 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
188
THE OXFORD BEAUTIES.
Ye gentle Nymphs! that haunt fair Isis Streams,
Aid me in Visions and repeated Dreams;
By Beauty warm'd I touch the trembling String,
What Muse for Beauty will refuse to sing?
Ye Oxford Belles! my ravish'd Soul inspire
With all the Poet's and the Lover's Fire:
Beam on my Mind, excite the soft Alarm,
And make me conscious of each heav'nly Charm.
Aid me in Visions and repeated Dreams;
By Beauty warm'd I touch the trembling String,
What Muse for Beauty will refuse to sing?
Ye Oxford Belles! my ravish'd Soul inspire
With all the Poet's and the Lover's Fire:
Beam on my Mind, excite the soft Alarm,
And make me conscious of each heav'nly Charm.
189
Lo! to my View a thousand Beauties rise,
In silent Rapture stand my wondring Eyes:
A modest Ardour dawns upon my Soul,
And vast Ideas in my Bosom roul.
Fain with their Merits would I grace my Lays,
And make my Verse immortal, as their Praise:
Oh! had I Dorset's sweet, prevailing Art,
To speak the gentle Transports of my Heart!
Could I, like Him, awake the warbling Lyre,
And at each Motion kindle warm Desire.
Could I, like Him, the ev'ry Sense improve,
And make my Numbers equal to my Love!
Each am'rous Line should melt in soft Alarms,
And whisp'ring tell, from whom it stole it's Charms.
In silent Rapture stand my wondring Eyes:
A modest Ardour dawns upon my Soul,
And vast Ideas in my Bosom roul.
Fain with their Merits would I grace my Lays,
And make my Verse immortal, as their Praise:
Oh! had I Dorset's sweet, prevailing Art,
To speak the gentle Transports of my Heart!
Could I, like Him, awake the warbling Lyre,
And at each Motion kindle warm Desire.
Could I, like Him, the ev'ry Sense improve,
And make my Numbers equal to my Love!
Each am'rous Line should melt in soft Alarms,
And whisp'ring tell, from whom it stole it's Charms.
Sweet is Sibilla, fresh as Infant Day,
Bright without Pride, and Innocently gay:
Whene'er she wanders thro' the vernal Woods,
Or seeks the Murmurs of the falling Floods;
The vernal Woods seem ravish'd at the Sight,
And softer Murmurs speak the Floods Delight:
The Sylvan Syrens tune their choicest Strains,
And native Musick fills the list'ning Plains.
A Thousand Cupids wait upon the Fair,
Sport on her Breast, or revel in her Hair.
Bright without Pride, and Innocently gay:
Whene'er she wanders thro' the vernal Woods,
Or seeks the Murmurs of the falling Floods;
190
And softer Murmurs speak the Floods Delight:
The Sylvan Syrens tune their choicest Strains,
And native Musick fills the list'ning Plains.
A Thousand Cupids wait upon the Fair,
Sport on her Breast, or revel in her Hair.
Shervina's Shape, her bright, unsully'd Charms,
Might set two warring Nations up in Arms:
See! with what Grace the soft Enchantress walks!
With what perswasive Eloquence She talks!
Such, or less fair, in antient Times was seen
On Ida's shady Mount, the Cyprian Queen.
Sure! bounteous Heav'n, mistaking theirs for Thine,
Cast Thee, Shervina! in a Mould Divine.
Might set two warring Nations up in Arms:
See! with what Grace the soft Enchantress walks!
With what perswasive Eloquence She talks!
Such, or less fair, in antient Times was seen
On Ida's shady Mount, the Cyprian Queen.
Sure! bounteous Heav'n, mistaking theirs for Thine,
Cast Thee, Shervina! in a Mould Divine.
Bright is Dorella, as the Morning Dawn,
Sweet as the Dews, that deck the open Lawn:
Soft as the Damask of the silken Rose,
Mild as when Zephirus on Flora blows.
Whene'er she speaks, Gods! how her heav'nly Tongue
Melts down the Passions of the list'ning Throng!
Like Sampson's Riddle, she unfolds her Mind,
Where Strength and Sweetness both in One are joyn'd.
