes,
The wife, though a bright goddess, thus gives place
To mortal concubines of fresh embrace;
By such examples were we taught to see
The life and soul of Love, is sweet variety.

In those first times, cre charming womankind
Reform'd their pleasures, polishing the mind,
Rude were their revels, and obscene their joys,
The broils of drunkards, and the lust of boys;
Phoebus laments for Hyacinthus dead,
And Juno, jealous, storms at Ganymed.
Return, my Muse, and close that odious scene,
Nor stain thy verse with images unclean;
Of Beauty sing, her shining progress view,
From clime to clime the dazzling light pursue,
Tell how the goddess spread, and how in empire
grew.

Let others govern, or defend the state,
Plead at the bar, or manage a debate,
In lofty arts and sciences excel,

Or in proud domes employ their boasted skill,
To marble and to brass such features give,
The metal and the stone may seem to live;
Describe the stars, and planetary way,
And trace the footsteps of Eternal Day:
Be this, my Muse, thy pleasure and thy care,
A slave to Beauty, to record the fair.
Still wand'ring in love's sweet delicious maze,
To sing the triumphs of some heavenly face,
Of lovely dames, who with a smile or frown
Subdue the proud, the suppliant lover crown.
From Venus down to Myra bring thy song,
To thee alone such tender tasks belong.

From Greece to Afric, Beauty takes her flight,
And ripens with her near approach to light:
Frown not, ye fair, to hear of swarthy dames,
With radiant eyes, that take unerring signs;
Beauty to no complexion is confin'd,
Is of all colours, and by none defin'd;
Jewels that shine, in gold or silver set,
As precious and as sparkling are in jet.
Here Cleopatra, with a liberal heart,
Bounteous of love, improv'd the joy with art,
The first who gave recruited slaves to know
That the rich pearl was of more use than show,

Who with high meats, or a luxurious draught,
Kept love for ever flowing, and full fraught,
Julius and Anthony, those lords of all,
Each in his turn present the conquer'd ball;
Those dreadful eagles, that had fac'd the light
From pole to pole, fall dazzled at her sight:
Nor was her death less glorious than her life,
A constant mistress, and a faithful wife;
Her dying truth some generous tears would cost,
Had not her fate inspir'd the World wel! Lost ;
With secret pride the ravish'd Muses view
The image of that death which Dryden drew.
Pleas'd in such happy climates, warm and bright,
Love for some ages revell'd with delight;
The martial Moors in gallantry refin'd,
Invent new arts to make their charmers kind;
See in the lists, by golden barriers bound,
In warlike ranks they wait the trumpet's sound
Some love-device is wrought on every sword,
And every ribbon bears some mystic word.
As when we see the winged Winds engage,
Mounted on coursers, foaming flame and rage,
Rustling from every quarter of the sky,
North, east, and west, in airy swiftness vie;
One Cloud repuls'd, new combatants prepare
To meet as fierce, and form a thundering war;
So when the trumpet sounding, gives the sign,
The justling chiefs in rude rencounter join,
So meet, and so renew the dextrous fight,
Each fair beholder trembling for her knight;
Still as one falls, another rushes in,

And all must be o'ercome, or none can win.
The victor, from the shining dame, whose eyes
Aided his conqu'ring arm, receives a precious prize.
Thus flourish'd Love, and Beauty reign'd in state,
Till the proud Spaniard gave these glories date:
Past is the gallantry, the fame remains,
Transmitted safe in Dryden's lofty scenes;
Granada 2 lost, beheld her pomps restor'd,
And Almahide 3, once more by kings ador'd.

