ΤΟ A YOUNG LADY, ON HER PRESENTING THE AUTHOR WITH A LOCK OF HER HAIR. By the Same. THE Poets (fabling tribe!) aver, That once the ruthless God of War, (Who, bred amid the din of arms, Defy'd the power of Beauty's charms, And long had, proudly, scorn'd to wear The pleasing fetters of the Fair) Struck with the graceful air and mien, And roseate bloom of Cyprus' Queen; His savage fierceness all forbore, Subdued by Venus' magic lore; And soon became, her power to prove, A convert to the force of Love. The wily Goddess then, 'tis said, All with an heavenly-temper'd braid Of net-work, circled him around, From the fierce God of War so tam'd, Thus say the Poets-who in fiction, In figure, and in contradiction To all the laws of modest Nature, Might I the genuine truth reveal, And would you listen to the tale; Would you, indulgently, supply Whate'er I pass in silence by Whose was the dull, insensate breast, Which Beauty's power, at length confess'dWho soon became, that power to prove, A convert to the force of love: Would you conceive who 'tis I mean- "The heavenly net-work, Venus' snare, ΤΟ Α LADY MAKING A PIN-BASKET. BY SIR JAMES MARRIOT. WHILE objects of a parent's care With joy your fond attention share, Madam, accept th' auspicious strain; Nor rise your beauteous work in vain : Oft be your second race survey'd, And oft a new pin-basket made. When marriage was in all its glory (So poets, madam, tell the story,) Ere Plutus damp'd love's purer flame, Or Smithfield bargains had a name, In heav'n a blooming youth and bride At Hymen's altars were ally'd; When Cupid had his Psyche won, And, all her destin'd labors done, The cruel Fates their rage relented, And mamma Venus had consented. At Jove's command, and Hermes' call, Before the mighty Thunderer. Low at his throne they bent the knee: Lay'd his tremendous bolt aside, And strok'd their cheeks, and kiss'd the bride. Says Juno, since our Jove's so kind, And know, from this your nuptial morn |