Poems on Several Occasions With some Select Essays in Prose. In Two Volumes. By John Hughes; Adorn'd with Sculptures |
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GREENWICH-PARK.
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 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
106
GREENWICH-PARK.
The
Paphian Isle was once the blest Abode
Of Beauty's Goddess and her Archer-God.
There blissful Bow'rs and amorous Shades were seen,
Fair Cypress Walks, and Myrtles ever green.
'Twas there, surrounded by a hallow'd Wood,
Sacred to Love a splendid Temple stood;
Where Altars were with costly Gums perfum'd,
And Lovers Sighs arose, and Smoke from Hearts consum'd.
'Till thence remov'd, the Queen of Beauty flies
To BRITAIN, fam'd for bright victorious Eyes.
Here fix'd, She chose a sweeter Seat for Love,
And GREENWICH-PARK is now her Cyprian Grove.
Of Beauty's Goddess and her Archer-God.
There blissful Bow'rs and amorous Shades were seen,
Fair Cypress Walks, and Myrtles ever green.
'Twas there, surrounded by a hallow'd Wood,
Sacred to Love a splendid Temple stood;
Where Altars were with costly Gums perfum'd,
And Lovers Sighs arose, and Smoke from Hearts consum'd.
'Till thence remov'd, the Queen of Beauty flies
To BRITAIN, fam'd for bright victorious Eyes.
Here fix'd, She chose a sweeter Seat for Love,
And GREENWICH-PARK is now her Cyprian Grove.
Nor fair Parnassus with this Hill can vie,
Which gently swells into the wond'ring Sky,
Commanding all that can transport our Sight,
And varying with each View the fresh Delight.
From hence my Muse prepares to wing her Way,
And wanton, like the Thames, thro' smiling Meads wou'd stray,
Describe the Groves beneath, the Sylvan Bow'rs,
The River's winding Train, and great Augusta's Tow'rs.
Which gently swells into the wond'ring Sky,
Commanding all that can transport our Sight,
And varying with each View the fresh Delight.
From hence my Muse prepares to wing her Way,
And wanton, like the Thames, thro' smiling Meads wou'd stray,
107
The River's winding Train, and great Augusta's Tow'rs.
But see!—a living Prospect drawing near
At once transports, and raises awful Fear!
Love's Fav'rite Band, selected to maintain
His choicest Triumphs, and support his Reign.
Muse, pay thy Homage here—Yet oh beware!
And draw the glorious Scene with artful Care,
For foolish Praise is Satire on the Fair.
At once transports, and raises awful Fear!
Love's Fav'rite Band, selected to maintain
His choicest Triumphs, and support his Reign.
Muse, pay thy Homage here—Yet oh beware!
And draw the glorious Scene with artful Care,
For foolish Praise is Satire on the Fair.
Behold where bright URANIA does advance,
And lightens thro' the Trees with ev'ry Glance!
A careless Pleasure in her Air is seen;
Diana shines with such a graceful Mien,
When in her darling Woods she's feign'd to rove,
The Chase pursuing, and avoiding Love.
At flying Deer the Goddess boasts her Aim,
But Cupid shews the Nymph a nobler Game.
Th'unerring Shafts so various fly around,
'Tis hard to say which gives the deepest Wound.
Or if with greater Glory We submit,
Pierc'd by her Eyes, her Humour, or her Wit.
And lightens thro' the Trees with ev'ry Glance!
A careless Pleasure in her Air is seen;
Diana shines with such a graceful Mien,
When in her darling Woods she's feign'd to rove,
The Chase pursuing, and avoiding Love.
At flying Deer the Goddess boasts her Aim,
But Cupid shews the Nymph a nobler Game.
Th'unerring Shafts so various fly around,
'Tis hard to say which gives the deepest Wound.
Or if with greater Glory We submit,
Pierc'd by her Eyes, her Humour, or her Wit.
See next her charming Sister, young and gay,
In Beauty's Bloom like the sweet Month of May!
The sportful Nymph once in the neighb'ring Grove
Surpris'd by Chance the sleeping God of Love;
His Head reclin'd upon a Tuft of Green,
And by him scatter'd lay his Arrows bright and keen;
She ty'd his Wings, and stole his wanton Darts,
Then, laughing, wak'd the Tyrant Lord of Hearts;
He smil'd,—and said—'Tis well, insulting Fair!
Yet how you sport with sleeping Love beware!
My Loss of Darts I quickly can supply,
Your Looks shall triumph for Love's Deity:
And tho' you now my feeble Pow'r disdain,
You once perhaps may feel a Lover's Pain.
