So fares it too with plays': in vain we write,

Unless the mufic and the dance invite;

Scarce Hamlet clears the charges of the night.
Would you but fix fome ftandard how to move, 10
We would transform to any thing you love:
Judge our defire by our coft and pains;

Sure the expence, uncertain are the gains.
But tho' we fetch from Italy and France
Our fopperies of tune, and mode of dance,
Our sturdy Britons scorn to borrow fenfe...
Howe'er to foreign fashions we submit,
Still ev'ry fop prefers his mother-wit.
In only wit this conftancy is shown, !

For never was that errant changeling known 20
Who for another's fenfe would quit his own.
Our author would excufe thefe youthful scenes,
Begotten at his entrance in his te
teens:

Some childish fancies may approve the toy,
Some like the Mufe the more for being a boy;
And ladies should be pleas'd, if not content,
To find so`young a thing not wholly impotent,
Our age-reformers, too, he would difarm,
In charity fo cold, in zeal fo warm!
And therefore, to atone for ftage-abufes,

25

30

And gain the church-indulgence for the Mufes,
He gives his thirds-to charitable ùfes.

32

IMITATIONS, &c.

THE ENCHANTMENT.

In imitation of the Pharmaceutria of Theocritus.." Mix, mix the philtres-Quick-she flies, she flies, Deaf to my call, regardless of my cries.

5

Are vows fo vain? could oaths fo feeble prove?
Ah! with what eafe fhe breaks thofe chains of love!
Who Love with all his force had bound in vain,
Let charms compel, and magic rites regain..
Begin, begin, the myftic spells prepare;
Bring Mira back, my perjur'd wanderer..

Queen of the Night, bright empress of the ftars,
The friend of Love! affift a lover's cares:
And thou; infernal Hecate! be nigh,

At whofe approach fierce wolves affrighted fly,
Dark tombs difclofe their dead, and hollow cries
Echo from under ground, Arife, arise.
Begin, begin, the myftic fpells prepare;
Bring Mira back, my perjur'd wanderer.

As crackling in the fire this laurel lies,.
So ftruggling in love's flame her lover dies:

Mij

ΙΟ

15

It bursts, and in a blaze of light expires;
So may the burn, but with more lafting fires.
Begin, begin, the mystic spells prepare;
Bring Mira back, my perjur'd wanderer.

20

As the wax melts which to the flame I hold,
So may the melt, and never more grow cold.
Tough iron will yield, and stubborn marble run, 25
And hardeft hearts by love are melted down.
Begin, begin, the myftic fpells prepare;
Bring Mira back, my perjur'd wanderer.

As with impetuous motion whirling round

This magic wheel fill moves, yet keeps its ground,
Ever returning; fo may fhe come back,

And never more th' appointed round forfake.
Begin, begin, the myftic fpells prepare;
Bring Mira back, my perjur'd wanderer.

31

Diana! hail; all hail; moft welcome thou,
To whom th' infernal king and judges bow:

35

O thou! whofe art the pow'r of hell difarms,

Upon a faithlefs woman try thy charms.
Hark! the dogs howl. She comes, the goddefs comes:
Sound the loud trump, and beat our brazen drums.

Begin, begin, the myftic fpells prepare;

Bring Mira back, my perjur'd wanderer.

41

How calm's the sky! how undisturb'd the deep!
Nature is hush'd, the very tempefts fleep;

The drowsy winds breathe gently thro' the trees, 45
And filent on the beach repose the feas:
Love only wakes: the ftorm that tears my breast
For ever rages, and diftracts my rest.

O Love! relentless Love! tyrant accurs'd!
In deferts bred, by cruel tigers nurs'd.
Begin, begin, the mystic spells prepare ;
Bring Mira back, my perjur'd wanderer.

50

55

This riband that once bound her lovely waist,
O that my arms might gird her there as fast!
Smiling fhe gave it, and I priz'd it more
Than the rich zone th' Idalian goddess wore:
This riband, this lov'd relic of the fair,
So kifs'd, and fo preferv'd-thus-thus I tear.
O Love! why dost thou thus delight to rend
My foul with pain? ah! why torment thy friend? 60
Begin, begin, the mystic spells prepare;

Bring Mira back, my perjur'd wanderer.

Thrice have I facrific'd, and, proftrate, thrice.

Ador'd: affift, ye Pow'rs! the facrifice.

Whoe'er he is whom now the fair beguiles
With guilty glances and with perjur'd fmiles,
Malignant vapours blaft his impious head,

65

Ye lightnings fcorch him, thunder ftrike him dead,

Horror of confcience all his flumbers break,
Distract his reft, as love keeps me awake;
If marry'd, may his wife a Helen be,
And curs'd and scorn'd like Menelaus he!
Begin, begin, the myftic fpells prepare;
Bring Mira back, my perjur'd wanderer.

70

These pow'rful drops thrice on the threshold pour,
And bathe with this enchanted juice her door; 76
That door where no admittance now is found,
But where my foul is ever hov'ring round.

Hafte and obey; and binding be the spell.

Here ends my charm; O Love! fucceed it well: 80
By force of magic stop the flying fair,
Bring Mira back, my perjur'd wanderer.

Thou 'rt now alone, and painful is restraint;
Eafe thy prefs'd heart, and give thy forrows vent;
Whence fprang, and how began, these griefs declare,
How much thy-love, how cruel thy despair. 86
Ye Moon and Stars! by whofe aufpicious light
I haunt these groves, and waste the tedious night,
Tell, for you know the burthen of my heart,
Its killing anguish, and its fecret smart.

Too late for hope, for my repose too foon,

I faw, and lov'd; her heart, engag'd, was gone: