OVID'S ART of LOVE. WITH Hero and Leander OF MUSAEUS. From the GREEK.  
Translated by several Hands.  
— Probet Haec Octavius Optimus, atque  
Fuscus, & haec utinam Viscorum laudet uterque!  Hor. 
LONDON, Printed for J. T. and are to be Sold by the Booksellers of London and Westminster, 1692.   

OVID DE ARTE AMANDI: OR, The Art of Love. THE FIRST BOOK.  
Me Venus Artificem tenero praefecit Amori,  
Typhis, & Automedon dicat Amoris ego.  OVID. 

IF in this Town an unflusht Puny be,  
Unpractised in Love's weighty Mystery,  
Let him a while these powerful Precepts prove,  
And proceed Master in the Art of Love.  
By Art swift Ships to their loved Port arrive,  
By Art our Chariots in the Circus drive:  
And who in Love would his great end attain,  
Must guide the Boy too with an Artful Rein.  
Automedon by Chariots got a Name,  
And steering Argo purchased Typhis Fame;  
Great Venus to my Charge commits her Son,  
Call me his Typhis, his Automedon.  
Tho the wild Thing my Counsel oft reject,  
Yet tender years excuse the Boys neglect,  
And promise for the future more respect.  
Thus Reverend Chiron (as 'tis said) of old,  
To Music did his young Achilles' mould.  
The gentle Art his roughness soon refined,  
Softening the growing Passions of his Mind.  
He, whom all sides so much, so often feared,  
Stood then in awe of that old Reverend Bard.  
Those Hands by which great Hector after fell,  
Submitted then t'an angry Tutor's will.  
Chiron t' Achilles, I Love's Tutoram,  
Both stubborn Boys, both born of heavenly Dame.  
Yet even the stubborn Ox is brought to blow,  
The generous Horse the Curb to undergo.  
Love to my Menage shall at last submit,  
Shall bear the Yoke, or shall endure the Bit.  
Tho I severely may too often feel  
His fiercest Flames and most revengeful Steel,  
Yet still the deeper me his Arrows wound,  
The greater Rage shall in my Flames be found;  
The more experienced, better armed I'll be,  
T'avenge past wounds, and future to foresee.  
Myself by Heaven inspired I'll not pretend,  
No flattering Augurys the Work commend.  
No Clio e'er (I'll owned) to me appeared,  
While I in Ascra's Vales sang to my Herd.  
The Use alone does these Essays produce,  
The Universal, Beneficial Use.  
May the great Queen of Love alone preside,  
While I her thro-paced Poet am obeyed.  
But fly my words, ye Chaster Ladies fly;  
Whom Marriage Vows, or Virgin Honour ty.  
I dare not tempt fair Innocence astray,  
Or seduced Virtue to Disgrace betray.  
Nor would my harmless, lewd, well-meaning Song  
Provoke the Great, or Jealous Kinsmen wrong.  
I no such dangerous Intrigues would teach,  
But pleasant Stealths, yet lawful Pleasure preach.  
Their private Lordship's undisturbed may lie,  
While, Heaven be praised, the Common Fields supply  
Sufficient Quarry for my Muse to fly.   

First then, Young Lover Voluntier, who'd be  
In Love's Militia now enrolled by me,  
First of thy Love a worthy Object find,  
Next to Compliance work her gentle Mind:  
And if long Life thy happy Passion crown,  
That one Point gained, the mighty Work is done.  
To keep this Method, trace these ways I'll strive,  
And to these ends shall all my Precepts drive.  
Whilst thou'rt yet free, and at thy own command,  
Let a nice Judgement thy first Choice befriend.  
Choose one so worthy, thou may'st justly say,  
've got, and best deserve my Heart away.  
Expect not she should drop down from above,  
And like a Gaudy Meteor court thy Love.  
No Mistress e'er was looked for from the Clouds,  
Your Eye must single'r from the meaner Crowds.  
The Huntsman knows where proper Toils to spread,  
Where timorous Deer, where dreadful Boars are fed.  
The Skilful Fowler the used Haunts of Prey,  
The Patiented Angler where the Fish do play.  
And thou, who wouldst enjoy a lasting Fame,  
Must know the Haunts and Concourse of thy Game.  
I send thee not to tempt the Seas or Wind,  
Prescribe no Pilgrimage this Heaven to find.  
Let far-fetched Indian Beauty Perseus please,  
And dear bought Helen give her Trojan ease;  
Rome can such Eyes, so numberless supply,  
You'd swear 'twere Beauty's Grand Monopoly.  
Count all the Grains which fruitful Autumns bear,  
The Fish i'th' Sea, the Birds that swim i'th' Air.  
Count all the Stars those endless Sums of Gold,  
Then may the Beauties of thy Rome be told.  
If blooming Years, and untaught Beauty please,  
Those raw untaught Things may be found with ease.  
If in the Prime they more delight your Eye,  
Ten thousand in the Prime of Beauty vie;  
You'll be confounded with variety.  
Or it some grave, some serious Piece you'd have,  
You'll find even some so serious, and so grave.   

