But let not this, dear CELIA, now To rage thy breast incline; For why, fince you forgot your vow, H THE CHOICE. AD I, PYGMALION like, the pow'r To make the Nymph I wou'd adore ; Her fkin fhou'd be as lilies fair, With rofy cheeks and jetty hair; Her lips with pure vermilion spread, And foft and moift, as well as red; Her eyes fhou'd fhine with vivid light, At once both languishing and bright; Her fhape fhou'd be exact and small, Her ftature rather low than tall; Her limbs well turn'd, her air and mien At once both sprightly and ferene; Shou'd be diffus'd all o'er her face; This for her form: now for her mind; I'd have it open, gen'rous, kind, Void of all coquettish arts, And vain defigns of conquering hearts, Not fway'd by any views of gain, Nor fond of giving others pain; But soft, tho' bright, like her own eyes, I'd have her fkill'd in ev'ry art That can engage a wand'ring heart; Know all the fciences of love, Yet ever willing to improve; To prefs the hand, and roll the eye, Το I'd have her to ftrict honour ty'd, And there, beneath fome filent grove, Some fparks of the poetic fire What joys from love and virtue flow; Enough, at least, to make her wife, Prefer her books, and her own mufe, To vifits, fcandal, chat, and news; And make her more than woman-kind. Το YOUNG LADY, GOING TO THE WEST INDIES. OR univerfal fway defign'd FOR To diftant realms CLORINDA flies, And fcorns, in one fmall ifle confin'd, To bound the conquefts of her eyes. From our cold climes to INDIA's shore And rob us of our only day. Whilft ev'ry ftreaming eye o'erflows With tender floods of parting tears, Thy breast, dear cause of all our woes, Alone unmov'd, and gay appears. But ftill, if right the muses tell, The fated point of time is nigh, When grief fhall that fair bofom fwell, Tho' now, like PHILIP's fon, whose arms You rove with unrefifted charms, And conquer both by fea and land; Yet when (as foon they muft) mankind Shall all be doom'd to wear your chain, You too, like him, will weep to find No more unconquer'd worlds remain. |