University of Virginia Library

From whence the sacred Harmony, that fills
With lively Notes of Joy the Latian Hills?
Phœbus, for whom dost thou new Songs inspire,
And on thy Shoulder hang the speaking Lyre?
See from the tuneful Heliconian Spring,
The nine sweet Sisters issue in a Ring;
They shake the Bridal Torch, and sprinkle round
Their sacred Streams, to sanctify the Ground.
And laughing Elegy, with sprightly Pace,
Meets the fair Quire, and calls them to the Race;
Essays the Dance, and wanton with Delight,
Seems of their Number, and deceives the Sight.
The Queen of Love her self leads on the Bride,
(Her modest Looks with virtuous Blushes dy'd)
Prepares the Rites, and to the View conceals
Her heav'nly Form, and all the Goddess vails;
Lays the full Lustre of her Charms aside,
To shine less radiant than the lovely Bride.
I know the Day, and what the Cause; for thee
This Chorus, Stella, make the Harmony;
For thee Apollo and the God of Wine,
And wing'd Cyllenius, mingled Garlands twine,
While laughing Love and all the Graces pour
On the pleas'd Fair an od'rous floral Show'r.
The Day is come, which smiling Fates decree
Shall crown the Pair with wish'd Felicity;
When Hymen call'd, shall publickly appear;
Forget your Anguish, and dismiss your Fear,
The Sorceries of Charms no more rehearse,
Nor try the Force of fascinating Verse:
Be silent, Fame; for Love submits to Law,
And bears the Bands desir'd, with willing Awe.
Suspicions walk the busy Town no more,
They see the Passion they believ'd before:
Yet thou, sweet Poet, fill'd with strange Affright,
Tho' just in Prospect of th'expected Night,
With anxious Wishes do'st afflict thy Mind,
And doubt'st the promis'd Bliss the Gods design'd.
Suppress thy Sighs; thine is the yielded Fair;
Thy free Access no Scruples now shall barr;
Nor jealous Porter keep the cautious Gate,
Nor Laws, nor Decencies thy Joys abate.
Thou shalt at length in wish'd Embraces close,
And think with Pleasure on thy former Woes.
For such a Prize, ev'n Juno might enjoin
The Toils of Hercules, and make them thine;
Condemn to face the Stygian Forms below,
Or by the fear'd Cyanean Rocks to go;
To run at Pisa, and to hear behind,
The Father's Shout, who flies before the Wind;
Shou'dst thou, like Paris, in the Question try'd,
Between the rival Goddesses decide,
Thou cou'dst not, for th'applauded Sentence, share
So rich a Favour from the Victor Fair;
Not if Aurora in her rosy Arms,
Inclos'd, and crown'd thee with her fragrant Charms.

But answer, Erato, from whence the Bard
Receiv'd the Boon, by whom it was conferr'd;
From whence the Joy, and while the Palace round
Is fill'd with servent Crouds, the Posts are crown'd,
And noble Guests from ev'ry Part abound,
The secret Cause, for well thou know'st, unvail,
And in soft Numbers sing the pleasing Tale.

It happ'd that where the nightly Heav'ns display
Their Silver Path, and shew the Milky Way,
Just as the Dawn its early Blush disclos'd,
Lay beauteous Venus on her Bed repos'd;
The little Loves officious wait around
The curious Couch, with Diligence profound;
They watch the Sign, what Torch to raise on high,
Or on what suff'ring Breast their Darts to try;
Whether on Earth to magnify her Sway,
Or exercise their Rage beneath the Sea,
Among the wat'ry Gods; or boldly fire
The Thund'rer's Breast, and vex him with Desire.
Uncertain where to fix, the Pow'r Divine
Enjoy'd her welcome Ease, and lay supine,
Stretch'd on the guilty Bed, o'er which the Chain
By Vulcan forg'd, had cast its Links in vain;
When starting from amidst the youthful Quire,
A bloomy Boy, adorn'd with brighter Fire,
(In his left Hand unerring Shafts were seen,)
With fair Address accosted thus the Queen;
Soft was the Wanton's Voice; in Silence drown'd,
His quiver'd Brethren hemm the Speaker round.

Mother, thou know'st how well my happy Hand
Has wag'd thy Wars, and spread thy wide Command;
No Man, or God, whom you vouchsaf'd to name,
But felt the Fury of the kindled Flame.
Now suffer us, with wonted Favour mild,
To Pray'rs and Tears and Vows at length to yield.
We are not from the harden'd Bowels hewn
Of flinty Rocks, our Nature is thy own.
A Latian Youth there is, of noble Race,
His Order's Honour, the Patricians Grace,
Whence at his Birth, presaging of his Fame,
They from our Heav'n impos'd his shining Name.
Him have I struck with unrelenting Heart,
And pierc'd him trembling with the sharpest Dart.
And tho' th'Ausonian Mothers strive with Pride,
For such a Son, and wish to be ally'd,
I keep him Captive in my cruel Snare,
To pine with Passion for the pow'rful Fair,
And hope, resign'd, for many a distant Year.
But with a slacken'd Bow and gentle Hand,
I touch'd the Nymph, for such was thy Command.
From hence, what Flames possess his anxious Breast,
By Night and Day, myself can well attest;
For scarcely have I in my wanton Round
Pierc'd any Bosom with so deep a Wound.
I saw Hippomenes the Race pursue,
Yet at the Goal less pallid was his Hue.
I saw the Boy defy the boist'rous Sea,
And prais'd him oft, and aided on his Way;
Yet were his Flames inferior far to thine,
O matchless Youth; thy Passion is divine,
Surpassing former Lovers widest Line.
Ev'n I myself have stood surpriz'd to see
Thy Throes of Anguish, and thy Constancy,
And, piteous of thy Pain, have gently try'd
To sooth thy Griefs, thy trickling Tears I dry'd,
And wip'd, with balmy Wings, the still-returning Tide.
How oft has great Apollo, with Disdain,
Reproach'd me for his Fav'rite Poet's Pain!
Then grant him, Mother, what his Vows demand,
Our Brother He, Companion of our Band;
For tho' his Muse cou'd hardy Deeds recite
Of warring Heroes, and th'ensanguin'd Fight,
His Lyre to thee he chuses to resign,
And with the Laurel do's thy Myrtle twine:
The Loves of Youth he sings, and fierce Desire,
And his own Passion and prevailing Fire;
And, from high Rev'rence to the Paphian Grove,
He mourn'd in tender Lays our darling Dove.

