Then I repented I had vow'd no more
To love, or Delia's beauteous eyes adore.
Why am I now condemn'd to banishment,
And made an exile, by my own confent?
I fighing cry'd, why should I live in pain
Thofe fleeting hours which ne'er return again?
O Delia! what can wretched Strephon do!
Inhuman to himfelf, and falfe to you!
"Tis true, I've promis'd Reason to remove
From these retreats, and quit bright Delia's love:
But is not Reafon partially unkind?
Are all her votaries, like me, confin'd?
Muft none, that under her dominion live,
To Love and Beauty veneration give?
Why then did Nature youthful Delia grace
With a majestic mein, and charming face?
Why did the give her that furprizing air;
Make her fo gay, fo witty, and fo fair;
Miftrefs of all that can affection move,
If Reafon will not fuffer us to love?
But, fince it must be fo, I'll hafte away;
"Tis fatal to return, and death to stay.
From you, bleft fhades! (If I may call you fo
Inculpable) with mighty pain I go:
Compell'd from hence, I leave my quiet here;
I may find fafety, but I buy it dear.

boy,

Then turning round, I faw a beauteous
Such as of old were meffengers of joy;
Who art thou, or from whence? if fent, faid I,
To me, my hafte requires a quick reply.

I come, he cry'd, from yon celeftial grove,
Where ftands the temple of the God of Love;
With whofe important favour you are grac'd,
And justly in his high protection plac'd:
Be grateful, Strephon, and obey that god,
Whofe fceptre ne'er is chang'd into a rod;
That god, to whom the haughty and the proud,

The bold, the braveft, nay, the beft, have bow'd:
That god, whom all the leffer gods adore ;
First in existence, and the first in power.
From him I come, on embaffy divine,
To tell thee, Delia, Delia may be thine;
To whom all beauties rightful tribute pay;
Delia, the young, the lovely, and the gay.
If you dare push your fortune, if you dare
But be refolved, and prefs the yielding fair,
Succefs and glory will your labours crown;
For Fate does rarely on the valiant frown.
But, were you fure to be unkindly us'd,
Coldly receiv'd, and fcornfully refus'd;
He greater glory and more fame obtains,
Who lofes Delia, than who Phyllis gains.
But, to prevent all fears that may arife,
(Though fears ne'er move the daring and the wife)
In the dark volumes of eternal doom,

Where all things paft, and prefent, and to come,
Are writ, I faw thefe words" It is decreed,
"That Strephon's love to Delia fhall fucceed."
What would you more? While youth and vigour last,
Love, and be happy; they decline too fast.
In youth alone you 're capable to prove
The mighty transports of a generous love;
For dull old-age, with fumbling labour, cloys
Before the blifs, or gives but wither'd joys.
Youth's the best time for action mortals have;
That past, they touch the confines of the grave.

Now, if you hope to live in Delia's arms,
To die in raptures, or diffolve in charms,
Quick to the blifsful, happy mansion fly,
Where all is one continu'd extafy.
Delia impatiently expects you there:
And fure you will not disappoint the fair.
None but the impotent or old would ftay,
When Love invites, and Beauty calls away.

