The raving Virgin, and her fatal Page,
Her more than mortal Sounds, and facred Rage;
And that fad Vale, unvifited by Day,
Where bury'd in eternal Night * Cimmerians lay.
But thee, § Panfilypus, he gently blames,
And sweetly mourns thy inauspicious Flames,
Concern'd for lovely Nefis, ah too late!
Oh ftay, rash Man! Why doft thou urge her Fate
She, wretched Maid, thy loath'd Embrace to fhun,
Does to steep Rocks and Waves less cruel run:
Not the dire Profpect can retard her Flight,
Or gaping Monsters from beneath affright.
Oh ftay! and reach no more with greedy Hands,
See! to a Rock transform'd thy Nefis ftands.
She, who fo fwift, with the first Dawn of Day
Rang'd o'er the Woods, and chas'd the flying Prey:
See! her wing'd Feet their wonted speed refuse,
And her stiff Joints their nimble Motion lose.
Oh Panope, and all the Nymphs below,
To fo much Beauty juft Compaffion show!
If Pity can affect your happy State,
O vifit Nefis, and lament her Fate !
He fung how once the beauteous ‡ Syren fway'd,
And mighty Kingdoms the fair Nymph obey'd;
Defcribes the lofty Tomb, which all adore:
Then tells, how loofing from their Native Shore,
By all the Gods conducted, and their Fate,
Eubeans founded that aufpicious State.
Then fung the rifing Walls and Tow'rs, whofe height
Is loft in Clouds, and tires the fainting fight.
What mighty Piles from the capacious Bay,
And hidden Pipes th' obedient Springs convey:
And that proud Pharos, whofe aufpicious Light
Informs glad Sailers, and directs their Sight.
Sibyl. Plac'd by fome near Naples. Paufilypus and Nefis are the Names of two Promontories near Naples. Parthenope. || A Colony of Eubaans from Chalcis, built Cume and Naples,
And how beneath the gentle Sarno flows,
In Verse as smooth as that, and high as those.
He told, and fweetly rais'd his Voice divine,
How * Melifans, lov'd by all the Nine,
Immortal Virgil faw; the God-like Shade
Bequeath'd that Pipe, which fo divinely play'd..
Lycoris flying from her Lovers Arms,
And Daphne's Fate, and young Alexis Charms.
Led by the Muse †, he mounts the starry Skies,
And all the fhining Orbs above defcries.
Why fhou'd I fpeak of Syrens, or relate
Their treach'rous Songs, and the pleas'd Sailer's Fate ?
Or, how in mournful Strains he did recount
The dire Eruptions of the burning || Mount,
When with fwift Ruin, and a dreadful Sound,
Vaft Floods of liquid Fire o'erwhelm'd the Country
round.
Laft Battles, and their various Chance, he fings
The great Events of War, and Fate of Kings;
And thee, whom Italy bewails, the best,
By Fortune's Rage, and angry Gods oppreft,
Stript of thy Kingdoms, and compell'd to fly,
And on uncertain Hope and Gallick Faith relye.
Oh Treachery of human Pow'r! forlorn,
And last by Heath condemn'd to a precarious Urn.
How vain is Man! and in what depth of Night
The dark Decrees of Fate are hid from mortal fight!
Cou'dft thou, who potent Kingdoms didft command,
Not find a Tomb but in a foreign Land!
Yet mourn not, happy Shade, thy cruel Fate;
The lofs is light of that superfluous State.
Nature provides for all a common Grave,
The laft Retreat of the diftrefs'd and brave.
* Pontanus a Neopolitan Poet. His Poem call'd
Urania. Vefuvius.
See Guicciardine.
Frederick King of Naples..
From the first Ages and Heroick Times,
Deduc'd in order his myfterious Rhimes.
Charm'd by his Song, the Billows ceas'd to roar,
And loud Applaufes rung along the Shoar:
"Till the pale Moon advanc'd her beauteous Head,
And all the Gods funk to their watry Bed.
A S O N G.
By Sir George Etheridge.
E happy Swains, whose Hearts are free
From Love's Imperial Chain,
Take warning and be taught by me,
T' avoid th' inchanting Pain.
Fatal the Wolves to trembling Flocks,
Fierce Winds to Bloffoms prove,
To careless Seamen hidden Rocks,
To human Quiet Love.
Fly the fair Sex, if Bliss you prize,
The Snake's beneath the Flow'r;
Who ever gaz'd on beauteous Eyes,
That tafted Quiet more?
How faithlefs is the Lover's Joy!
How conftant is their Care!
The Kind with Falfhood do destroy,
The Cruel with Despair.
N Chloris all foft Charms agree,
Beauty from Affectation free,
And for eternal Empire fit.
Where-e'er she goes, Love waits her Eyes,
The Women envy, Men adore;
But did fhe lefs the Triumph prize,
She would deferve the Conqueft more.
The Pomp of Love fo much prevails,
She begs, what none else wou'd deny her, Makes fuch Advances with her Eyes,
The Hope the gives prevents Defire;
Catches at ev'ry trifling Heart,
Seems warm with ev'ry glimm'ring Flame,
The common Prey fo deads the Dart,
It fcarce can pierce a noble Game.
I cou'd lye Ages at her Feet,
Adore her, careless of my Pain, With tender Vows her Rigours meer,
Defpair, Love on, and not complain. My Paffion, from all change fecure,
No Favours raife, no Frown controuls, I any Torment can endure,
But hoping with a Crowd of Fools.
SAP PHO's ODE from Longinus.
By Mr. W. BoWLES.
HE Gods are not more bleft than he,
Two foxing his glad Eyes on thee;
With thy bright Rays his Senfes chears,
And drinks with ever thirsty Ears.
The charming Mufick of thy Tongue,
Does ever hear, and ever long;
That fees with more than human Grace,
Sweet Smiles adorn thy Angel Face.
as
But when with kinder Beams you fhine,
And fo appear much more Divine,
My feeble Senfe and dazl❜d Sight
No more fupport the glorious Light,
And the fierce Torrent of Delight.
Oh! then I feel my Life decay,
My ravish'd Soul then flies away,
Then Faintness does my Limbs surprise,
And Darkness swims before my Eyes.
Then my Tongue fails, and from my Brow
The liquid Drops in filence flow,
Then wand'ring Fires run through my Blood,
And Cold binds up the ftupid Flood;
All pale and breathless then I lye,
I figh, I tremble, and I die.
The Thirteenth ODE of the Fourth Book of HORACE,
LICE, the Gods have heard my Pray't,
Lyce the Proud, the Charming, and the Fair, Lyce is old! tho' wanton ftill, and gay,
You laugh, and fing, and play.
Now Beauty fails, with Wine you'd raise Defire, And with your trembling Vaice wou'd fan our dying
In vain! for Love long fince forfook [Look; Thy fnowy Hair, thy falling Teeth, and with'ring. He Chia's blooming Face
Adorns with ev'ry Grace,
Her Wit, her Eyes, her ev'ry Glance are Darts,
That with refiftlefs force invade our Hearts.
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