He said, and round his radiant Mother flung
His eager Arms, and on her Bosom hung;
With yielding Looks, the smiling Queen replies;
This youthful Bard affects no common Prize,
But such as Lovers whom I honour'd most
With bounteous Favours, seldom had to boast;
Th'illustrious Fair, in whom at once combine
Her House's Virtues and a noble Line,
Pleas'd with her Form, I took within my Arms,
New from the Birth, and touch'd her rising Charms.
Nor ceas'd my artful Hand with ready Care
To grace her Features and her wavy Hair.
My sweet Resemblance soon the Darling grew;
Her lofty Front and lovely Tresses view;
How brightly round her beauteous Looks she spreads,
And all the Latian Dames as far exceeds,
As Cynthia do's surpass her Nymphly Train,
Or I excell the Nereids of the Main.
Worthy with me t've issu'd from the Brine,
In the same Shell, and equally Divine;
Shou'd she ascend triumphant to the Skies,
She'd cheat my wond'ring Boy's deluded Eyes;
Tho' largely crown'd with Wealth, her gen'rous Mind
Transcends all Riches, and adorns her Kind.
For Her, the Seres strip their Groves too slow;
Nor Amber Tears enough, from the green Sisters flow;
Too slow the Fleece imbibes the crimson Stain;
Too slow congeals the Chrystal on the Plain.
Hermus for Her, I have with Gold supply'd;
For Her the Tagus rolls his glitt'ring Tide;
And Glaucus, Proteus, and the Nereid Train,
For Orient Pearls shall ransack all the Main.
If Phœbus, as he ran, this Face had view'd,
Daphne had fled secure, and unpursu'd;
Had she been present, Bacchus had refus'd
The Gnossian Fair, whom Theseus first abus'd.
And had not Juno, full of jealous Fear,
Secur'd my Friendship, with incessant Pray'r,
The Thunderer had worne his Plumes once more,
Or burnish'd Horns, or with resistless Pow'r
Convey'd the Lover in a Golden Show'r.
But I'll bestow her on the youthful Bard,
For whom thou hast desir'd the great Reward;
Long has she shun'd a second Husband's Name,
But now she kindles with an equal Flame.
So Venus said; then call'd her feather'd Train;
The harness'd Birds obey the ruling Rein;
Love took the Seat, and thro' the yielding Skies
The Chariot steers; the glitt'ring Chariot flies;
The Goddess reach'd th'Imperial Tow'rs of Rome,
And passing onwards to the genial Dome,
Beheld a Palace rais'd with lofty State,
And the pleas'd Swans with Songs approach the Gate.
The Building seem'd to rival with the Skies,
And worthy Venus drew the wond'ring Eyes.
There polish'd Marble, delicate in Stains,
From various Quarries, strove with various Veins:
The glitt'ring Onyx casts its yellow Rays,
And Porphyrite its purple Streaks displays.
Rows of firm Pillars bear the Cieling's Height,
And the rich Beams with sculptur'd Gold are bright.
The leafy Groves exclude the sultry Sun,
And Fountains fresh in polish'd Marble run;
The spacious Rooms were suited to the Year,
In this 'twas Winter, and 'twas Summer there:
So curious was the Whole, that, fill'd with Joy,
Th'exulting Goddess cast around her Eye;
Not her Idalian Bow'rs had pleas'd her more,
Her Grecian Temple, or her Paphian Shore.
Reclining on a Couch she found the Fair;
Then smiling thus address'd; My Darling Care,
By what improper Modesty mis-led,
Dost thou so long affect a single Bed?
What Manners, and what Faith too strictly strain'd,
From second Nuptials hold thy cautious Hand?
Think Age draws on; the present Hour employ,
Possess thy Charms, and seize the flitting Joy.
I gave thee not such Majesty divine,
Nor made thee ev'n another Venus shine,
Thus uselessly to pass thy widow'd Years,
And slight my Pow'r, and my endearing Cares;
Suffice it thee, so long to have deny'd
The Crouds of Suitors kneeling at thy Side;
But Stella's Soul on thee alone is bent;
Nor Form, nor Lineage do's the Heroe want.
Th'applauding City sings his happy Praise,
And Youths and Maidens learn his flowing Lays.
Thou seest the Fasces, by th'Imperial Grace,
Before the Time, declare the Consul's Place;
The Cybeleian Games he now ordains,
And reads the Sibyls dark Prophetic Strains.
The Father of his Country (I foreknow
The future Favours he will soon bestow)
Will to his Youth indulge an Honour rare,
The Purple Habit, and the Curule Chair;
And give to celebrate (what greater Praise?)
The laurell'd Triumph o'er the Dacian Race.
Then haste, my Fair, and shaking off Delay,
With joyning Hands make festival the Day.
What Hearts, what Nations, have not I, with Skill,
Caught in my Bands, and soften'd to my Will?
The winged Host, the Cattle of the Field,
And savage Creatures to my Influence yield.
The Skies and Mother Earth confess my Reign,
When fruitful Show'rs descend upon the Plain.
Where were the Saviour of the Trojan Name,
Who snatch'd his Gods devoutly from the Flame,
If I had not, to raise the Roman State,
Indulg'd th'Embraces of a Phrygian Mate?
Where were the Founder of my Julian Line?
And where th'Imperial Walls of Rome Divine?
Had not the Priestess, by my happy Aid,
Pir'd Mars's Heart, and to soft Love betray'd?
These balmy Words a silent Passage find,
And melt to Nuptial Sentiments her Mind;
And now the Presents and the pressing Pray'rs,
The Lover's Watchings and the falling Tears
Rise to her Thoughts, and all his anxious Cares.
Th'applauded Songs, in which her honour'd Name
Flew o'er the Town, and spread her Beauty's Fame,
By Night and Morn still echoing with the same.
Not Hylas' Name was more repeated round,
When the fair Youth unwarily was drown'd.
Her Soul is soften'd; see the welcome Shore,
Illustrious Poet, and despair no more.
Alpheus thus, with raging Passion fir'd,
Pursu'd the Nymph, whom he so much desir'd,
And diving down unseen, his Current guides
Pure and unmix'd with any foreign Tides,
Till issuing out at length, he rear'd his Head,
And seiz'd the Nais in her wat'ry Bed;
Surpriz'd, she wonders at the sweet Embrace,
Nor thought her Lover made the tedious Race.

