A collection of poems on Several Occasions Publish'd in the Craftsman. By Caleb D'Anvers of Gray's Inn, Esq [i.e. Nicholas Amhurst] |
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 | A collection of poems on Several Occasions |  |
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ADVERTISEMENT:
The two following little Pieces of Poetry were occasioned by a Conversation, in which a Gentleman happened to say, by way of Gallantry, to a young Lady present, who had a fine Complexion, that she was perfect Waxwork; from whence she took the Name of Waxy. The Reader will perceive that They were written in Imitation of Pygmalion and the Statue in Ovid.
WAXY: OR, VERSES upon a Young Lady's BIRTH-DAY.
Hail to the Light of this revolving Morn,
On which such Beauty to the World was born,
Or rather made—for thus Traditions say,
That on this happy, this auspicious Day,
Salmon, the female Artist, whose Renown,
Draws to her Shop the Country and the Town,
A curious Piece, compleat in every Part,
The utmost Trial of her Plastick Art,
Resolv'd to make; the mighty Work design'd,
And thrice, with Art, the costly Wax refin'd;
Then kneaded into Form the pliant Mold,
Which glitter'd in her Hands, like burnish'd Gold;
Graceful and tall she plans the rising Dame,
And with exact Proportion builds the Frame;
Upon her Lips the lively Coral glows,
And her Teeth shine between in Ivory Rows;
The mimick Lustre brightens in her Eyes,
And on her Breast the Snowy Circles rise;
She turns her Shape, with Tresses decks her Head,
And mixes on her Cheeks the White and Red;
O'er her fair Limbs she draws the azure Veins,
Which seem like Rills that wind thro' flow'ry Plains;
Branches her Fingers out in beauteous Length,
And adds to every Feature, Grace and Strength;
The finish'd Piece, with utmost Skill compos'd,
The various Charms of all the Sex disclos'd.
On which such Beauty to the World was born,
Or rather made—for thus Traditions say,
That on this happy, this auspicious Day,
Salmon, the female Artist, whose Renown,
Draws to her Shop the Country and the Town,
A curious Piece, compleat in every Part,
The utmost Trial of her Plastick Art,
Resolv'd to make; the mighty Work design'd,
And thrice, with Art, the costly Wax refin'd;
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Which glitter'd in her Hands, like burnish'd Gold;
Graceful and tall she plans the rising Dame,
And with exact Proportion builds the Frame;
Upon her Lips the lively Coral glows,
And her Teeth shine between in Ivory Rows;
The mimick Lustre brightens in her Eyes,
And on her Breast the Snowy Circles rise;
She turns her Shape, with Tresses decks her Head,
And mixes on her Cheeks the White and Red;
O'er her fair Limbs she draws the azure Veins,
Which seem like Rills that wind thro' flow'ry Plains;
Branches her Fingers out in beauteous Length,
And adds to every Feature, Grace and Strength;
The finish'd Piece, with utmost Skill compos'd,
The various Charms of all the Sex disclos'd.
To view this unexampled Work of Art,
Crouds flock'd of old and young from every Part;
All saw, and all the matchless Form admir'd,
But chiefly One, with stronger Raptures fir'd,
Who with a Lover's Eye each Charm survey'd,
And thus to Heaven, in bitter Anguish, pray'd.
Crouds flock'd of old and young from every Part;
All saw, and all the matchless Form admir'd,
But chiefly One, with stronger Raptures fir'd,
Who with a Lover's Eye each Charm survey'd,
And thus to Heaven, in bitter Anguish, pray'd.
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Thou Power Supreme, at whose commanding Name,
From one poor Rib the first fair Woman came,
If Miracles for ever do not cease,
O! work one now; inform this lifeless Piece;
Let not those sparkling Eyes, which charm my Sight,
Shine to charm only, void of real Light;
Nor let those Limbs, so lovely to behold,
Feel to the Touch all languid, stiff and cold;
Give her a Soul, and as her Lips I kiss,
Let them pout forth and soften with the Bliss;
And those fair, Virgin Globes, at thy Command,
Let them heave gently up and tempt the Hand;
With Life and Warmth invigorate her Charms,
And let me feel her struggling in my Arms;
Be now thy Power, great Heav'n, be now display'd,
And give her to my Wish a living Maid.
From one poor Rib the first fair Woman came,
If Miracles for ever do not cease,
O! work one now; inform this lifeless Piece;
Let not those sparkling Eyes, which charm my Sight,
Shine to charm only, void of real Light;
Nor let those Limbs, so lovely to behold,
Feel to the Touch all languid, stiff and cold;
Give her a Soul, and as her Lips I kiss,
Let them pout forth and soften with the Bliss;
And those fair, Virgin Globes, at thy Command,
Let them heave gently up and tempt the Hand;
With Life and Warmth invigorate her Charms,
And let me feel her struggling in my Arms;
Be now thy Power, great Heav'n, be now display'd,
And give her to my Wish a living Maid.