In Beauty's Bloom like the sweet Month of May!
The sportful Nymph once in the neighb'ring Grove
Surpris'd by Chance the sleeping God of Love;
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And by him scatter'd lay his Arrows bright and keen;
She ty'd his Wings, and stole his wanton Darts,
Then, laughing, wak'd the Tyrant Lord of Hearts;
He smil'd,—and said—'Tis well, insulting Fair!
Yet how you sport with sleeping Love beware!
My Loss of Darts I quickly can supply,
Your Looks shall triumph for Love's Deity:
And tho' you now my feeble Pow'r disdain,
You once perhaps may feel a Lover's Pain.
Tho' Helen's Form, and Cleopatra's Charms,
The Boast of Fame, once kindled dire Alarms:
Those dazzling Lights the World no more must view,
And scarce wou'd think the bright Description true,
Did not that Ray of Beauty, more divine,
In MIRA's Eyes by Transmigration shine.
Her Shape, her Air, Proportion, lovely Face,
And matchless Skin contend with Rival Grace;
And Venus' self, proud of th'officious Aid,
With all her Charms adorns th'illustrious Maid.
The Boast of Fame, once kindled dire Alarms:
Those dazzling Lights the World no more must view,
And scarce wou'd think the bright Description true,
Did not that Ray of Beauty, more divine,
In MIRA's Eyes by Transmigration shine.
Her Shape, her Air, Proportion, lovely Face,
And matchless Skin contend with Rival Grace;
And Venus' self, proud of th'officious Aid,
With all her Charms adorns th'illustrious Maid.
But hark!—What more than Mortal Sounds are these?
Be Still ye whisp'ring Winds, and moving Trees!
A second MIRA does all Hearts surprize,
At once victorious with her Voice and Eyes.
Her Eyes alone can tender'st Love inspire,
Her heav'nly Voice improves the young Desire.
So Western Gales in fragrant Gardens play
On Buds produc'd by the Sun's quickning Ray,
And spread 'em into Life, and gently chide their Stay.
We court that Skill, by which We're sure to die,
The modest Fair wou'd fain our Suit deny,
And sings unwillingly, with trembling Fear,
As if concern'd our Ruin is so near;
So generous Victors softest Pity know,
And with Reluctance strike the fatal Blow.
Be Still ye whisp'ring Winds, and moving Trees!
A second MIRA does all Hearts surprize,
At once victorious with her Voice and Eyes.
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Her heav'nly Voice improves the young Desire.
So Western Gales in fragrant Gardens play
On Buds produc'd by the Sun's quickning Ray,
And spread 'em into Life, and gently chide their Stay.
We court that Skill, by which We're sure to die,
The modest Fair wou'd fain our Suit deny,
And sings unwillingly, with trembling Fear,
As if concern'd our Ruin is so near;
So generous Victors softest Pity know,
And with Reluctance strike the fatal Blow.
Engaging CYNTHIA's arm'd with every Grace;
Her lovely Mind shines chearful thro' her Face,
A sacred Lamp in a fair Crystal Case.
Not Venus-Star, the brightest of the Sphere,
Smiles so serene, or casts a Light so clear.
O happy Brother of this wondrous Fair!
The best of Sisters well deserves thy Care;
Her sighing Lovers, who in Crouds adore,
Wou'd wish thy Place, did they not wish for more.
What Angels are, when We desire to know,
We form a Thought by such as She below,
And thence conclude they're bright beyond Compare,
Compos'd of all that's Good, and all that's Fair.
Her lovely Mind shines chearful thro' her Face,
A sacred Lamp in a fair Crystal Case.
Not Venus-Star, the brightest of the Sphere,
Smiles so serene, or casts a Light so clear.
O happy Brother of this wondrous Fair!
The best of Sisters well deserves thy Care;
Her sighing Lovers, who in Crouds adore,
Wou'd wish thy Place, did they not wish for more.
What Angels are, when We desire to know,
We form a Thought by such as She below,
And thence conclude they're bright beyond Compare,
Compos'd of all that's Good, and all that's Fair.
There yet remains unnam'd a dazzling Throng
Of Nymphs, who to these happy Shades belong.
O Venus! lovely Queen of soft Desires!
For ever dwell where Such supply thy Fires!
May Virtue still with Beauty share the Sway,
And the glad World with willing Zeal obey!
Of Nymphs, who to these happy Shades belong.
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For ever dwell where Such supply thy Fires!
May Virtue still with Beauty share the Sway,
And the glad World with willing Zeal obey!
| Poems on Several Occasions | |