How bright the Day, distinguish'd from the rest,
Which has thy Wishes, Noble Stella, blest!
And what tumultuous Joys swell in thy beating Breast!
In Ecstacy of Bliss, the shining Pole
Thou seem'st to touch, and o'er Olympus roll.
Th'Idalian Shepherd ne'er such Raptures bore,
When lovely Helen met him on the Shore;
Nor Peleus felt, when Thetis' rosy Charms
In Thessaly approach'd his longing Arms;
And, on his hinder Hooss erect in Air,
His darling Daughter, Chiron ey'd from far.
How long the Stars hang ling'ring in the Sky,
And the slow Morn retards thy promis'd Joy!

Soon as Apollo and the God of Wine
Receiv'd the News, they smil'd with Grace Divine,
Prepar'd their Quires, and Phœbus leads his Dance,
And Bacchus and his reeling Rout advance.
The Lycian Hills, and Thymbra's leafy Glade,
Parnassus' Height and brown Pangeus' Shade,
And Ismarus, and Naxos' genial Shore,
With Acclamations loudly echo o'er.
Before the Gates the merry Band appears;
Hung at his Back, his Harp Apollo bears,
But a Fawn's dappled Skin Lyæus wears.
Apollo strikes his Lyre with sprightly Sound;
And Bacchus shakes his wanton Banners round;
With Ivy this his bowsy Temples spread;
With Lawrel Wreaths, Apollo grac'd his Head.

With Torches shine the Streets, ere dawns the Morn,
And festal Pomps their Palaces adorn.
With Joy, the nobler Part of spacious Rome,
All Ranks of Honours, to the Bridal come.
The Commons shout, the Nobles croud along,
And Youths and Matrons mingle in the Throng.
They hail the Pair; but many in the Train
The Bridegroom envy, and repine in vain.
See ready Hymen, on a Post reclin'd,
Prepares a Poem of no Vulgar Kind:
The sacred Knot auspicious Juno tyes,
And Concord seals it, and confirms their Joys.
The lovely Bride outshines Lavinia's Grace,
At Turnus' Sight when Blushes warm'd her Face;
And Claudia, when before the gazing Throng,
She clear'd her Fame, and drew the Ship along.

Now let the Members of the Muses Quire,
In [illeg.]ival Verses strive, and wake the Lyre;
Each as his Genius prompts; but chiefly those
Who spritely Elegy with Skill compose;
This Day Philetas wou'd have crown'd with Praise,
And old Callimachus, in flowing Lays;
And soft Propertius in his Umbrian Shade;
And Naso, ev'n in Scythian Exile glad,
Touch'd with the Transports which these Rites inspire:
And pleas'd Tibullus by his chearful Fire.

United Causes, and my growing Love,
And Kindred Muses to this Service move;
My darling Stella's welcome Joys to sound,
Oft, in the Bands of holy Friendship bound,
The loaded Altars we have danc'd around.
Joyn'd in our Studies, and our Minds ally'd,
The same inspiring Springs our Urns supply'd.
And let my Naples lift within the Sky
Her tow'ry Front, and shoot her Columns high;
For in her City the fair Bride was born,
Whose matchless Beauties Italy adorn.
Then let the honour'd Land its Gladness show,
And pleas'd Sebetus in his swelling Flow.
Nor let the Naids of the Lucrine Shore,
And Sarnus, Stella, now delight thee more.
Haste now, and crown our Latium with a Race,
The Laws, the Camp, and Muses Train to grace.
Speed the tenth Month, kind Cynthia, by thy Pow'r,
And, O Lucina, aid her in that Hour!
And thou, sweet Offspring, with indulgent Throes,
Thy future Birth to vital Air disclose,
And spare thy Parents Pains; with secret Skill,
When Nature moulds thy Embrio in her Cell,
And forms the Features, may thy Air and Face
Speak thy Sire much, but more thy Mother's Grace.
Pride of thy Sex, now worthily possess'd
Of Stella's manly Love, and truly bless'd,
Improve the Bands which he so long has sought,
And chear his Passion with indulgent Thought;
So shall thy Charms long flourish fresh and gay,
And slowly fade with leasurely Decay.