Heav'n saw the artless Tumult in his Breast,
Heard his ascending Prayer and made him blest;
Just as he wish'd, behold! it comes to pass,
The lifeless, Mute, is made a living Lass;
Her Limbs grow warm, her nimble Eye-balls roll,
And in her Bosom beats the human Soul;
Her soften'd Lips blush like the Morning Rose,
And her loos'd Tongue its proper Office knows;
On either Side her heaving Bosom charms,
And, streak'd with blue, she waves her Milk-white Arms;
She quickens all, and quicken'd she appears,
Just as she did in Wax; a Maid of fifteen Years.
Heard his ascending Prayer and made him blest;
Just as he wish'd, behold! it comes to pass,
The lifeless, Mute, is made a living Lass;
Her Limbs grow warm, her nimble Eye-balls roll,
And in her Bosom beats the human Soul;
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And her loos'd Tongue its proper Office knows;
On either Side her heaving Bosom charms,
And, streak'd with blue, she waves her Milk-white Arms;
She quickens all, and quicken'd she appears,
Just as she did in Wax; a Maid of fifteen Years.
Thrice glorious Morn! distinguish'd may'st thou rise,
With double Lustre gild our Wintry Skies;
And Thou, for this great Work, amongst the Blest,
May'st thou, O! Salmon, may'st thou ever rest;
In Heav'n the happiest Mansion may'st thou find,
For leaving such an Angel-form behind.
With double Lustre gild our Wintry Skies;
And Thou, for this great Work, amongst the Blest,
May'st thou, O! Salmon, may'st thou ever rest;
In Heav'n the happiest Mansion may'st thou find,
For leaving such an Angel-form behind.
TO WAXY.
From humble Dust and common Earth
Whilst other Women take their Birth,
You, Waxy, boast a nobler Frame,
From more refin'd Beginnings came;
Hear, O! Thou Joy of every Heart,
What Thou hast been, and what Thou art.
Whilst other Women take their Birth,
You, Waxy, boast a nobler Frame,
From more refin'd Beginnings came;
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What Thou hast been, and what Thou art.
First in gay Groves and blissful Bowers
Thy Charms were seen in opening Flowers,
Did in the Rose and Woodbine bloom,
And with their Sweets the Spring perfume;
Each fragrant Shrub, and every Tree
Once, Waxy, was a Part of Thee;
From whence the painful Insect drew
(As daily round the Fields he flew)
Of golden Wax the precious Store,
And to his Hive the Burthen bore.
Salmon did on the Bee refine,
And Heav'n compleated the Design,
Wak'd Thee to Life, divinely good,
In all the Charms of Flesh and Blood.
Thy Charms were seen in opening Flowers,
Did in the Rose and Woodbine bloom,
And with their Sweets the Spring perfume;
Each fragrant Shrub, and every Tree
Once, Waxy, was a Part of Thee;
From whence the painful Insect drew
(As daily round the Fields he flew)
Of golden Wax the precious Store,
And to his Hive the Burthen bore.
Salmon did on the Bee refine,
And Heav'n compleated the Design,
Wak'd Thee to Life, divinely good,
In all the Charms of Flesh and Blood.
In every Change, through which you past,
I trace you down from first to last;
Sweet as the Flowers, in which you bloom'd;
Gay as the Groves, which you perfum'd;
Brisk as the Bee, which robs the Spring,
And thy Wit pointed like its Sting;
Soft as the Wax in Salmon's Hand;
And just as Heav'n, by whose Command
Dwells in thy Breast a living Soul,
The Hearts of Millions you controul,
And wrought with more than female Grace,
Triumph ev'n o'er your own fair Race.
I trace you down from first to last;
Sweet as the Flowers, in which you bloom'd;
Gay as the Groves, which you perfum'd;
Brisk as the Bee, which robs the Spring,
And thy Wit pointed like its Sting;
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And just as Heav'n, by whose Command
Dwells in thy Breast a living Soul,
The Hearts of Millions you controul,
And wrought with more than female Grace,
Triumph ev'n o'er your own fair Race.
But, oh! thus lovely as Thou art,
Thus form'd to melt the youthful Heart,
Scornful and cruel should'st Thou prove,
Deaf to the Vows and Prayers of Love,
Better that Wax Thou still had'st been,
At Salmon's for a Tester seen,
A shining, but a lifeless Mass,
By School-Boys gaz'd on through a Glass,
Than living make Mankind endure
Those Wounds you give, but will not cure.
Thus form'd to melt the youthful Heart,
Scornful and cruel should'st Thou prove,
Deaf to the Vows and Prayers of Love,
Better that Wax Thou still had'st been,
At Salmon's for a Tester seen,
A shining, but a lifeless Mass,
By School-Boys gaz'd on through a Glass,
Than living make Mankind endure
Those Wounds you give, but will not cure.
| A collection of poems on Several Occasions | |