Oh! you convey, said I, dear charming boy,
Into my foul a ftrange disorder'd joy.
I would, but dare not, your advice purfue;
I've promis'd Reason, and I must be true,
Reafon's the rightful emprefs of the foul;
Does all exorbitant defires control;
Checks every wild excurfion of the mind,
By her wife dictates happily confin'd:
And he that will not her commands obey,
Leaves a fafe convoy in a dangerous fea.
True, I love Delia to a vaft excefs,
But I must try to make my paffion lefs;
Try if I can, if poffible, I will,
For I have vow'd, and must that vow fulfil.
Oh! had I not, with what a vigorous flight
Could I purfue the quarries of delight!
How could I prefs fair Delia in these arms,
Till I diffolv'd in love, and the in charms!
But now no more muft I her beauties view;
Yet tremble at the thought to leave her too.
What would I give, I might my flame allow!
But 'tis forbid by Reason, and a vow;
Two mighty obftacles: though Love of old
Has broke through greater, ftronger powers control'
Should I offend, by high example taught,
'T would not be an inexpiable fault,
The crimes of malice have found grace above,
And fure kind Heaven will spare the crimes of Love.
Could't thou, my angel, but inftru&t me how
I might be happy, and not break my vow;
Or, by fome fubtle art, diffolve the chain;
You'd foon revive my dying hopes again.
Reafon and Love, I know, could ne'er agree;
Both would command, and both fuperior be,
Reafon 's fupported by the finewy force
Of folid argument, and wife difcourfe;
But Love pretends to use no other arms
Than foft impreffions, and perfuafive charms,
One must be disobey'd; and fhall I prove
A rebel to my Reafon, or to Love?
But then, fuppofe I fhould my flame purfus,
Delia may be unkind, and faithlefs too;
Reject my paffion with a proud difdain,
And fcorn the love of fuch an humble fwain:
Then fhould I labour under mighty grief,
Beyond all hopes or profpect of relief.
So that, methinks, 'tis fafer to obey
Right Reason, though the bears a rugged fway,
Than Love's foft rule, whofe fubjects undergo,
Early or late, too fad a share of woe.
Can I fo foon forget that wretched crew,
Reason just now expos'd before my view?
If Delia should be cruel, I must be
A fad partaker of their misery.
But your encouragements fo strongly move,
I'm almoft tempted to purfue my love:
For fure no treacherous designs should dwell
In one that argues and perfuades fo well;

For what could Love by my deftruction gain?
Love's an immortal god, and I a fwain;
And fure I may without fufpicion truft
A god, for gods can never be unjust.

Right you conclude, reply'd the smiling boy;
Love ruins none, 'tis men themselves destroy;
And thofe vile wretches which you lately faw,
Tranfgrefs'd his rules, as well as Reafon's law.
They're not Love's fubjects, but the flaves of Luft;
Nor is their punishment fo great as juft.
For Love and Luft effentially divide,
Like day and night, Humility and Pride;
One darkness hides, t'other does always thine;
This of infernal make, and that divine.
Reason no generous paffion does oppose;
'Tis Luft (not Love) and Reason that are foes.
She bids you fcorn a base inglorious flame,
Black as the gloomy hade from whence it came:
In this her precepts fhould obedience find;
But yours is not of that ignoble kind.
You err in thinking fhe would difapprove
The brave purfuit of honorable love:

And therefore judge what's harmless an offence;
Invert her meaning, and mistake her fenfe.
She could not fuch infipid counfel give,
As not to love at all; 'tis not to live;
But, where bright virtue and true beauty lies,
And that in Delia, charming Delia's eyes.
Could you contented fee th' angelic maid
In old Alexis' dull embraces laid?

Or rough-hewn Tityrus poffefs those charms,
Which are an heaven, the heaven of Delia's arms?
Confider, youth, what tranfport you forego,
The most intire felicity below;
Which is by fate alone referv'd for you:
Monarchs have been deny'd; for monarchs fue.
I own 'tis difficult to gain the prize;
Or 't would be cheap and low in noble eyes:
But there is one foft minute, when the mind
Is left unguarded, waiting to be kind;
Which the wife lover understanding right,
Steals in like day upon the wings of light.
You urge your vow, but can thofe vows prevail,
Whofe firft foundation and whose reason fail?
You vow'd to leave fair Delia; but you thought
Your paffion was a crime, your flame a fault.
But fince your judgment err'd, it has no force
To bind at all, but is diffolv'd of courfe;
And therefore hesitate no longer here,
But banish all the dull remains of fear.
Dare you be happy, youth; but dare, and be;
I'll be your convoy to the charming she.
What! ftill irrefolute? debating ftill?
View her, and then forfake her if you will.

I'll go, faid I; once more I'll venture all;
"Tis brave to perish by a noble fall.
Beauty no mortal can refift; and Jove
Laid by his grandeur, to indulge his love.
Reafon, if I do err, my crime forgive:
Angels alone without offending live.
I go aftray but as the wife have done ;
And act a folly which they did not shun.

