Behold how lovely smooth the Forehead fhines,
How milky white the foft Defcent inclines,
How fully to the fparkling Eyes it joins!
While gaily pleafing they, and (weetly bright,
Fill each Beholder's Heart with dear Delight.
See on the blooming Cheeks, fo freshly spread,
So duly mixt, the native White and Red;
Mark what full Roses on the Lips appear,
What Sweets they breathe, what balmy Dew they wear!
But loft and endless were my Pain, to trace
The vaft Infinity of Beauty's Grace:
Why fhou'd the Mufe in lavish Numbers speak
The golden Treffes, or the Iv'ry Neck?
Why fhou'd the bafhful Nymph attempt to tell,
What foft round Globes on rifing Bofoms (well?
What fecret Charms Since Modesty denies,
And bars the bold Accefs of wanton Eyes ;
Blufhing, with decent Grace her Veil fhe draws, fr
And fhields the Fair from Shame by Cuftom's rev'rend
NOR do we lefs our manly Beauty boast,
Prov'd often to the Love-fick Virgin's Coffin low levell In either Sex, her Skill, Dame Nature fhows, qui ve ta And equally her faireft Gifts beftows.ruM adt (f) svell Mark when the Downy Plumes at firft begin
To promife carly Manhood on his Chin;
How goodly grac'd the rifing Youth is seen,
His Form how noble, and how great his Mien;
From vital Juices well and kindly mix’dj ynod 19559m e
The Constitution just and firmly fix'd jih cob 2 jam,
201 29. dolle met
No meagre Pale, upon his Vifage fpread,
Taints with unwholesome Hew the native Red;
But healthy Sanguine, of the Tyrian Dye,
Laughs in his Looks, while from his Front on high,
In large defcending Locks his Auborn Treffes fly.
Nor boaft his other Parts lefs Grace Divine,
Sweet Loveliness with comely Strength combine,
Each Limb on well-compacted Mufcles turns,
And juft Proportion the fair Whole adorns.
Such equal Tempers happy Gallia knows,
Such are the Forms our kinder Heav'n bestows.
Far from the Clime where fultry Suns arife,
Far from the wintry North's inclement Skies,
In the Mid-Space the Queen of Nations lies;
With fofteft Airs, with fweeteft is fhe bleft,
And gentle Heats brood on her balmy Breaft. robbi
IF then the Genial Arts thou feek to know, Attend to what the skilful Mufe can show,
Sweet are her facred Rules, and tunefully they flow. • Not every Man or Woman was defign'd
To propagate and multiply their Kind
Forbid we rightly the Deform'd and Foul,
To clothe with ill-fhap'd Limbs the heav'nly Soulī
Has not the Poet's Song divinely told
Of Births detefted in the days of old?
How dreadful Phlegeton did Night invade,:
Compreft the Beldam in her own dire Shade2rgenti
Hence fprung the Sifters (horrible to Sight!).t
Whofe hellish Heads with hifling Snakes affrighted
Who fhudders not at Pluto's odious Bed?
What Virgin would a One-ey'd Cyclops wed?
Were I to judge, no Vulcan e'er should prove
A horrid Husband to the Queen of Love,
Some fitter Task his barren Age should find,
In hamm❜ring Bolts for Jove to plague Mankind.
Doom'd to old Etna's Forge he should remain,
And drudge out dull immortal Years in vain.
BUT he who judges right of what is fair,
With healthy Sons will healthy Daughters pair:
As unperforming useless Drones, will drive
The Weak and Sickly from the Marriage-Hive;
Whether a Man, by frequent Vifits, feel
The gnawing Torments of the Gouty Ill;
Or fudden Epilepfies feize his Mind,
Or bilious Cholick rack his Breaft with Wind;
Or on his wafted Lungs an Ulcer prey,
Or a Confumption lingringly betray
His pining Life, and murder by Delay.
FOR, Man's new curious Syftem to compofe,
An equal Portion every Limb beftows,
From every Nerve collected Nature flows :
Whence by Traduction from the Father run
Ill Habitudes, intail'd upon the Son;
The latent Poifon in the Bowels grows,
And propagates a Family of Woes.
How oft do Men their ill-ftar'd Birth bewail,
Condemn'd to a diseaseful Body's Jail!
How oft with vain Complaints they load the Skies,
And guiltless Gods accufe with fruitless Cries!
When the true Cause of their repeated Blame,
From a distemper'd feeble Marriage came.
Let then a healthy Bridegroom and a Bride
Be in connubial Leagues of Love ally'd;
If they defire that future Times fhould know
To what a lovely Origin they owe
A Race of Men, for all that's generous born,
Or to defend their Country, or adorn
The prudent Farmers, who of Heaven implore
A plenteous Harvest, and increasing Store;
The fineft of their Wheat for Seed retain,
Nor fow their Acres with corrupted Grain.
Hence loaded Fields their annual Wealth unfold,
And fmiling Ceres waves in fheafy Gold.
Thus lab'ring Hinds, for a rich Crop of Corn,
Improve their Ground, while you neglect with Scorn
The grateful Soil, from whence Mankind is born:
Unwilling, or unmindful, to produce
From a hale Body, pure and generous Juice;
Which in clear Channels may unblended run,
From the bright Father to the brighter Son.
Is then the Price of Man no better known,
Or God, who form'd thy Image from his own?
Cannot that Soul which does with Art survey
The Stars, and travels o'er the Milky Way,
Erect thy Spirits, and refine thy Clay?
Does Sloth fupine in such strong Fetters bind
Your abject Sense, and make you lefs inclin'd
To found a beauteous Temple for th'thereal Mind?
Ye Gods, who to a human Birth repair,
And watch the Cradle with a Guardian's Care,
From Nuptial Banes exclude a weakly Pair ;
Left Execrations from their Childrens Throat,
Their wretched Parents to the Fiends devote.
And thou, Great Father of all human Race,
Whofe Hand preferves this Globe in strict Embrace,
No longer let the wicked Custom reign,
Nor the juft Beauty of thy Labour stain.
Let a new Genius from the Skies defcend
With better Nature, and Mankind befriend :
Who may this Theme with well-wrote Rules adorn,
And give Instruction to an Age unborn.
NOR is't enough that Marriages agree
In mutual Vigour, and from Sickness free;
If you defire an Offspring, you must learn
Another Leffon of the firft Concern.
The nuptial Knot fhou'd be with Equals ty'd,
No fanguine Bridegroom to a fapless Bride;
Nor fhould a bloomy Nymph entomb her Charms
In an old Husband's monumental Arms.
Hymen will fuch an ill-yok'd Couple, blame,
And Funo kindle an unhappy Flame:
Alecto, frowning on the lucklefs Pair,
Shakes her fulphureous Torch, and fnaky Hair.
See how young Chloe, keen with ftrong Defires,
From her old wither'd Spoufe with Scorn retires,
His frigid Kiffes fhuns, and languid Fires;
With frequent Tears bedews her Face, and quits
Her idle Drudge, and the detefted Sheets.
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