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At Jove's command, and Hermes' call,
The train appear'd to fill the hall,
And gods and goddesses were drest,
To do them honor in their best.
The little rogues now pass'd the row,

And look'd and mov'd I don't know how,
And, ambling hand in hand, appear

Before the mighty Thunderer.

Low at his throne they bent the knee :
He smil'd the blushing pair to see,

Lay'd his tremendous bolt aside,

And strok'd their cheeks, and kiss'd the bride.

Says Juno, since our Jove's so kind,
My dear, some present I must find.
In greatest pleasures, greatest dangers,
We and the sex were never strangers}
With bounteous hand my gifts I spread,
Presiding o'er the marriage-bed.
Soon, for the months are on the wing,
To you a daughter fair I bring,

And know, from this your nuptial morn
Shall Pleasure, smiling babe, be born.
But for the babe we must prepare ;
That too shall be your Juno's care.
Apollo from his golden lyre
Shall first assist us with the wire;
Vulcan shall make the silver pin;
The basket thus we shall begin,

Where we may put the child's array,

And get it ready by the day.

The nymphs themselves with flowers shall dress

it,

Pallas shall weave, and I will bless it.

EPISTLE LV.

ΤΟ

A LADY,

WITH A PAIR OF GLOVES

ON

VALENTINE'S DAY.

FROM

VILLIERS,

DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.

BRIMFUL of anger, not of love,
The champion sends his foe one glove;
But I, who have a double share
Of softer passion, send a pair.
Nor think it, dearest Celia, cruel,
That I invite you to a duel :
Ready to meet you face to face,

At any time, in any place:

Nor will I leave you in the lurch,

Tho' You should dare to name the church;

There come equipp'd with all your charms,

The ring and licence are my arms;
With these I mean your power to try,

And meet my charmer, though I die.

то

A LADY,

WITH A

BOUGH OF AN ORANGE TREE.

BY

WILLIAM HARRISON, ESQ;

FROM a warm clime and generous soil
This plant remov'd deludes our toil,
Disdains what baffled art has done,
And drooping mourns the distant sun.
Yet, Mira, near thy bosom plac'd,
It shall new life, new pleasure taste;
Sweets, more than nature gave, dispense,
Nor lend thee charms, but borrow thence.

See the young fruit thy power confess, And love their own Bermudas less; Though all that we think bright and fair, Though Paradise itself be there.

Ripen'd by thy auspicious eyes,
And eager to bestow the prize,
For which thy matchless beauties call,
Each kindles to a golden ball;

Love's smiling Queen, whose tender aid
Protects the Myrtle's fragrant shade,
Fore-knowing what thy charms would be,
Left to thy choice this fairer tree.

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