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But now 'tis done, O let me know
HChoice of their Deities
, this facred Shade
made Choice of their Deities, this sacred shade Had held an altar to her pow'r, that gave The peace, and glory, which these alleys have : Embroider'd so with flowers where she stood, That it became a garden of a wood. Her presence has such more than human grace, That it can civilize the rudest place : And beauty too, and order can impart, Where nature ne'er intended it, nor art. The plants acknowledge this, and her admire, No less than those of old did ORPHE U s' lyre: If she fit down, with tops all tow'rds her bow'd, They round about her into arbors crowd: Or if she walk, in even ranks they stand, Like some well-marshal'd and obsequious band. AMPHI 0 N so made ftones and timber leap Into fair figures, from a confus'd heap : And in the symmetry' of her parts is found A pow'r, like that of harmony in found.
Ye lofty beeches, tell this matchless dame, That if together ye fed all one flame,,
It could not equalize the hundredth part,
To my Lord of LEICESTE R.
OT that thy trees at P EN S-H U R S T groan,
Oppressed with their timely load ;
That their great Lord is now abroad:
Not that thy harmless deer repine,
And think themselves unjustly flain By any other hand than thine,
Whose arrows they would gladly stain : No, nor thy friends, which hold too dear That peace with FRANCE, which keeps thee there.
All these are less than that great cause,
Which now exacts your prefence here; Wherein there meet the divers laws
Of public, and domestic, care.
For one bright Nymph our youth contends,
Not the bright shield of * Theris' son,
(For which such stern debate did rise, That the great AJAX TÉ LAMON
Refus'd to live without the Prize) Those ACHIVE Peers did more engage, Than the the gallants of our age.
That beam of beauty, which begun
To warm us so, when thou wert here, Now scorches like the raging fun,
When Sirius does first appear. O fix this flame; and let despair Redeem the rest from endless care!
Of the LADY who can sleep when she pleases.
O wonder SLEEP from careful lovers flies,
To bathe himself in SACHARI S SA's eyes. As fair AstÆa once from earth to heav'n, By strife, and loud impiety, was driv'n: So with our plaints offended, and our tears, Wife Somnu's to that paradise repairs ; Waits on her will, and wretches does forsake, To court the Nymph, for whom those wretches wake; More proud than PHOE BU S of his throne of gold Is the soft God, those fofter limbs to hold : Nor would exchange with Jove, to hide the skies In dark’ning clouds, the pow'r to close her eyes: Achilles.
Eyes, which so far all other lights controul,
Let her free spirit, whose unconquer'd breast
Of the Mif-report of ber being Painted.
S when a sort of wolves infeft the night,
With their wild howlings at fair Cynthia's light; The noise
chase sweet slumber from our eyes, But never reach the mistress of the skies: So, with the news of SACHARI S sa's wrongs, Her vexed servants blame those envious tongues : Call Love to witness, that no painted fire Can scorch men so, or kindle fuch defire : While, unconcerned, she seems mov'd no more With this new malice, than our loves before; But, from the height of her great mind, looks down On both our passions, without smile or frown. So little care of what is done below Hath the bright dame, whom heav'n affecteth so! Paints her, 'tis true, with the same hand which spreads Like glorious colors thro' the flow'ry meads ; When lavish nature with her best attire Cloaths the gay spring, the season of desire: Paints her, 'tis true, and does her cheek adorn, With the same art wherewith the paints the morn:
With the same art, wherewith the gildeth so
Of ber pasing through a Crowd of People.