Be sure to linger at due time of day  
In Pompey's Porch a few lose hours away.  
And fail not at that Temple to appear,  
Where o'er Adonis Venus drops a Tear.  
At Isis' Temple frequently be seen,  
She many makes what she to Jove has been.  
In Noisy Courts those daring Eyes are found,  
Which in the face of Public Justice wound.  
Resistless Beauty there the Lawyer awes,  
He'd put a Caveat in his proper Cause.  
There often words the greatest Pleader fail,  
H'has Business of his own, and can't prevail.  
While Venus smiling from her Temple spies  
The Patron cringing in a Clients Guise.  
But most of all the theatres frequent,  
There thou may'st sat thy greedy Fancy's bent;  
May'st find some worthy of a constant Love;  
Some powerful only to divert not move.  
As hurrying Aunts in busy numbers room,  
While each removes his little Harvest home:  
Or as the Bees in swarms delight to dwell,  
Where fragrant Flowers and stores of Honey cell.  
So to New Plays the finest Women haste,  
The plenty oft to me has spoiled the Feast.  
No slight Engagements do them thither call;  
The Play, the Sparks, and to outshine 'em all.  
Great Romulus these Plays did first ordain,  
When ravished Sabine Wives supplied his Men.  
No well-built House in those unpolisht Days,  
Or curious Scenes excused the rough-drawn Plays:  
Some broken Boughs in rude Disorder placed,  
Were the Wild Scenes, his Rustic Op'ra graced.  
On the green Turf the rough Spectator sat,  
Sheltering his grisled Head with leaves from Heat.  
Each to himself the while designs his Lass,  
And fresh Resolves his altered Fancy pass.  
While Tuscan Hind, shaking his Head, begun  
On squeaking Reeds the lewd Fantastic Tune.  
A Lydian Maurice to it shakes his Feet,  
In Dance as odd and wretched as the Meet.  
While Clamours and Applauses filled the Air,  
(No Arts, or Factions bought Applauses there.)  
The sign is given, nor can they longer stay,  
With violent Hands they seized the trembling Prey,  
As timorous Doves the hungry Eagles fly,  
Or tender Lambs their ravenous Enemy.  
No less did these the boisterous Soldier's dread:  
All Life and Colour from their Faces fled,  
In all was found an Universal Fear,  
Which in each Face a  Shape did wear.  
Some their Rich Locks, and Beauteous Faces tear,  
Revenging on themselves the Wrongs they bear.  
Forced by an En'my to resign the Place,  
They waste the Treasures, and the Works deface.  
Others the Air with fruitless Laments wound,  
The Groves and pitying Rocks their Cries rebound,  
The Men alone unmoved resist the sound.  
Some mournful Sighs and silent Tears let fall,  
Others in vain their helpless Mothers call.  
Here some complaining, others in amaze;  
There one would fly, another doubting stays.  
The ravished Maids by force are dragged away,  
And some their treacherous miseries betray,  
Adding new Beauty to their Clouded Day.  
Great Romulus could humour Soldiers best,  
On such Encouragement myself I'd list.  
And from that time the Theatres remain,  
Renowned for Killing Eyes, and Lovers slain.  
Next, let the Horse-race ne'er escape your sight,  
The Circ' has great Convenience for Delight.  
No Mimic Signs need tell the Secret there,  
Nor Artful Nods back Assignations bear.  
Place thyself boldly next the tempting She,  
The Priv'ledged Place allows that Liberty,  
To usher then thy new Acquaintance in,  
Inquire and tell the News till they begin.  
Fail not to learn whose Horses run that day,  
And if she favours one, incline that way.  
Or when the Crowd and spurring Youths appear,  
Applaud, encourage, and dislike with her.  
If the Dust chance to settle on her Gown,  
Be ready still to brush or shake it down.  
Or though no Dust be so presuming found,  
Find the No-dust, and shake it on the Ground.  
The least Occasions for thy Service take,  
If true Occasions fail, pretended make.  
If her long Train fall loosely on the Floor,  
Do thou the Train to her fair Hands restore.  
Be careful too lest those who sit behind,  
With their rude Knees her tender Back offend.  
These little Things with that soft Sex prevail,  
Nay the least Offices most seldom fail.  
To some of mighty consequence t'has been,  
To've placed the Cushion well for her to lean.  
Others have gained the Point, have been the Men,  
For dexterous menaging the Lady's Fan.   

