The Story of PHOEBUS and DAPHNE applied.

T

HYRSIS, a youth of the inspired train,
Fair Sachariffa lov'd, but lov'd in vain:
Like Phoebus fung the no less amorous boy;
Like Daphne fhe, as lovely, and as coy!
With Numbers he the flying Nymph pursues;
With Numbers fuch as Phoebus' self might use!
Such is the chace, when love and fancy leads,
O'er craggy mountains, and through flowery meads;
Invok'd to testify the lover's care,

Or form fome image of his cruel Fair.
Urg'd with his fury, like a wounded deer,
O'er thefe he fled; and now approaching near,
Had reach'd the Nymph with his harmonious Lay,
Whom all his charms could not incline to stay.
Yet, what he fung in his immortal strain,
Though unfuccefsful, was not sung in vain :
All, but the Nymph that should redress his wrong,
Attend his paffion, and approve his fong.
Like Phoebus thus, acquiring unfought praise,
He catch'd at love, and fill'd his arms with bays.

FABULA PHOEBI ET DAPHNES.
RCADIÆ juvenis Thyrfis, Phœbique facerdos,

Haud Deus ipfe olim Daphni majora canebat;
Nec fuit afperior Daphne, nec pulchrior illâ :
Carminibus Phoebo dignis premit ille fugacem
Per rupes, per faxa, volans per florida vates

Pafcua:

Pafcua: formofam nunc his componere Nympham,
Nunc illis crudelem infanâ mente folebat.

Audîît illa procul miferum, cytharamque fonantem;
Audîît, at nullis refpexit mota querelis!
Ne tamen omnino caneret defertus, ad alta
Sidera perculfi referunt nova carmina montes.
Sic, non quæfitis cumulatus laudibus, olim
Elapsâ reperit Daphne fua laurea Phoebus..

SON G.

SAY, lovely Dream! where couldft thou find

Shades to counterfeit that face?

Colors of this glorious kind

Come not from any mortal place.

In heaven itself thou fure wert drest
With that angel-like difguife:
Thus deluded am I bleft,

And fee my joy with closed eyes.

But ah! this image is too kind

To be other than a dream:

Cruel Sachariffa's mind

Never put on that sweet extreme!

Fair Dream! if thou intend'ft me grace,
Change that heavenly face of thine;

Paint defpis'd love in thy face,
And make it to appear like mine.

Pale, wan, and meagre let it look,
With a pity-moving shape;

Such as wander by the brook

Of Lethe, or from graves efcape.

Then to that matchlefs Nymph appear,
In whose shape thou shinest so ;
Softly in her fleeping ear,

With humble words exprefs my woe.

Perhaps from greatnefs, ftate, and pride,
Thus furprised she may fall:

Sleep does difproportion hide,

And, death resembling, equals all.

TO MRS. BRAUGHTON,
Servant to SACHARISSA.

FAL

AIR fellow-fervant! may your gentle ear
Prove more propitious to my flighted care,
Than the bright dame's we ferve: for her relief
(Vex'd with the long expreffions of my grief)
Receive these plaints: nor will her high disdain
Forbid my humble Mufe to court her train.

So, in those nations which the fun adore,
Some modeft Perfian, or fome weak-eyed Moor,
No higher dares advance his dazzled fight,
Than to fome gilded cloud, which near the light
Of their afcending God adorns the east,
And, graced with his beams, out-fhines the rest.

Thy

Thy skilful hand contributes to our woe,
And whets those arrows which confound us fo
A thousand Cupids in those curls do fit,
(Those curious nets!) thy flender fingers knit:
The Graces put not more exactly on

Th' attire of Venus, when the Ball she won :
Than Sachariffa by thy care is drest,

When all our youth prefers her to the rest.

You the foft season know, when beft her mind
May be to pity or to love inclin'd:

In fome well-chofen hour supply his fear,
Whofe hopeless love durft never tempt the ear
Of that stern Goddefs: you, her priest, declare
What offerings may propitiate the Fair:
Rich orient pearl, bright stones that ne'er decay,
Or polish'd lines which longer last than they.
For if I thought she took delight in those,
To where the chearful morn does firft difclofe
(The fhady night removing with her beams)
Wing'd with bold love, I'd fly to fetch fuch gems.
But fince her eyes, her teeth, her lip excels
All that is found in mines, or fishes' fhells;
Her nobler part as far exceeding thefe,
None but immortal gifts her mind fhould pleafe.
The fhining jewels Greece and Troy bestow'd
On * Sparta's Queen, her lovely neck did load,
And fnowy wrists: but when the town was burn'd,
Thofe fading glories were to afhes turn'd:

* Helen.

Her

Her beauty too had perish'd, and her fame,

Had not the Mufe redeem'd them from the flame.

AT PENS-HURS T.

WHILE in the park I fing, the liftening deer

Attend my paffion, and forget to fear:

When to the beeches I report my flame,

They bow their heads, as if they felt the same :
To Gods appealing, when I reach their Bowers
With loud complaints, they answer me in showers.
To Thee a wild and cruel foul is given,

More deaf than trees, and prouder than the heaven!
Love's foe profefs'd! why doft thou falfly feign
Thyself a Sidney? from which noble strain
* He fprung, that could fo far exalt the name
Of Love, and warm our nation with his flame
That all we can of love or high defire,
Seems but the fmoke of amorous Sidney's fire.
Nor call her mother, who fo well does prove
One breast may hold both chastity and love.
Never can she, that so exceeds the spring
In joy and bounty, be fuppos'd to bring
One fo deftructive: to no human stock
We owe this fierce unkindness; but the rock
That cloven rock produc'd thee, by whofe fide
Nature, to recompence the fatal pride

Of such stern beauty, plac'd those † healing springs;

Which not more help, than that deftruction brings.

Sir Philip Sidney.

Tunbridge-Wells.

Thy