Love, driven thence, to colder Britain flies,
And with bright nymphs the distant Sun supplies:
Romances, which relate the dreadful fights,
The loves and prowess of advent'rous knights,
To animate their rage, a kiss, record,
From Britain's fairest nymph was the reward;
Thus ancient to Love's empire was the claim
Of British Beauty, and so wide the fame,
Which, like our flag upon the seas, gives law
By right avow'd, and keeps the world in awe.
Our gallant kings, of whom large annals prove
The mighty deeds, stand as renown'd for love;
A monarch's right o'er Beauty they may claim,
Lords of that ocean from whence Beauty came.
Thy Rosamond, great Henry, on the stage,
By a late Muse presented in our age,
With aking hearts, and flowing eyes we view,
While that dissembled death presents the true
In Bracegirdle the persons so agree,
That all seems real the spectators see.

1 All for Love; or, The World well Lost: written by Mr. Dryden.

2 The Conquest of Granada, written by Mr. Dryden.

The part of Almahide, performed by Mrs. Eleanor Gwyn, mistress to king Charles II.

4 A famous actress.

Of Scots and Gauls defeated, and their kings, Thy captives, Edward, Fame for ever sings; Like thy high deeds, thy noble loves are prais'd, Who hast to Love the noblest trophy rais d: Thy statues, Venus, though by Phidias's hand, Design'd immortal, yet no longer stand; The magic of thy shining zone is past, But Salisbury's garter shall for ever last, Which, through the world by living monarchs worn, Adds grace to sceptres, and does crowns adorn.

If such their fame who gave these rights divine To sacred Love, O! what dishonour's thine, Forgetful queen, who sever'd that bright head 5 Which charm'd two mighty monarchs to her bed? Hadst thou been born a man, thou hadst not err'd, Thy fame had liv'd, and Beauty been preferr'd; But O! what mighty magic can assuage A woman's envy, and a bigot's rage?

Love tir'd at length, Love, that delights to smile,
Flying from scenes of horrour 6, quits our isle,
With Charles, the Cupids and the Graces gone,
In exile live, for Love and Charles were one;
With Charles he wanders, and for Charles he mourns,
But O! how fierce the joy when Charles returns!
As eager flames, with opposition pent,
Break out impetuous when they find a vent;
As a fierce torrent, bounded on his race,
Forcing his way, rolls with redoubled pace:
From the loud palace to the silent grove,
All, by the king's example, live and love;
The Muses with diviner voices sing;
And all rejoice to please the godlike king.

Then Waller in immortal verse proclaims
The shining court, and all the glittering dames;
Thy beauty, Sidney, like. Achilles' sword,
Resistless, stands upon as sure record;

The fiercest here, and the brightest dame,
Both sung alike, shall have their fate the same.
And now, my Muse, a nobler flight prepare,
And sing so loud that Heaven and Earth may hear.
Behold from Italy an awful ray

Of heavenly light illuminates the day,
Northward she bends, majestically bright,
And here she fixes her imperial light.

Be bold, be bold, my Muse, nor fear to raise
Thy voice to her who was thy earliest praise;
What though the sullen Fates refuse to shine,
Or frown severe on thy audacious line,
Keep thy bright theme within thy steady sight,
The clouds shall fly before the dazzling light,
And everlasting day direct thy lofty flight.
Thon who has never yet put on disguise
To flatter faction, or descend to vice;
Let po vain fear thy generous ardour tame,
But stand erect, and sound as loud as Fame.

As when our eye some prospect would pursue,
Descending froin a hill, looks round to view,
Passes o'er lawns and meadows till it gains
Some favourite spot, and, fixing, there remains :
With equal rapture my transported Muse
Flies other objects, this bright theme to choose,
Queen of our hearts, and charmer of our sight,
A monarch's pride, his glory and delight,

5 Mary queen of Scots, beheaded by queen Elizabeth.

The Rebellion; and death of king Charles I. 7 The lady Dorothy Sidney, celebrated by Mr. Waller under the name of Sacharissa.