Thus far the Circus to th' Amour makes way;  
Or the famed Area where the Fencer's play.  
Oft Venus' Son has in that Area fought,  
And he who came to see a wound has caught.  
While he talks loud, fools with her Hand and smiles,  
And proffers Wagers which the other soils;  
Himself has smarted by a sudden Blow,  
Has born his part in the unhappy Show.  
When Caesar lately his Mock-Sea-fight made,  
And meeting Ships their Waving Flags displayed:  
From all parts Youth and flocking Beauty pressed,  
Rome seemed of all her Vassal World possessed.  
But oh! who 'scap'd in that unlucky Day?  
What Crowds of Slaves did Beauty lead away?   

New Eagles now their threatening Wings display,  
Raised to complete the Universal Sway.  
The farthest East shall yield to Roman Steel,  
And Parthians our severest Vengeance feel.  
Rejoice ye Crassis, now, blessed Shades rejoice,  
Who bravely fell a Noble Sacrifice.  
A Princely Youth comes to revenge your Blood,  
Great 'bove his years, and 'bove his Greatness good.  
His tender years with early Honour's bloom.  
And grasp at hasting Conquests, e'er they come.  
A Godlike Genius, and Heroic Mind,  
Attended with this constant proof we find:  
They pass those Stops we make with brave Disdain,  
And seem to wait the slow-paced years with pain.  
The Infant Hercules with Serpents strove,  
His very Cradle proved his Claim to Jove.  
May thy Great Father's Fortunes lead thee on,  
And may they ne'er, Blest Youth, thy Side disown!  
The Conscious Poisons which their Arrows head,  
Show what ill helps a guilty Cause will need:  
While Justice draws the Nobler Sword you wear,  
And o'er your Standards Right and Truth appear.  
In the nice Balance of strict Justice weighed,  
Their Cause is vanquished, and thy Power obeyed.  
Methinks, I spy (Prophetic Poets see  
Half-formed Events, which in their Causes be.)  
I spy the Wreaths on thy Victorious Brow,  
And haste to pay a Loyal Poet's Vow.  
Farewell fond Love, and this soft Darling Verse,  
Great Numbers shall thy greater Deeds rehearse.  
I'll draw thee speaking at the Army's Head,  
Confirming Valour, and expelling Dread.  
But oh! my Thoughts, I fear, will ill express  
The Charms, the Life, the Soul of thy Address.  
I'll draw thy Romans dreadful to the Sight.  
And Parthians shooting in their scattered Flight.  
Base Parthians of your wished success despair,  
That Form of War does no good Omen bear.  
The day shall come, when with thy Vanquished Prize,  
(O Wonder and Delight of all our Eyes!)  
Thou shalt return with Honour from the War,  
And Milk-white Steeds draw thy Triumphant Carr,  
Before their great Commanders shall appear:  
Secured with Chains from their own Native Fear.  
The Youth shall flock, and Ladies bless that day.  
While Lambent Joy shall on all Faces play.   

