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Love only from thy Heart exacts

The feveral Debts thy Face contracts,
And by that new and jufter way,
Secures thy Empire and his fway;
Fav'ring but one he might compel

The hopeless Lover to rebel.

But fhou'd he other Hearts thus fhare, That in the whole fo worthless are,

Shou'd into feveral Squadrons draw

That ftrength, which kept entire cou'd awe Men would his scatter'd Powers deride,

And conqu'ring Him thofe fpoils divide.

To Mr. J. N. on his Tranflations out of

WH

French and Italian.

By the fame Author.

Hile others Toil, our Country to supply With what we need only for Luxury, Spices, and Silk, in the rich Eaft provide, To glut our Avarice, and feed our Pride. You Foreign Learning profperoufly tranfmit, To raise our Virtue, and provoke our Wit. Such brave Designs your Gen'rous Soul inflame To be a bold Adventurer for Fame;

How much oblig'd are Italy and France,

While with your Voice their Musick you advance?

Your growing Fame with Envy can oppose, Who fing with no lefs Art than they Compofe ;

In these Attempts, fo few have had fucccess,
Their Beauties fuffer in our English Dress:
By Artless Hands, fpoil'd of their Native Ayr,
They feldom pafs from moderately fair:

As if you meant thefe Injuries to Atone,
You give them Charms more Conquʼring than
their own.

Not like the dull laborious Flatterer,

With fecret Art those Graces you

confer.

The skilful Painters, with flight stroaks impart, That fubtil Beauty which affects the Heart. There are, who publickly profefs they hate Tranflations, and yet all they Write, Translate: So proud, they scorn to drive a Lawful Trade, Yet by their Wants, are shameless Pirates made: These you incense, while you their Thefts reveal, Or elfe prevent in what they meant to steal From all befides; you are fecure of praise, But you fo high our Expectation raise,

A gen'ral Discontent we shall declare,

If fuch a Workman only should repair.
You to the Dead, your Piety have fhewn,
Adorn'd their Monuments, now build your own:
Drawn in the Eaft, we in your Lines may trace
That Genius which of old infpir'd the place:
The banish'd Mufes back to Greece you bring,
Where their beft Airs you
fo Divinely fing;

The World must own they are by you reftor'd

To facred fhades, where they were first Ador'd,

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Voiture's Urania.

By the fame Author.

Opelefs I languifh out my Days,

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Struck with Urania's Conquʼring Eyes :

The Wretch at whom she darts these rays, Muft feel the Wound untill he dies.

Though endless be her Cruelty,

Calling her Beauties to my Mind,
I bow beneath her Tyranny,

And dare not murmur she's unkind.

Reason this tameness does upbraid,

Proffring to arm in my defence;
But when I call her to my aid,

She's more a Traytor than my fenfe.

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