Then we, defcending to a spacious plain,
Were foon faluted by a numerous train

Of happy lovers, who confum'd their hours,
With conftant jollity, in fhady bowers.
There I beheld the bleft variety

Of joy, from all corroding troubles free:
Each follow'd his own fancy to delight;
Though all went different ways, yet all went right.
None err'd, or mifs'd the happiness he fought;
Love to one centre every twining brought.
We pafs'd through numerous pleasant fields and glades,
By murmuring fountains, and by peaceful fhades;
Till we approach'd the confines of the wood,
Where mighty Love's immortal temple stood;
Round the cœleftial fane, in goodly rows,
And beauteous order, amorous myrtle grows;
Beneath whofe fhade expecting lovers wait
For the kind minute of indulgent fate;
Each had his guardian Cupid, whose chief care,
By fecret motions, was to warm the fair;
To kindle eager longings for the joy;

To move the flow, and to incline the coy.

The glorious fabric charm'd my wondering fight;
Of vast extent, and of prodigious height:
The cafe was marble, but the polish'd stone
With fuch an admirable luftre fhone,
As if fome architect divine had ftrove
T'outdo the palace of imperial Jove;
The ponderous gates of maffy gold were made,
With di'monds of a mighty fize inlaid;
Here ftood the winged guards, in order plac'd,
With fhining darts and golden quivers grac'd:
As we approach'd, they clapp'd their joyful wings,
And cry'd aloud, Tune, tune your warbling ftrings;
The grateful youth is come, to facrifice
At Delia's altar to bright Delia's eyes;
With harmony divine his foul infpire,
That he may boldly touch the facred fire;
And ye that wait upon the blufhing fair,
Cæleftial incenfe and perfumes prepare;
While our great god her panting bofom warms,
Refines her beauties, and improves her charms.

Entering the fpacious dome, my ravish'd eyes
A wondrous fcene of glory did furprize:
The riches, fymmetry, and brightness, all
Did equally for admiration call!
But the description is a labour fit
For none beneath a laureat angel's wit.

Amidst the temple was an altar made
Of folid gold, where adoration 's paid;
Here I perform'd the ufual rites with fear,
Not daring boldly to approach too near;
Till from the god a fmiling Cupid came,
And bid me touch the confecrated flame:
Which done, my guide my eager fteps convey'd
To the apartment of the beauteous maid.
Before the entrance was her altar rais'd,
On pedeftals of polish'd marble plac'd,
By it her guardian Cupid always ftands,
Who troops of miffionary Loves command:
To him, with foft addreffes all repair:
Each for his captive humbly begs the fair:
Though ftill in vain they importun'd; for he
Would give encouragement to none but me.
There ftands the youth, he cry'd, muft take a blifs,
The lovely Delia can be none but his ;

Fate

Fate has felected him; and mighty Love
Confirms below what that decrees above.
Then prefs no more; there 's not another swain
On earth, but Strephon, can bright Delia gain.
Kneel, youth, and with a grateful mind renew
Your vows; fwear you 'll eternally be true.
But if you dare be falfe, dare perjur'd prove,
You'll find, in fure revenge, affronted Love
As hot, as fierce, as terrible, as Jove.

Hear me, ye gods, faid I, now hear me fwear,
By all that's facred, and by all that 's fair!
If I prove falfe to Delia, let me fall

The common obloquy, condemn'd by all!
Let me the utmost of your vengeance try;
Forc'd to live wretched, and unpity'd die!

Then he expos'd the lovely fleeping maid,
Upon a couch of new-blown rofes laid.
The blushing colour in her cheeks exprefs'd
What tender thoughts infpir'd her heaving breast.
Sometimes a figh half-fmother'd ftole away;
Then the would Strephon, charming Strephon, fay;
Sometimes the, fmiling, cry'd, You love 'tis true;
But will you always, and be faithful too?
Ten thoufand graces play'd about her face;
Ten thousand charms attending every grace:
Each admirable feature did impart
A fecret rapture to my throbbing heart.
The nymph imprifon'd in the brazen tower,
When Jove defcended in a golden shower,
Lefs beautiful appear'd, and yet her eyes
Brought down that god from the neglected fkies.
So moving, fo transporting was the fight;
So much a goddefs Delia feem'd, fo bright;
My ravish'd foul, with fecret wonder fraught,
Lay all diffolv'd in extafy of thought.

Long time I gaz'd: but, as I trembling drew
Nearer, to make a more obliging view,
It thunder'd loud, and the ungrateful noife
Wak'd me, and put an end to all my joys.

THE FORTUNATE COMPLAINT.