If thy fair Neighbour prove so curious there,  
T'enquire what Names the Captive Princes bear,  
What Towns those Mystic Pageants represent,  
What Hills, or Rivers are by th' other meant?  
Answer to all; what she ne'er questioned tell;  
Tho stranger to the things, yet know 'em well.  
This is Euphrates with green Sedges crowned,  
That blew-lockt Tigris for swift Course renowned.  
Armenians these, this Country Persis call,  
And this some City in an Eastern Vale.  
This, and this, Princes make, and Titles name;  
And plausible at least, though false ones, frame.   

Much Love too has begun at Public Feasts,  
Where more than Wine oft warms th' unguarded Guests.  
When Fumes of Wine have dampt his flagging Plumes,  
The Boy sinks in, and settles where he comes.  
He wildly shakes his dropping Wings o'er all,  
But woe the Breasts on which those Drops do fall!  
Wine Courage gives; Wine for her Love prepares;  
Wine drowns the Thoughts of all uneasy Cares.  
Mirth revels then; poor Men talk loud and great;  
And Grief is banished the Free happy State.  
Then Truth in Words, and only then, is found,  
And Plainness in our Actions does abound;  
The mighty god does all Disguises drown.  
Then Beauty-struck have many Lovers bled,  
While Wine has Love, one Flame another, fed.  
But Thou with Caution trust the treacherous Light,  
Suspect those partial Judges, Wine and Night.  
Paris by day did the Great Rivals view,  
When he declared the Ball to Venus due.  
Night hides all Faults, does all Defects conceal;  
And every Hag has power then to kill.  
Why should I tyre thy worn out patience more,  
With Haunts unnamed, and numberless in store:  
Or to the Bajae, or the Bath direct;  
Or the Famed Wells which barren Wives affect.  
There some, who with them no ill symptoms brought,  
Have by their Curious Folly Favours caught.  
And every Morn in vain the Waters blame,  
That quench not, but increase a Lover's Flame.   

Thus far my Verse has taught thy Game to find,  
And where to spread thy Toils to take the Hind.  
The next Task is, what little Arts to use,  
The doubting, timorous Creature to seduce.  
I charge ye, Lovers all, I charge ye attend,  
And all your Wishes, your best Wishes lend.   

First, In th' Address a good Assurance show,  
Believe all Mortal, and you'll find 'em so.  
Sooner shall Birds leave chirping in the Spring,  
In Autumn Grasshoppers forbear to sing.  
The generous Dog neglect his wont Prey,  
And timorous Hares before him safely play,  
Than Woman once assailed, shall keep the Field,  
Or gently soothed by Youth forget to yield.  
She whom you least suspect, you know so well,  
You'd swear for her, if pressed, you'll find she will!  
As us, those pleasant Stealths do them delight;  
But they best hid the greedier Appetite.  
'Twere well would Men a while forbear to ask,  
How soon would they embrace the needful Task!  
So neighing Mares before their Horse's sport,  
And stately Bulls, the wanton Females, court.  
Our moderate Passion claims a gentle Name,  
A lasting Fire, yet no Devouring Flame,  
While Byblis does of Impious Fires complain,  
But a Love Knot ends, with her Life, the Pain.  
Myrrah too far her Father's Love enjoyed,  
And now her Blushes her own Bark does hid.  
Hot Scylla stole her Father's Purple Hair,  
And her lewd Lust does Dogs and Monsters wear.  
An hundred Instances I might produce,  
But let One here suffice for present use.   

