Of MUSIDORA's cruelty complain'd, She felt his flame; but deep within her breast, In bashful coynefs, or in maiden pride, The foft return conceal'd; fave when it stole In fide-long glances from her downcast eye, Or from her fwelling foul in ftifled fighs Touch'd by the scene, no stranger to his vows, He fram'd a melting lay, to try her heart; And, if an infant paffion ftruggled there, To call that paffion forth. Thrice happy swain! A lucky chance, that oft decides the fate Of mighty monarchs, then decided thine. For lo! conducted by the laughing Loves, This cool retreat his MUSIDORA fought: Warm in her cheek the fultry feafon glow'd; And, rob'd in loose array, fhe came to bathe Her fervent limbs in the refreshing stream. What fhall he do? In fweet confufion loft, And dubious flutterings, he a while remain'd; A pure ingenuous elegance of foul,
A delicate refinement, known to few, Perplex'd his breast, and urg'd him to retire : But love forbade. Ye prudes in virtue, fay, Say, ye feverest, what would you have done? Meantime, this fairer nymph than ever bleft
Arcadian ftream, with timid eye around
The banks furveying, ftripp'd her beauteous limbs, To tafte the lucid coolness of the flood. Ah then! not Paris on the piny top
Of Ida panted stronger, when afide The rival-goddeffes the veil divine
Caft unconfin'd, and gave him all their charms, Than, DAMON, thou; as from the fnowy leg, And flender foot, th' inverted filk she drew; As the foft touch diffolv'd the virgin zone; And, thro' the parting, robe, th' alternate breast, With youth wild-throbbing, on thy lawless gaze In full luxuriance rofe. But, defperate youth, How durft thou risk the foul-diftracting view; As from her naked limbs, of glowing white, Harmonious fwell'd by Nature's finest hand, In folds loofe-floating fell the fainter lawn; And fair-expos'd she stood, shrunk from herself, With fancy blushing, at the doubtful breeze Alarm'd, and starting like the fearful fawn ? Then to the flood fhe rufh'd; the parted flood Its lovely guest with closing waves receiv'd; And every beauty foftening, every grace Flushing anew, a mellow luftre shed. As fhines the lily thro' the cryftal mild;
Or as the rofe amid the morning dew, Fresh from Aurora's hand, more fweetly glows, While thus fhe wanton'd, now beneath the wave But ill-conceal'd; and now with streaming locks, That half-embrac'd her in a humid veil,
Rifing again, the latent DAMON drew Such madning draughts of beauty to the foul, As for a while o'erwhelm'd his raptur'd thought With luxury too-daring. Check'd, at laft, By love's refpectful modefty, he deem'd The theft profane, if aught profane to love Can e'er be deem'd; and, struggling from the fhade, With headlong hurry fled: but first these lines, Trac'd by his ready pencil, on the bank
With trembling hand he threw: "Bathe on, my fair, "Yet unbeheld fave by the facred eye "Of faithful love: I go to guard thy haunt, "To keep from thy recefs each vagrant foot, "And each licentious eye." With wild surprise, As if to marble struck, devoid of sense, A ftupid moment motionless she stood:
So ftands the ftatue * that enchants the world, So bending tries to veil the matchlefs boaft,
The mingled beauties of exulting Greece. Recovering, fwift fhe flew to find thofe robes Which blissful Eden knew not; and, array'd In careless hafte, th' alarming paper fnatch'd. But, when her DAMON's well-known hand she saw, Her terrors vanish'd, and a fofter train
Of mixt emotions, hard to be describ'd,
Her fudden bofom feiz'd: fhame void of guilt,
The charming blush of innocence, esteem
And admiration of her lover's flame,
By modefty exalted: even a sense Of felf-approving beauty stole across
Her bufy thought. At length, a tender calm Hufh'd by degrees the tumult of her foul;
And on the spreading beech, that o'er the stream Incumbent hung, she with the filvan pen
Of rural lovers this confeffion carv'd,
Which foon her DAMON kifs'd with weeping joy: "Dear youth! fole judge of what these verses mean, "By fortune too much favour'd, but by love, "Alas! not favour'd lefs, be still as now
"Discreet; the time may come you need not fly." The fun has loft his rage: his downward orb Shoots nothing now but animating warmth, And vital luftre; that, with various ray,
Lights up the clouds, those beauteous robes of heaven, Inceffant roll'd into romantic fhapes,
The dream of waking fancy! Broad below, Cover'd with ripening fruits, and fwelling faft Into the perfect year, the pregnant earth And all her tribes rejoice. Now the foft hour Of walking comes: for him who lonely loves To seek the distant hills, and there converfe With Nature; there to harmonize his heart, And in pathetic fong to breathe around The harmony to others. Social friends, Attun'd to happy unifon of foul;
To whofe exalting eye a fairer world, Of which the vulgar never had a glimpse, Displays its charms; whofe minds are richly fraught With philofophic ftores, fuperior light; And in whofe breaft, enthufiaftic, burns Virtue, the fons of intereft deem romance; Now call'd abroad enjoy the falling day: Now to the verdant Portico of woods,
To Nature's vaft Lyceum, forth they walk; By that kind School where no proud mafter reigns, The full free converse of the friendly heart, Improving and improv'd. Now from the world, Sacred to sweet retirement, lovers steal,
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