Princess ador'd and lov'd! if verse can give
A deathless name, thine shall for ever live;
Invok'd where-e'er the British lion roars,
Extended as the seas that gird the British shores.
The wise immortals in their seats above,
To crown their labours, still appointed Love;
Phoebus enjoy'd the goddess of the sea,
Alcides had Omphale, James has thee.
O happy James! content thy mighty mind,
Grudge not the world, for still thy queen is kind,
To lie but at whose feet more glory brings,
Than 'tis to tread on sceptres, and on kings:
Secure of empire in that beauteous breast,
Who would not give their crowns to be so blest?
Was Helen half so far, so form'd for joy,
Well chose the Trojan, and well burnt was Troy.
But ah! what strange vicissitudes of fate,
What chance attends on every worldly state?
As when the skies were sack'd, the conquer'd gods,
Compell'd from Heaven, forsook their blest abodes;
Wandering in woods, they hid from den to den,
And sought their safety in the shapes of men:
As when the winds with kindling flames conspire,
The blaze increases, as they fan the fire;
From roof to roof the burning torrent pours,
Nor spares the palace, nor the loftiest towers:
Or, as the stately pine, erecting high
Her lofty branches, shooting to the sky,
If riven by the thunderbolt of Jove,
Down falls at once the pride of all the grove,
Level with lowest shrubs lies the tall head,
That, rear'd aloft, as to the clouds was spread.
So *
But cease, my Muse, thy colours are too faint,
Hide with a veil those griefs which none can paint;
This Sun is set.-But see in bright array
What hosts of heavenly light recruit the day.
Love, in a shining galaxy, appears
Triumphant still, and Grafton leads the stars.
Ten thousand Loves, ten thousand several ways
Invade adoring crowds, who die to gaze;
Her eyes resistless as the Syrens' voice,
So sweet's the charm, we make our fate our choice.
Who most resembles her let next be nam'd,
Villiers, for wisdom and deep judgment fam'd,
Of a high race, victorious Beauty brings
To grace our courts, and captivate our kings.

*

*

*

*

*

With what delight my Muse to Sandwich flies!
Whose wit is piercing as her sparkling eyes:
Ah! how she mounts, and spreads her airy wings,
And tunes her voice, when she of Ormond sings!
Of radiant Ormond, only fit to be
The successor of beauteous Ossory.

Richmond's a title, that but nam'd, implies
Majestic graces, and victorious eyes;
Fair Villers first, then haughty Stuart came,
And Brudenal now no less adorns the name.
Dorset already is immortal made

In Prior's verse, nor needs a second aid.
By Bentinck and fair Rutenberg we find,
That Beauty to no climate is confin'd.

Rupert, of royal blood, with modest grace,
Blushes to hear the triumphs of her face.

Not Helen with St. Albans might compare: Nor let the Muse omit Scroop, Holms, and Hare: Hyde, Venus is; the Graces are Kildare.

1 Countess of Orkney.

Soft and delicious as a southern sky, Are Dashwood's smiles; when Darnley 2 frown we die.

Careless, but yet secure of conquest still,
Lu'son 3, unaiming, never fails to kill;
Guiltless of pride to captivate, or shine,
Bright without art, she wounds without design:
But Wyndham like a tyrant throws the dart,
And takes a cruel pleasure in the smart,
Proud of the ravage that her beauties make,
Delights in wounds, and kills for killing sake;
Asserting the dominion of her eyes,

As heroes fight for glory, not for prize.

The skilful Muse's earliest care has been The praise of never-fading Mazarine; The Poet and his theme, in spite of Time, For ever young, enjoy an endless prime. With charms so numerous Myra does surprize, The lover knows not by which dart he dies; So thick the volley, and the wound so sure, No flight can save, no remedy can cure. Yet dawning in her infancy of light, O see! another Brudenel, heavenly bright, Born to fulfil the glories of her line, And fix Love's empire in that race divine.

Fain would my Muse to Cecil bend her sight, But turns astonish'd from the dazzling light, Nor dares attempt to climb the steepy flight.

O Kneller like thy pictures were my song, Clear like thy paint, and like thy pencil strong; These matchless Beauties should recorded be, Immortal in my verse, as in thy Gallery 7.