A Noble Bull once fed near Shady Ide,  
The Envy of the Herds, and of those Plains the Pride.  
One Spot alone adorned his awful Brow,  
The rest was a continued Robe of Snow.  
Cydonian him, and Cnossian Heifers please,  
A full Seragl ' of Beauteous Mistresses.  
The Cretan Queen too by his Form subdued,  
With Jealous Eyes the Rival Heifers viewed.  
(I tell known Truths, such as Crete scarce denies,  
Crete famed for Cities much, but more for Lies.  
She strips fresh Leaves, & new-mowed Pastures rakes,  
And her own Hand the welcome present makes.  
She loves t'attend, to dwell among the Herds,  
Nor ought her State, or Mino's, now regards.  
In vain, fond Queen, you rich Embroid'ry use,  
Your rude Gallant no such Distinction knows.  
In vain you bring your flattering Glasses there,  
And in new shapes so often set your Hair.  
At least believe what your own Glasses show.  
Believe no Horns on that fair Forehead grow.  
Oft, while she saw some wanton Heifer play,  
Her heedless Passion was o'r-heard to say,  
(Scorn on her Look, and Anger in her Word.)  
" And can that Creature please my Dearest Lord?  
" Yet see it dances o'er the tender Grass,  
" And, silly Thing! no doubt, pretends to please!  
Then damned the Beast to the laborious Blow,  
Or made her die, to pay some trivial Vow.  
And while her cruel Eyes enjoyed the Sight,  
Her Tongue would share the barbarous Delight.  
Go (said she) happy Rival to thy Queen!  
Go, please the Thing thy Lady loves again!  
In all these Crimes did Woman Lust engage,  
'Tis fiercer much than ours, and more a Rage.  
Despair not then to make them all comply,  
You'll find scarce One in Ten who dares deny.  
Yet those who yield, or stand a faint Denial,  
Indiff'rently all enjoy the Trial.  
Or should the end thy flattered Hopes defeat,  
Still there is left thee a secure Retreat.  
But why shouldst thou retreat, when they agree,  
In Good and Common Principles with Thee?  
And hold thy Change, and Dear Variety!  
Their Neighbour's Field still brings a Plenteous Birth,  
While their poor Close is dry and worn-out Earth!  
Their Neighbour's Kine can half the Town supply,  
While they want Milk, and must be forced to buy.   

But first an Interest in her Maid secure,  
She may thy easier Access procure.  
And choose the nearest to her Lady's Heart,  
Who in all Frolicks bears a Second part;  
The Confident where she secure esteems  
Her losest Wishes, and her softest Dreams.  
With Promises and Oaths this Out-work win,  
And you with ease may gain the Fort within.  
Let her discover when sh' unguarded lies,  
And tell the proper Minute to surprise.  
When neither Cares nor Griefs depress her Mind,  
Love unperceived does a free Entrance find.  
Troy while oppressed, the famed long Siege maintained,  
One Holiday the Horse's Entrance gained.  
A well-timed Visit may thy Business do,  
While some new Miss fits heavy on her Brow.  
Call him ungrateful, Traitor to her Love,  
Let every Circumstance his Gild improve.  
Raise her swollen Passion, and insinuate then  
The sweet Revenge on such a Perjured Man!  
Next Morn her Woman while she combs her Head,  
May urge and second what o'er Night you said.  
Then to herself— And can there be no way,  
Ye Powers! such Matchless Falsehood to repay!  
Then mention you, and your fine Person praise,  
Your sweet Address, and most obliging ways.  
Then vow how much you're altered; how you sigh;  
And that for her you look pale and die.  
Appear yourself now e'er her Anger cool,  
The least Delay your fairest Hopes may fool.  
You'd know now whether I'd that Point admit,  
To bribe her Woman with a Taste of it.  
Consult for that the Dictates of your Sense,  
If it do well, or ill, is merely chance.  
She'll get a private Interest of her own;  
If not; your main Design goes on alone.  
Therefore make use of my approved Advice,  
Venture at all, and never break the Ice.  
But if, when the dear Billet she conveys,  
Her Face, as well as Conduct chance to please;  
First let her Lady bless thy ravished Sense,  
Then enjoy her as an Appurtenance.  
But one thing I enjoin you by my Art,  
Never attempt, or th'rowly act, this part.  
If once she share the Crime, you're sure to thrive,  
None e'er betray the Cheat by which they live.  
Then all their Words and Actions you shall have,  
What Pleasure this, and what Distaste that gave.  
Conceal but thy Intelligence with care,  
And all her Lady's Grand Arcana hear.   

