University of Virginia Library

The Character.

I.

Such Charms of Youth, such Ravishment,
Thro' all her Form appear'd,
As if in her Creation Nature meant
She should alone be lov'd and fear'd.
A chearful Modesty adorn'd her Face,
And bashful Blushes spread her smiling Cheeks;
Charming her Air, soft ev'ry Grace,
And 'tis eternal Musick when she speaks.

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Attentive Cupids her soft Accents take;
And when they would a perfect Conquest make,
Teach their young fav'rite Lovers so to speak.

II.

Her Neck, on which all careless fell her Hair,
Her half-discover'd rising Bosom bear,
Were beyond Nature form'd, all sweetly fair.
Tempting her Dress, loose with the Winds it flew,
Discov'ring thousand Charms which singly might subdue.
Her soft white slender Hands, whose Touches wou'd
Beget Desire in an awful God,
Long winter'd Age to Tenderness might move,
And in its frozen Blood bloom a new Spring of Love.
All these at once my ravish'd Senses charm'd,
And with unusual Fires my Bosom warm'd;
Whilst my fix'd Eyes pursu'd the charming Maid,
Till they had lost her in the envy'd Glade:
Yet still I gaz'd, as if I still had view'd
The Object which my new Desires pursu'd.
Mad with Delight, my Fate resolv'd to try;
Strait to the wish'd for Shore with Speed we fly,
Vain with my Hopes, and eager of my Joy.
But as upon the Beach we landed were,
An awful Form opposing did appear;
Goddess of Prudence, who, with grave Advice,
Counsels the heedless Stranger to be wise:
The guards the Shore, and Passage does forbid,
But blinding Sense from me her Face had hid.

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I pass'd, and disobey'd the heav'nly Voice,
Which few e'er do, but in this fatal Place.
Now with impatient Haste, but long in vain,
I seek the charming Author of my Pain,
And traverse ev'ry Grove, and ev'ry Plain.
I ask each chrystal Spring, each murm'ring Brook,
Who saw my Fair, or knows which Way she took?
I ask the Echo's when they heard her Name?
But they could nothing but my Moan proclaim.
At last, where all was Shade, and all was gay,
On a Brook's Brink, which purling pass'd away,
Asleep the lovely Maid extended lay.
Of diff'ring Flow'rs the Cupids made her Bed,
And on soft rosy Pillows rais'd her Head.
With what transported Joy my Soul was fill'd,
When I the Object of my Wish beheld!
My greedy Eyes each lovely Part survey'd,
On her white Hand her blushing Cheek was laid;
Half hid in Roses, yet did so appear,
As if among them Lillies mingled were.
Her thin loose Robe her Beauty all reveal'd,
But what young bashful Maids would have conceal'd.
Impatient I, more apt to hope than fear,
Approach'd the heav'nly sleeping Maid more near;
The Place, my Flame, and all her Charms invite,
To taste the sacred Joys of stoll'n Delight;
The Grove was silent, and no Creature by,
But the young smiling God of Love and I.

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But as before the awful Shrine I kneel'd,
Where Love's great Mystery was to be reveal'd,
A Man from out the Grove's Recess appears,
Who all my boasted Vigor turn'd to Fears.
Great was his Mien, and excellent his Grace;
Grave in his Looks, commanding all his Face:
His Language awful, such as might subdue
Youth's native Wildness, yet 'twas gracious too.
He slack my Courage by a kind Surprize,
And aw'd my Soul with his majestick Eyes.
I bow'd, and blush'd, and trembling did retire,
Wond'ring at the strange Pow'r that check'd my Fire.
The little Cupid waiting by my Side,
Who was presented to me for my Guide,
Beholding me decline the sleeping Maid,
To gaze on this Intruder—Thus he said.