TO THE

COUNTESS OF NEWBOURG,

INSISTING EARNESTLY TO BE TOLD WHO I MEANT
BY MYRA.

WITH Myra's Charms, and my extreme despair,
Long had my Muse amaz'd the reader's ear,
My friends, with pity, heard the mournful sound,
And all enquir'd from whence the fatal wound;
'Th' astonish'd world beheld an endless flame,
Ne'er to be quench'd, unknowing whence it came:
So scatter'd fire from scorch'd Vesuvius flies,
Unknown the source from whence those flames arise:
Egyptian Nile so spreads its waters round,
O'erflowing far and near, its head unfound.

Myra herself, tonch'd with the moving song,
Would needs be told to whom those plaints belong;
My timorous tongue, not daring to confess,
Trembling to name, would fain have had her guess;
Impatient of excuse, she urges still,
Persists in her demand, she must, she will;
If silent, I am threaten'd with her hate;
If I obey-Ah! what may be my fate?
Uncertain to conceal, or to unfold;

She smiles the goddess siniles-and I grow bold.

2 Lady Catherine Darnley, dutchess of Buckingham.

Lady Gower.

4 Monsieur St. Evremont.

5 Lady Molyneux.

Lady Ranelagh.

The Gallery of Beauties in Hampton-Court,

drawn by sir Godfrey Kneller.

Mock'd with deluding looks and smiles,

When on her pity I depend,

My airy hope she soon beguiles,

And laughs to see my torments never end.

III.

So up the steepy hill, with pain, The weighty stone is roll'd in vain, Which, having touch'd the top, recoils, And leaves the lab'rer to renew his toils.

ΤΟ

MYRA.

LOST in a labyrinth of doubts and joys,
Whom now her smiles reviv'd, her scorn destroys:
She will, and she will not, she grants, denies,
Consents, retracts, advances, and then flies,
Approving, and rejecting in a breath,
Now proff ring mercy, now presenting death.
Thus hoping, thus despairing, never sure,
How various are the torments I endure !
Cruel estate of doubt! Ah, Myra, try
Once to resolve-or let me live, or die.

ΤΟ

MYRA. I.

THOUGHTFUL nights, and restless waking,
Oh, the pains that we endure!
Broken faith, unkind forsaking,
Ever doubting, never sure.

II.

Hopes deceiving, vain endeavours, What a race has Love to run!

False protesting, fleeting favours, Ev'ry, ev'ry way undone.

III.

Still complaining, and defending,
Both to love, yet not agree;
Fears tormenting, passion rending,
Oh! the pangs of jealousy!
IV.

From such painful ways of living,
Ah! how sweet, could Love be free!
Still presenting, still receiving,
Fierce, immortal ecstacy.

ΤΟ

MYRA.

SINCE truth and constancy are vain,
Since neither love, nor sense of pain,
Nor force of reason can persuade,
Then let example be obey'd.

In courts and cities, could you see
How well the wanton fools agree;
Were all the curtains drawn, you'd find
Not one, perhaps, but who is kind.

Minerva, naked from above,
With Venus, and the wife of Jove,
Exposing ev'ry beauty bare,
Descended to the Trojan heir;
Yet this was she whom poets name
Goddess of Chastity and Fame.

Penelope, her lord away,
Gave am'rous audiences all day;
Now round the bowl the suitors sit,
With wine, provoking mirth and wit,
Then down they take the stubborn bow,
Their strength, it seems, she needs must know.
Thus twenty chearful winters past,
She's yet immortaliz'd for chaste.

Sirile Myra, then, reward my flame,
And be as much secure of fame;
By all those matchless beauties fir'd,
By my own matchless love inspir'd;
So will I sing, such wonders write,
That when th' astonish'd world shall cite
A nymph of spotless worth and fame,
Myra shall be th' immortal name.

SONG TO MYRA.

FORSAKEN of my kindly stars,
Within this melancholy grove

I waste my days and nights in tears,
A victim to ingrateful Love.

The happy still untimely end,

Death flies from grief, or why should I So many hours in sorrow spend,

Wishing, alas! in vain to die?

Ye powers, take pity of my pain,
This, only this is my desire;
Ah! take from Myra her disdain,
O let me with this sigh expire.

That without hope, 'twou'd die as soon,
A little hope-but I have none :
On air the poor Camelions thrive,
Deny'd e'en that, my love can live.

V.

As toughest trees in storms are bred, And grow in spite of winds, and spread The more the tempest tears and shakes My love, the deeper root it takes.

VI.

Despair, that aconite does prove,
And certain death, to others' love;
That poison, never yet withstood,
Does nourish mine, and turns to food.
VII.

O for what crime is my torn heart
Condemn'd to suffer deathless smart?
Like sad Prometheus, thus to lie
In endless pain, and never die.

PHYLLIS DRINKING.

I.

MYRA. I.

PREPAR'D to rail, resolv'd to part,
When I approach'd the perjur'd fair, ⚫
What is it awes my timorous heart?
Why does my tongue forbear?

II.

With the least glance, a little kind,

Such wond'rous pow'r have Myra's charms, She calms my doubts, enslaves my mind, And all my rage disarms.

III. Forgetful of her broken vows,

When gazing on that form divine, Her injur'd vassal trembling bows, Nor dares her slave repine.

THE ENCHANTMENT.

IN IMITATION OF THEOCRITUS.

Mix, mix the philters, quick-she flies, she flies.
Deaf to my call, regardless of my cries.

Are vows so vain? could oaths so feeble prove?
Ah! with what ease she breaks those chains of Love!
Whom Love with all his force had bound in vain,
Let charms compel, and magic rites regain.

Begin, begin, the mystic spells prepare,
Bring Myra back, my perjur'd wanderer.
Queen of the night, bright empress of the stars,
The friend of Love, assist a lover's cares;
And thou, infernal Hecate, be nigh,
At whose approach fierce wolves affrighted fly:
Dark tombs disclose their dead, and hollow cries
Echo from under ground-Arise, arise.

Begin, begin, the mystic spells prepare,
Bring Myra back, my parjur'd wanderer.
As, crackling in the fire, this laurel lies,
So, struggling in love's flame, her lover dies;
It bursts, and in a blaze of light expires,
So may she burn, but with more lasting fires.
Begin, begin, the mystic spells prepare,
Bring Myra back, my perjur'd wanderer.
As the wax melts, which to the flame I hold,
So may she melt, and never more grow cold.

ance,

With forces united, bid resistless defiance,

By the touch of her lips the wine sparkles higher, And her eyes, by her drinking, redouble their fire.

II.

Her cheeks glow the brighter, recruiting their colour,

As flowers by sprinkling revive with fresh odour; Each dart dipt in wine gives a wound beyond curing,

And the liquor, like oil, makes the flame more enduring.

III.

Then Phyllis, begin, let our raptures abound, And a kiss, and a glass, be still going round, Relieving each other, our pleasures are lasting, And we never art cloy'd, yet are ever a tasting.

And hardest hearts by love are melted down.
Begin, begin, the mystic spells prepare,
Bring Myra back, my perjur'd wanderer.
As with impetuous motion whirling round,
This magic wheel still moves, yet keeps its ground,
Ever returning, so may she come back,
And never more the appointed round forsake.

Begin, begin, the mystic spells prepare,
Bring Myra back, my perjur'd wanderer.
Diana, hail! all hail! most welcome thou,
To whom th' infernal king and judges how ;
O thou, whose heart the power of Hell disarms,
Upon a faithless woman try thy charins.
Hark! the dogs howl, she comes, the goddess comes,
Sound the loud trump, and beat our brazen drums.
Begin, begin, the mystic spells prepare,
Bring Myra back, my perjur'd wanderer.
How calm 's the sky! how undisturb'd the deep!
Nature is husht, the very tempests sleep;