A

て

S Strephon, in a wither'd cypress shade,
For anxious thought and fighing lovers made,
Revolving lay upon his wretched state,

And the hard ufage of too partial Fate;
Thus the fad youth complain'd: Once happy fwain,
Now the most abject shepherd of the plain!
Where's that harmonious concert of delights,
Thofe peaceful days, and pleasurable nights,
That generous mirth and noble jollity,
Which daily made the dancing minutes flee?
Difpers'd and banish'd from my troubled breast;
Nor leave me one fhort interval of reft.

Why do I profecute a hopeless flame,
And play in torment fuch a lofing game?
All things confpire to make my ruin fure:
When wounds are mortal, they admit no cure.
But Heaven fometimes does a miraculous thing,
When our laft hope is just upon the wing;
And in a moment drives thofe clouds away,
Whofe fullen darkness hid a glorious day.

*Danaë.

Why was I born, or why do I furvive; To be made wretched only, kept alive? Fate is too cruel in the harth decree, That I muft live, yet live in mifery.

Are all its pleafing happy moments gone?

Muft Strephon be unfortunate alone?

On other fwains it lavishly beftows;

On them each nymph neglected favour throws:
They meet compliance ftill in every face,

And lodge their paffions in a kind embrace;
Obtaining from the foft incurious maid
True love for counterfeit, and gold for lead.
Succefs on Mævius always does attend;
Inconftant fortune is his conftant friend:
He levels blindly, yet the mark does hit;
And owes the victory to chance, not wit.
But, let him conquer ere one blow he ftruck;
I'd not be Mævius, to have Mævius' luck.
Proud of my fate, I would not change my chains
For all the trophies purring Mævius gains;
But rather ftill live Delia's flave, than be
Like Mævius filly, and like Mævius free.
But he is happy, loves the common road;
And, pack-horfe like, jogs on beneath his load.
If Phyllis peevish or unkind does prove,
It ne'er disturbs his grave mechanic love.
A little joy his languid flame contents,
And makes him eafy under all events.
But when a paffion's noble and fublime,
And higher ftill would every moment climb;
If 't is accepted with a juft return,
The fire's immortal, will for ever burn;
And with fuch raptures fills the lover's breast,
That faints in paradife are fearce more bleft.

But I lament my miferies in vain;
For Delia hears me, pitilefs, complain.
Suppofe the pities, and believes me true,
What fatisfaction can from thence accrue,
Unless her pity makes her love me too?
Perhaps the loves ('t is but perhaps, I fear,
For that's a bleffing can 't be bought too dear)
If the has fcruples that oppofe her will,
I muft, alas! be miferable ftill.

Though, if the loves, those scruples foon will fly
Before the reasoning of the Deity:

For, when love enters, he will rule alone,
And fuffer no co-partner in his throne;
And thofe falfe arguments that would repel
His high injunctions, teach us to rebel.

What method can poor Strephon then propound,
To cure the bleeding of his fatal wound,
If fhe, who guided the vexatious dart,
Refolves to cherish and increase the smart?
Go, youth, from thefe unhappy plains remove,
Leave the purfuit of unsuccessful love:
Go, and to foreign fwains thy griefs relate,
Tell them the cruelty of frowning fate;
Tell them the noble charms of Delia's mind,
Tell them how fair, but tell them how unkind.
And when few years thou haft in forrow (pent
(For fure they cannot be of large extent);
In prayers for her thou lov`ft, resign thy breath,
And blefs the minute gives thee ease and death.

Here paus'd the fwain, when Delia driving by Her bleating flock to fome fresh pasture nigh,

By Love directed, did her fteps convey
Where Strephon, wrapp'd in filent forrow, lay,
As foon as he perceiv'd the beauteous maid,
He rose to meet her, and thus, trembling, faid:

When humble fuppliants would the gods appease,
And in fevere afflictions beg for ease,
With conftant importunity they fue,
And their petitions every day renew;
Grow ftill more earnest as they are deny'd,
Nor one well-weigh'd expedient leave untry'd,
Till Heaven thofe bleffings they enjoy'd before,
Not only does return, but gives them more.

O, do not blame me, Delia! if I prefs
So much, and with impatience, for redrefs.
My ponderous griefs no ease my foul allow;
For they are next t' intolerable now:

How fhall I then fupport them, when they grow
To an excefs, to a distracting woe?
Since you 're endow'd with a celestial mind,
Relieve like Heaven, and like the gods be kind.
Did you perceive the torments I endure,
Which you first caus'd, and you alone can cure,
They would your virgin foul to pity move,
And pity may at last be chang'd to love.
Some fwains, I own, impofe upon the fair,
And lead th' incautious maid into a fnare;
But let them fuffer for their perjury,
And do not punish others crimes with me.
If there's fo many of our fex untrue,
Yours fhould more kindly ufe the faithful few;
Though innocence too oft incurs the fate
Of guilt, and clears itself fometimes too late.
Your nature is to tendernefs inclin'd;
And why to me, to me alone unkind?

A common love, by other perfons fhewn,
Meets with a full return; but mine has none:
Nay, fcarce believ'd, though from deceit as free
As angels flames can for archangels be.
A paffion feign'd, at no repulfe is griev'd,
And values little if it be n't receiv'd:
But, love fincere refents the fmalleft fcorn,
And the unkindness does in fecret mourn.

Sometimes I please myself, and think you are
Too good to make me wretched by defpair;
That tenderness, which in your foul is plac'd,
Will move you to compaffion fure at laft.
But, when I come to take a fecond view
Of my own merits, I defpond of you:
For what can Delia, beauteous Delia, fee,
To raife in her the leaft efteem for me:
I've nought that can encourage my address;
My fortune 's little, and my worth is lefs:
But, if a love of the fublimeft' kind
Can make impreffion on a generous mind;
If all has real value that 's divine,

There cannot be a nobler flame than mine.

My torments ftill do with my paffion grow; The more I love, the more I undergo. But fuffer me no longer to remain Beneath the preffure of so vaft a pain. My wound requires fome speedy remedy: Delays are fatal, when defpair is nigh. Much I've endur'd, much more than I can tell; Too much, indeed, for one that loves fo well. When will the end of all my forrows be? Can you not love? I'm fure you pity me. But, if I muft new miferies fuftain, And be condemn'd to more and stronger pain, I'll not accufe you, fince my fate is fuch, I please too little, and I love too much.

Strephon, no more; the blushing Delia faid, Excufe the conduct of a timorous maid: Now I'm convinc'd your love 's fublime and true, Such as I always wifh'd to find in you. Each kind expreffion, every tender thought, A mighty tranfport in my bofom wrought: And though in fecret I your flame approv'd, I figh'd, and griev'd, but durft uot own I lov'd. Though now-O Strephon! be so kind to guess, What shame will not allow me to confefs.

The youth, encompass'd with a joy fo bright, Had hardly ftrength to bear the vaft delight. By too fublime an extafy poffeft,

He trembled, gaz'd, and clasp'd her to his breaft ; Ador'd the nymph that did his pain remove, Vow'd endless truth, and everlasting love.

STREPHON'S LOVE FOR DELIA JUSTIFIED. In an Epiftle to Celadon.

LL men have follies, which they blindly trace

A Through the dark turnings of a dubious maac.

But happy thofe, who, by a prudent care,
Retreat betimes from the fallacious fnare.

The eldeft fons of Wisdom were not free
From the fame failure you condemn in me:
They lov'd, and, by that glorious paffion led,
Forgot what Plato and themselves had faid.
Love triumph'd o'er thofe dull, pedantic rules,
They had collected from the wrangling schools,
And made them to his noble sway submit,
In fpite of all their learning, art, and wit:
Their grave, ftarch'd morals, then unuseful prov'dz
Thefe dufty characters he foon remov'd;
For, when his fhining fquadrons came in view,
Their boafted reafon murmur'd, and withdrew;
Unable to oppofe their mighty force
With phlegmatic refolves, and dry discourse.

If, as the wifeft of the wife have err'd,
I go aftray, and am condemn'd unheard;
My faults you too feverely reprehend,
More like a rigid cenfor than a friend.
Love is the monarch paffion of the mind,
Knows no fuperior, by no laws confin'd,
But triumphs ftill, impatient of control,
O'er all the proud endowments of the foul,

You own'd my Delia, friend, divinely fair,
When in the bud her native beauties were;
6 [C]

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