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2.

Not the wild Herd of Nymphs and Swains,
That thoughtless fly into the Chains,
As Cuftom leads the way:
If there be Blifs without Defign,
Ivies and Oaks may grow and twine,
And be as bleft as they.

Not fordid Souls of Earthy Mould
Who drawn by kindred Charms of Gold,
To dull Embraces move:

So two rich Mountains of Peru,
May rush to wealthy Marriage too,
And make a World of Love.

4.

Not the mad Tribe that Hell infpires
With wanton Flames, thofe raging Fires
The purer Blifs destroy:

On Etna's Top-let Furies wed,
And Sheets of Lightning drefs the Bed
T'improve the burning Joy.

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Nor the dull Pairs whofe Marble Forms,
None of the melting Paffions warms,
Can mingle Hearts and Hands:

Logs of green Wood that quench the Coals,
Are marry'd just like Stoic Souls,
With Ofyers for their Bands.

6.

Not Minds of melancholy Strain,
Still filent, or that ftill complain,
Can the dear Bondage blefs:

As well may heavenly Conforts fpring,
From two old Lutes, with ne'er à String,
Or none befides the Bafe.

7.

Nor can the foft Enchantments hold
Two jarring Souls of angry Mould,
The rugged and the keen,

Sampfon's young Foxes might as well
In Bonds of chearful Wedlock dwell,
With Fire-Brands ty'd between..

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Nor let the cruel Fetters bind
A gentle to a favage Mind,

For Love abhors the Sight:
Loofe the fierce Tyger from the Deer,
For native Rage and native Fear
Rife and forbid Delight.

9.

Two kindest Souls alone must meet,
Its Friendship makes the Bondage iweet
And feeds their mutual Loves :
Bright Venus on her rolling Throne
Is drawn by gentleft Birds alone,
And Cupids yoke the Doves.

CXII.

The Indian Philofopher:

By the fame Author.

I.

WHY fhould our Joys transform to Pain?

Why gentle Hymen's filken Chain A plague of Iron prove? Bendi, 'tis ftrange the Charm that binds Millions of Hands, fhould leave their Minds At fuch a loose from Love.

2.

In vain I fonght the wond'rous Caufe,
Ranged the wide Fields of Nature's Laws,
And urg'd the Schools in vain;
Then deep in Thought, within my Breaft
My Soul retir'd, and flumber drefs'd
A bright Inftructive Scene.

3.

O'er the broad Lands, and crofs the Tide
On Fancy's airy Horfe I ride,
(Sweet Rapture of the Mind)

Till on the Banks of Gange's Flood
In a tall ancient Grove I ftood
For Sacred Ufe defign'd.

Hard by a Venerable Priest

Ris'n with his God the Sun from Reft
Awoke his Morning-Song;
Thrice he conjur'd the murm'ring Stream,
The Birth of Souls was all his Theme,
And Half-Divine his Tongue.

5.

He fung th' eternal rolling Flame,
That Vital Mafs, that ftill the fame
Does all our Minds compose:
But fhap'd in twice ten thousand Frames,
Thence diff'ring Souls of differing Names,
And jarring Tempers rofe.

6.

The mighty Power that form'd the Mind One Mould for every Two defign'd,

And blefs'd the New-born Pair: This be a Match for this: He faid, Then down he fent the Souls he made To feek them Bodies here.

7.

But parting from their warm Abode,
They loft their Fellows on the Road,
And never joyn'd their Hands:

Ah cruel Chance, and croffing Fates!
Our Eastern Souls have dropt their Mates
On Europe's barbarous Lands.

8.

Happy the Youth that finds the Bride
Whole Birth is to his own ally'd,
The fweeteft Joy of Life:

But oh the Crouds of wretched Souls,
Fetter'd to Minds of different Moulds,
And chain'd to Eternal Strife!

9.

Thus fang the wond'rous Indian Bard;
My Soul with vaft Attention heard,
While Ganges ceas'd to flow:
Sure then (I cry'd) might I but fee
That gentle Nymph that twinn'd with me,
I may be happy too.

10.

Some courteous Angel, tell me where,
What diftant Lands this unknown Fair
Or diftant Seas detain?

Swift as the Wheel of Nature rolls
I'd fly to meet and mingle Souls,
And wear the joyful Chain.

CXIII. The

CXIII.

The Four Seafons of the Year.

SPRING.

"

Erceiv'ft thou not the procefs of the Year, How the Four Seafons in four Forms appear, Refembling human Life in every Shape they wear.. Spring firft, like Infancy, Shoots out her Head, With milky Juice requiring to be fed : Helpless, tho' fresh, and wanting to be led. The green Stent grows in Stature and in Size, But only feeds with Hope the Farmer's Eyes, Then laughs the childifh year with Flourets crown'd, And lavithly perfumes the Fields around, But no fubftantial Nourishment receives, Infirm the Stalks, unfolid are the Leaves.

CXIV.

SUMMER..

PRoceeding onward whence the year began,

The Summer grows adult, ripens into Man.
This Seafon, as in Men, is moft repleat
With kindly Moifture, and prolifick Heat.

CXV.

Autumn, or Fall of the Leaf.

Utumn fucceeds, a fober tepid Age,

Not froze with Fear, nor boyling into Rage;

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