All Months (we see) to Seedtime don't agree;  
All Seasons are not safe to put to Sea:  
Nor at all Times is flattered Beauty won,  
Oft the same Things, if duly timed, had done.  
If she prepare for Jovial Birthday Rites;  
Or the dear Calends in which Mars delights;  
Or if the Circ' unusual Riches show,  
Adorned with Spoils to Foreign Conquests due  
A luckier Minute for thy Business find,  
Brave not the Malice of the threatening Wind.  
Weather and Storms forbidden thy rash design,  
And all the Stars against thy Love combine.  
The Unexperienced Wretch who then puts out,  
Deserves that Shipwreck which his Folly bought.  
On that sad Day you may Reception gain,  
When Allia flowed with Gore of Romans slain;  
Or the strict Sabbath of the Scrup'lous Jew,  
A time unfit for aught but Love and You.  
Yet to her Birthday due Devotion pay,  
The Lover's Ancient, greatest Holiday.  
If you present her, choose that woeful Time,  
When a Wet Day has spoiled some Grand Design.  
A Present then will make thy Heaven clear,  
Scattering the Clouds which on her Face appear.  
Do what you can, sometimes she'll take that Hold,  
And try how much your Love outweighs your Gold.  
Woman that blessed sovereign Art has found,  
With his own Gold to ease her Lovers Wound!  
The Toy-man shall by Accident be there,  
And in your sight display his Costly Ware;  
She begs you'd look on them, and if you please,  
Lend your Advice, and show your Skill in these.  
Then eclipse your Cheek, or drops a melting Kiss;  
And would ye?— She strange taking has to This,  
Swears 'twould her Wish for ever satisfy:  
She wants it now, now is the Time to buy.  
You Loss at Play, or bad Returns pretend,  
But the kind Rascal will accept your Hand.  
Now she wants Money for her Birthday Treat,  
And must new Birth-days, when she will Create.  
Now she must cheat you with a lying Moon,  
How from her Ear she dropped the Richest Stone.  
Anon must borrow what she'll ne'er repay,  
This is unthankt for, merely thrown away.  
Their Endless Cheats to teach 'twere vain to try,  
An hundred Tongues could not perform th'Employ.   

At first with flattering Letters break the Way,  
Sound her good Humour, and thy Love convey.  
In these thy softest, tenderest Things produce,  
With all the Endearments Kindest Lovers use:  
Put off thy Quality (whatever thou art:)  
And humbly act the Pleading Suitors part.  
Thus Priam did, the surly Greek to please;  
Submissive Prayers the Angry Heavens appease.  
Yet promise fair, no harm is done by that,  
Fair Promises ne'er run out an Estate.  
If you're believed, Hope long her Head will fill,  
Hope a convenient, though deceitful Ill  
If once 've paid for't, she may well refuse;  
Sh'has made her Market, and can nothing lose.  
Yet seem just giving; though you nothing give;  
So barren Grounds the Farmer's Hopes deceive.  
S'enraged at's loss, the Gamester loses on,  
Till by the wheedling Dice he's quite undone.  
But the main end of all your toil and pain,  
Is the first Blessing gratis to obtain.  
When once her Love is a free Present made,  
Self Interest can't thy Property invade.  
Send then; but dress thy Passion with such Art,  
Thy written Pains may wound her tender Heart.  
Cydippe once the fatal Letter read,  
And found too late the Words her Heart betrayed;  
I charge ye, Roman youth, I charge ye all,  
('Tis I your Great Professor on you call,)  
Some years let Arts and noble Studies have,  
For greater Ends than trembling Gild to save.  
The People, Senate, Bench, shall then submit,  
But these are common small Effects of it;  
Beauty shall own the sovereign Power of Wit.  
But hid with care your Powerful Talon there,  
And strive not Fine and Florid to appear.  
Let Gawdy Fops to their Dear She's declaim,  
And to strained Figures wreck their tortured Flame.  
But never let thy Sense presume to fly,  
Beyond the Rules of Probability.  
Thy words be tender, yet familiar too,  
Nor Study aught, or Affectation show.  
If she unread return your Letter back;  
Hope still; nor let ill Luck your Purpose break.  
Only be constant to thy first Design,  
Were she Penelope she should be thine:  
Troy held out long, but did at last resign.  
But if she reads, and will no Answer give,  
Urge not an Answer; let her more receive.  
Who receives all, to write will soon be brought,  
Those Favours must by slow degrees be got.  
At first a Melancholy Piece you'll have,  
Desiring you such vain Requests would wave:  
Yet fears you should believe that they are vain,  
And hopes you'll have the Heart to try again.  
Such little Arts as these at Cards they use,  
To make us dare, they tell us we shall lose.  
Yet he that ventures oft defeats their Aim;  
They curse his Fortune, and yield up the Game.   

