A narrow compass! and yet there
Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair;
Give me but what this riband bound,
Take all the reft the fun goes round.
SEE! how the willing earth gave way,
To take th' impreffion where the lay.
See! how the mould, as loath to leave
Twas such a chance as this made all
The world into this order fall;
Thus the first lovers, on the clay,
Of which they were compofed, lay.
So in their prime, with equal grace,
Met the first patterns of our race.
Then blush not, Fair! or on him frown, Or wonder how you both came down ;
So ev'ry paffion, but fond love,
Unto its own redrefs does move;
But that alone the wretch inclines
To what prevents his own defigns;
Makes him lament, and figh, and weep,
Disorder'd, tremble, fawn, and creep;
Poftures which render him defpis'd,
Where he endeavours to be priz'd.
For women, (born to be controll'd)
Stoop to the forward and the bold;
Affect the haughty and the proud,
The gay, the frolick, and the loud.
Who firft the gen'rous steed oppreft,
Not kneeling did falute the beaft;
But with high courage, life, and force,
Approaching, tam'd th' unruly horse.
Unwifely we the wifer East
Pity, fuppofing them opprest
With tyrants' force, whofe law is will,
By which they govern, spoil, and kill :
Each nymph, but moderately fair,
Commands with no lefs rigour here.
Should fome brave Turk, that walks among
His twenty laffes, bright and young,
And beckons to the willing dame,
Preferr❜d to quench his present flame,
Behold as many gallants here,
With modeft guife and filent fear,
All to one female idol bend,
While her high pride does scarce defcend
To mark their follies, he would fwear
That these her guard of eunuchs were,
And that a more majestick queen,
Or humbler flaves, he had not feen.
All this with indignation spoke,
In vain I struggled with the yoke
Of mighty Love: that conqu'ring look,
When next beheld, like lightning ftrook
My blafted foul, and made me bow
Lower than those I pity'd now.
So the tall ftag, upon the brink
Of some smooth stream about to drink,
Surveying there his armed head,
With fhame remembers that he fled
The scorned dogs, refolves to try
The combat next; but if their cry
Invades again his trembling ear,
He ftrait refumes his wonted care,
Leaves the untafted fpring behind,
And, wing'd with fear, outflies the wind.
FOR DRINKING OF HEALTHS.
LET brutes and vegetals, that cannot think,
So far as drought and nature urges, drink;
A more indulgent mistress guides our sp'rits,
Reason, that dares beyond our appetites:
She would our care as well as thirst redress,
And with divinity rewards excefs.
Deferted Ariadne, thus supply'd,
Did perjur'd Thefeus' cruelty deride:
Bacchus embrac'd, from her exalted thought
Banish'd the man, her paffion, and his fault.
Bacchus and Phoebus are by Jove ally'd,
And each by other's timely heat supply'd:
All that the grapes owe to his rip'ning fires
Is paid in numbers which their juice infpires.
Wine fills the veins, and healths are understood
To give our friends a title to our blood:
Who, naming me, doth warm his courage so,
Shews for my fake what his bold hand would do. 18
PLAYING ON THE LUTE.
Suen moving founds from fuch a careless touch!
So unconcern'd herself, and we fo much!
What art is this, that with so little pains
Tranfports us thus, and o'er cur fpirits reigns?
The trembling frings about her fingers crowd,
And tell their joy for ev'ry kiss alond.
Small force there needs to make them tremble fo;
Touch'd by that hand, who would not tremble too?
Here Love takes stand, and while the charms the ear,
Empties his quiver on the list'ning deer.
Mufick so softens and difarms the mind,
That not an arrow does refiftance find.
Thus the fair tyrant celebrates the prize,
And acts herself the triumph of her eyes:
So Nero once, with harp in hand, furvey'd
His flaming Rome, and as it burn'd he play'd. 16
BEHOLD, and liften, while the fair
Breaks in sweet founds the willing air,
And with her own breath fans the fire,
Which her bright eyes do first infpire.
What reafon can that love control,
Which more than one way courts the foul?
So when a flash of lightning falls
On our abodes, the danger calls
For human aid, which hopes the flame
To conquer, tho' from heav'n it came;
But if the winds with that confpire,
Men ftrive not, but deplore the fire.
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