Poems :: :: University of Virginia Library

As t'other morning over Margate's bay,
Apollo drove the orient car of day;
Beneath the canvass, with enraptur'd eyes,
He saw fair W---n, from the waves arise;
(His eyes—the queen of love detests their sight—
Thro' all things pierce, impertinently bright.)
And as he view'd the virgin's finish'd frame,
The amorous god soon felt the tender flame;
Music's the food of love—he caught the lyre,
For ever tuneful with the golden wire;
And with his flying fingers touch'd the strings,
To his soft strains his voice melodious sings;

No, no, mighty Jove, I'd not envy thy portion,
Thy heaven for Me thou unrivall'd might'st have,
Were I but the God, the blest God of the ocean;
Were I but of ocean one favorite wave!

That wave which receives and encircles transported,
Which curls round the waist, and enjoys all the charms
Of her, by each shepherd so anxiously courted,
But worthy to gladden a God's rosy arms,

Hence, hence, ye vain suitors!—since Daphne so charming,
So coyly refus'd and so cruelly fled;
No nymph, with such passion my bosom alarming,
Seem'd worthy my wish, or seem'd worthy my bed.

Sweet maid, for thy sake, would I leave my high station,
And a shepherd again on my oaten pipe play.
Or if my bright nymph would prefer elevation,
Come, sit by my side here, and make double day!

To win thee perhaps, I might urge that the glory,
Of Beauty, of wit, and of song are all mine;
But conscious alas—I disown them before thee;
Soft song, modest wit, and chaste beauty are thine!

I'll rather avow my sincere adoration,
And wish thee to bless me, my charmer, my bride;
I'll rather present my unfeign'd and soft passion,
And wooe thee to come, and to sit by my side.

The sweets of domestic felicity blooming,
Together we'll crop from affection's sweet grove;
And each happy morning, its verdure resuming,
I'll place on thy brow a fresh chaplet of love.

Thus sang the God,—and instant gave command,
To bear the tender lay to Cupid's hand;
That he forthwith to Margate might depart,
And with the song, engage the fair one's heart.

Quick on a sun-beam Æthon shot away,
To bear to Cupid's hand the tender lay;
But vain he sought him in th' Idalian groves,
Amidst the laughing nymphs, and sporting loves:
Truant he flies,—his mother strait begun,
“Midst revel-routs and orgies seek my son;
“No more the Cyprian scenes engage his stay,
“The God of wine has led my son astray!”

Instant as thought the faithful Æthon flies,
And with the drunken God young Cupid spies;
Empurpled were the beauties of his face,
Each feature flush'd, and bloated every grace.
“Haste, haste, said Æthon, Phœbus gives command,
“Bear this soft lay to lovely W---n's hand!”
“I know her well,—the sullen boy rejoin'd;
“But ah, I hate her for her matchless mind;
“Her charms, her sense, too elegant for me;
“And, truth to say, she scorns my deity.
“Scorns my connections with this honest God;—
“I hate her, for she's chaste, and wise and good.
“But since inferior pow'rs must needs obey—
“Attend me, Discord; and take thou the lay.”

He spoke indignant; wav'd his roseat wings,
And to the destin'd fair his message brings;
He saw her at the brilliant ball appear
The fairest virgin she, where all are fair!
W---n's lov'd name maliciously eras'd;
Lucinda's in its stead had discord plac'd:

“Love-songs, quoth Cupid!—take and read, and guess
“Whose praise, sweet miss, the amorous lines express:
“Lucinda—yet 'midst these bright belles to rise,
“And to eclipse all yours, with her resplendent eyes.”

He spoke, and stern like Ajax' ghost retir'd;
We seiz'd the song, with curious ardour fir'd;
But quick discern'd the little urchin's art,
And saw the turnings of his envious heart;
All with one voice the proper nymph assign,
And own Lucinda's praise, fair W---n, justly thine.

The reader should be informed here, that the ladies at Margate bathe in the sea, under an umbrella of canvass, which is fix'd at the end of the machines.

See the next poem: the Cupid here mention'd, is the same with that whom Clorinda laments.