However, by this Art we may difcern, That nothing is too hard for Man to learn; Unheard of Wonders human Race might do, Conquer Herculean Labours daily new,
Had we but Courage to purfue with Pains
The vaft Conceptions of our teeming Brains.
A Fragment imitated, beginning, Candide fidereis, &c.
Ivine Cofmelia has two burning Eyes,
From which refulgent Beams and Glories
(rife. Her Neck with od'rous Sweets of Rofes flows; Her wanton Hair in golden Ringlets grows. Her fragrant Lips are charmingly o'erfpread, Like ke young Aurora's, with a purple Red.
In various Branches each meand'ring Vein, With azure Hills her lovely Bofom ftain. Beauty it felf, Youth fmiles, and ev'ry Grace, Pay all their Tribute to her heav'nly Face;
A dazzling Goddess's bright Form she bears;
Not ftronger Charms the Queen of Beauty wears.
Your filver Hands will coldest Bofoms warm,
And with a Touch the Old and Pious charm.
Your pretty Foot, defpifing common Floors,
On Carpets treads, or Genoa's Marble Stores.
Nor fhall th' ignoble Pavement of the Street
Hurt or prophane Cofmelia's facred Feet.
When you amongst the Beds of Lillies ftray,
Their Leaves drop down,as proud to ftrewyourway
Whilft, like Camilla, over them you pass,
Leaving no Print upon the Flowers or Grafs.
Let meaner Beauties with fuccefslefs Care
Purchase rich Pearls,and glitt'ringGems prepare
T'adorn their Necks,or grace their lovely Hair.
Cofmelia only can attract my Eyes,
Rich in herself, when ftript of Vanities.
Not Flattery, nor yet poetick Fire,
Can do her Justice, or enough admire.
The Muses and the Syrens ceafe their Song, Pleas'd with theMufick of your charming Tongue. From which increafing Sweets do ever flow,
my poor panting Soul you ravish fo,
humble Slave you cruel prove,
That to your
And dart at him a thousand Shafts of Love;
A raging Flame feeds on my wounded Heart,
No Herbs can cure me, nor the Surgeon's Art.
One Kifs from you will all my Cares remove,
And make me fmile like the young God of Love.
This healing Med'cine can my Grief controul,
And cure the wild Disorders of my Soul.
Let not your Face fuch killing Fairness wear;
Ah! do not thus my Nerves in Pieces tear:
Nor let my Tomb, when I am dead, complain,
That I was by my Dear's Unkindness slain.
But if you think this Boon too great to grant
To me your Slave, and humble Supplicant ;
Yet grant me this, that when I breathless lie,
Kill'd with the murd'ring Ligh'ning of your Eye,
In mournful Arms you would the Dead embrace;
I'll foon revive, touch'd by that lovely Face.
A Fragment of Petronius, paraphras'd by another Hand, beginning, Naufragius ejecta natus rate, &c.
Rom mutualWounds theWretched find Relief,
And focial Woes calm or direct their Grief. The Merchant, ruin'd by the faithless Main, Seeks a known Partner of his Ship-wreck'd Pain, On whofe kind Breaft he may his Lofs bemoan, Inclin'd to pity Sorrows by its own.
When poys'nous Blights wings the infectious Air,
And noxious Winds beguile the Tiller's Care,
Reluctant Furrows twice the Corn entomb,
And faded Poppies lofe their purple Bloom 3
In barren Fields no teeming Seeds appear,
Loft are the hopeful Bloffoms of the Year.
To fome low Vale the frighted Farmers fly,
And mourn the Ruins of the angry Sky.
Their various Wrongs the fad Convention fhow,
And in the publick lofe their private Woe.
Funerals the Sad in mutual Friendship bind,
And childlefs Parents Confolation find';
Each of the others Pain affumes a Part,
Divides his Sorrows, but unites his Heart.
Inftructions to the Roman Youth, beginning, Artis feverafiquis amat affectus, &c.
Hoe'er would with ambitious juft Defire,
To Maft'ry in fo fine an Art afpire,
Muft all Extreams first diligently fhun,
And in a fettled Courfe of Vertue run.
Let him not Fortune with stiff Greatness climb,
Nor, Courtier-like, with Cringes undermine,
Nor all the Brother Blockheads of the Pot
Ever perfwade him to become a Sot;
Nor flatter Poets, to acquire the Fame
Of, I proteft, a pretty Gentleman.
But whether in the War he would be great,
Or in the gentler Arts that rule a State;
Or elfe his am'rous Breaft he would improve
Well to receive the youthful Cares of Love,
In his first Years to Poetry inclin❜d,
Let Homer's Spring bedew his fruitful Mind;
His manlier Years to manlier Studies brought,
Philofophy muft next employ his Thought.
Then let his boundless Soul new Glories fire,
And to the great Demofthenes afpire,
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