Sweet as the Dews, that deck the open Lawn:
Soft as the Damask of the silken Rose,
Mild as when Zephirus on Flora blows.
191
Melts down the Passions of the list'ning Throng!
Like Sampson's Riddle, she unfolds her Mind,
Where Strength and Sweetness both in One are joyn'd.
Fair Anna's Charms allure the am'rous Youth
To taste the Joys of Innocence and Truth:
She's harmless as the Turtle of the Woods,
Sweet as the Vi'lets by the silver Floods.
No practis'd Smiles, or soft, affected Air
Sets off with cheating Grace the lovely Fair;
In native Beauty modestly she walks,
And charms alike, whene'er she looks or talks.
To taste the Joys of Innocence and Truth:
She's harmless as the Turtle of the Woods,
Sweet as the Vi'lets by the silver Floods.
No practis'd Smiles, or soft, affected Air
Sets off with cheating Grace the lovely Fair;
In native Beauty modestly she walks,
And charms alike, whene'er she looks or talks.
Eliza's Charms the heedless Boy surprize,
Whilst Youth and Beauty sparkle in her Eyes:
Endow'd with all, that can adorn the Fair,
A winning Accent, and a graceful Air.
Whene'er her Lyre begins some warbled Air,
Sweet are the Notes, as Nature made her Fair:
With sudden Arts she traps the roving Heart,
And shoots her pleasing Pains thro' every Part.
Whilst Youth and Beauty sparkle in her Eyes:
Endow'd with all, that can adorn the Fair,
A winning Accent, and a graceful Air.
192
Sweet are the Notes, as Nature made her Fair:
With sudden Arts she traps the roving Heart,
And shoots her pleasing Pains thro' every Part.
Andira's Beauties, like keen Light'ning, wound,
Her Words and Looks both equally confound:
How gently-soft her lovely Ringlets flow,
Sport with the Gales, and fan the Neck below!
Her panting Breasts, like dying Turtles move,
Heave up and down, and wanton court to Love.
But when the sweet-deluding Syren sings,
Loves on her Lips rejoyce, and clap their silken Wings.
Her Words and Looks both equally confound:
How gently-soft her lovely Ringlets flow,
Sport with the Gales, and fan the Neck below!
Her panting Breasts, like dying Turtles move,
Heave up and down, and wanton court to Love.
But when the sweet-deluding Syren sings,
Loves on her Lips rejoyce, and clap their silken Wings.
Soft Margaretta warms the panting Heart,
And shoots her Venom quick thro' ev'ry Part:
But when she smoothly swims the mazy Dance,
Now a Retreat, and then a bold Advance;
Heav'ns! how the Soul in Transport melts away,
Unable to withstand so bright a Day.
And shoots her Venom quick thro' ev'ry Part:
But when she smoothly swims the mazy Dance,
Now a Retreat, and then a bold Advance;
193
Unable to withstand so bright a Day.
But oh! Marinda! how shall I rehearse
Thy matchless Charms in my too humble Verse?
Had not your Beauty Darts enough to wound,
But must we fall too by Poetick Sound?
Smooth flow your Numbers, as the gentle Stream,
Whilst Woods and Turtles are your softest Theme:
Your modest Air and Manners strong prevail,
In which your Sappho's only said to fail;
Tho' free, yet chaste; tho' handsome, yet not vain;
Wise, without Pride; without Decieving, Plain.
Thy matchless Charms in my too humble Verse?
Had not your Beauty Darts enough to wound,
But must we fall too by Poetick Sound?
Smooth flow your Numbers, as the gentle Stream,
Whilst Woods and Turtles are your softest Theme:
Your modest Air and Manners strong prevail,
In which your Sappho's only said to fail;
Tho' free, yet chaste; tho' handsome, yet not vain;
Wise, without Pride; without Decieving, Plain.
Oh! let those Breasts be my Poetick Hill,
Those balmy Lips my Heliconian Rill:
Here let the Poet live the Heav'nly Day,
For ever on that Bosom let me lay,
And sing a whole Eternity away.
Those balmy Lips my Heliconian Rill:
Here let the Poet live the Heav'nly Day,
For ever on that Bosom let me lay,
And sing a whole Eternity away.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |