Grants fish to swim, and birds to fly,
And on their skill bids men rely.
Women alone defencelefs live,
To women what does Nature give?
Beauty fhe gives instead of darts,
Beauty, inftead of fhields, imparts;
Nor can the fword, nor fire, oppose
The fair, victorious where fhe goes.
NE midnight when the bear did stand
A-level with Böotes' hand,
And, with their labour fore opprefs'd,
The race of men were laid to rest,
Then to my doors, at unawares,
Came Love, and tried to force the bars.
Who thus affails my doors, I cry'd ?
Who breaks my flumbers? Love reply'd,
Open: a child alone is here!
Here through the moonless night I ftray,
And, drench'd in rain, have loft my way.
Then mov'd to pity by his plight,
Too much in hafte my lamp I light,
And open when a child I fee,
A little child, he feem'd to me;
Who bore a quiver, and a bow;
And wings did to his fhoulders grow.
Within the earth I bid him ftand,
Then chafe and cherish either hand
Between my palms, and wring, with care,
The trickling water from his hair.
Now come, faid he, no longer chill,
We'll bend this bow, and try our skill,
And prove the ftring, how far its power
Remains unflacken'd by the shower.
He bends his bow, and culls his quiver,
And pierces, like a breeze, my liver :
Then leaping, laughing, as he fled,
Rejoice with me, my hoft, he said:
My bow is found in every part,
And you shall rue it at your heart.
AN HYMN TO VENUS,
From the GREEK of SAP PHO.
VENUS, beauty of the fkies,
To whom a thousand temples rise,
Gayly falfe in gentle fmiles,
Full of love-perplexing wiles,
O, goddess! from my heart remove
The wafting cares and pains of love.
If ever thou haft kindly heard
A fong in foft distress prefer'd,
Propitious to my tuneful vow,
O, gentle goddess! hear me now.
Defcend, thou bright, immortal guest,
In all thy radiant charms confefs'd.
Thou once didft leave almighty Jove,
And all the golden roofs above:
The car thy wanton fparrows drew;
Hovering in air they lightly flew ;
As to my bower they wing'd their way,
I faw their quivering pinions play.
The birds difmifs'd (while you remain)
Bore back their empty car again :
Then you, with looks divinely mild,
In every heavenly feature fmil'd,
And afk'd, what new complaints I made,
And why I call'd you to my aid?
What frenzy in my bofom rag'd,
And by what care to be affuag'd?
What gentle youth I would allure,
Whom in my artful toils fecure?
Who does thy tender heart subdue,
Tell me, my Sappho, tell me who?
Though now he shuns thy longing arms,
He foon shall court thy flighted charms;
Though now thy offerings he despise,
He foon to thee fhall facrifice;
Though now he freeze, he soon shall burn,
And be thy victim in his turn.
Celestial vifitant, once more
Thy needful prefence I implore!
In pity come and ease my grief,
Bring my distemper'd foul relief:
Favour thy fuppliant's hidden fires,
And give me all my heart defires.
LESS'D as the immortal gods is he,
The youth who fondly fits by thee, And hears and fees thee all the while Softly speak, and sweetly smile.
'Twas this depriv'd my foul of reft,
And rais'd fuch tumults in my breast;
For while I gaz'd, in tranfport tofs'd,
My breath was gone, my voice was lost.
My bofom glow'd; the fubtle flame
Ran quickly through all my vital frame;
O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung,
My ears with hollow murmurs rung.
In dewy damps my limbs were chill'd,
My blood with gentle horrors thrill'd ;
My feeble pulfe forgot to play,
I fainted, funk, and dy'd away.
ANONYMOUS; FROM STEELE'S COLLECTION.
LONG have the writers of this warlike age
With human facrifices drench'd the stage;
That scarce one Hero dares demand applaufe,
Till, weltering in his blood, the ground he gnaws: 4
As if, like fwans, they only could delight
With dying ftrains, and, while they pleafe, affright.
Our Philips, though 'twere to oblige the fair,
Dares not destroy, where Horace bids him fpare:
His decent fcene like that of Greece appears;
No deaths our eyes offend, no fights our ears.
While he from nature copies every part,
He forms the judgment, and affects the heart.
Oft' as Andromache renews her woe,
The mothers fadden, and their eyes o'erflow.
Hermione, with love and rage poffeft,
Now fooths, now animates, each maiden breast.
Pyrrhus, triumphant o'er the Trojan walls,
Is greatly perjur'd, and as greatly falls.
Love, and Despair, and Furies are combin'd
In poor Oreftes, to distract his mind.
From firft to laft, alternate paffions reign;
And we refift the Poet's will in vain.
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