And after this, where e'er her Chair you meet,  
Make your Addresses in the open Street.  
But lest some treacherous Ear should hearth'offence,  
In doubtful Terms disguise thy private Sense.  
If she at night i'th' Portico appear,  
Choose the same Walks, and feign Delays with Her.  
Oft cross her way, as though by chance 'twere done,  
A Compliment the Rudeness may atone.  
And still near her at th' Theatre appear,  
Her Presence claims thy due Attendance there.  
There thou may'st feast thy Eyes with dear Delight,  
While Looks and Gestures thy Desires-indite,  
The secret Characters which Nature writes.  
The new-past Antic Dance to her commend,  
And fail not the poor Lover to befriend.  
Rise when she stands, and when she pleases sit,  
To lose the time at her Dispose submit.   

But be not nice to curl or set thy Hair,  
Paint not in hopes of being called the Fair.  
Let Rhea's Priests those Woman's Arts invade,  
For Softness and Effeminacy made.  
A free indifferency suits our Temper best;  
Theseus obtained his Lady though ill-drest.  
With joy the Goddess met Adonis' flame,  
Tho wild and rough, as his loved Woods he came.  
But for the little Niceties of Dress,  
Let Fops and Women their dear own possess.   

But Bacchus now requires my grateful Verse,  
An Amorous Adventure to rehearse;  
Who always aid to painful Lovers dealt;  
Favouring the Flames, whose rage himself had felt.   

Her woeful Fate on Dia's Foreign Shore,  
Forsaken Ariadne did deplore;  
Lose and neglected flew her Morning Gown,  
Naked her Feet, her lovely Locks hung down:  
And Theseus! Cruel Theseus! oft she said,  
But her Complaints to the Deaf Waves were made.  
On Theseus Name she called, and tore her Hair,  
But this Distraction made her look more Fair.  
She wept, nor did her Tears become her less,  
Charming she looked even in Sorrows Dress.  
She beat her Breasts, and cried, Perfidious He  
Is gone! What shall become of Helpless Me!  
What shall become of Me!— But here the sound  
Of Drums and Trumpets her loud Sorrows drown.  
And Troops of Frantic Bacchannals appear,  
Heightening her Grief with a new Scene of Fear.  
At first with pity she the Sight did view,  
Thinking some Theseus might have wronged them too  
Till the rough Satyrs next came leaping by,  
The Wild Attendants of this Deity.  
Silenus' on his Ass did first appear,  
Doting, and Drunk, and more a Brute than her.  
All their Dull Jests on Beast and Rider throw,  
And grieve and fret the Drunkard as they go.  
Such Madness and Disorder they invent,  
Th' unruly Power of Bacchus to present.  
The Youthful God behind the Tumult shines.  
His Chariot covered o'er with fruitful Vines,  
His Golden Curbs the harnessed Tiger's awe,  
Which with fierce Pride express what God they draw.  
Her Voice and Colour left her at the sight,  
And when she strove to fly, Fear stopped her Flight:  
" Madam, (so he gins) banish your Fear,  
" For Theseus lost, 've found a Deity here.  
" He, Faithless Man, abused your Constant Flame;  
" But Gods by Nature always are the same.  
This said, he leaped from his Triumphant Carr,  
Willing t'oblige the Lady's needless Fear.  
Then in his Arms (for how could she resist?)  
Possessed her Love, as Gods do what they list.  
Part of his Train loud Odes to Hymen sing,  
And part the Triumphs of their Mighty King.  
Thus the Fair Bride Immortal Joys did taste,  
Thus the Great God another Heaven possessed.   

Therefore if e'er when Mirth and Wine invite,  
The Dear Fair She shall thy next Neighbour sit,  
Much there in dubious Words you may let fly,  
Which She alone shall to herself apply.  
Or with spilt Wine upon the Table write,  
The softest Things thy hasty Thoughts indite.  
While unacquainted with the close Design,  
Sh'admits a Servant as she reads the Wine.  
Or let thy Eyes to hers thy Flames impart,  
They best Translate the Language of the Heart.  
It loses much, if the false Tongue declare it.  
Some sweet soft Grace in Looks we often dress,  
Whose Images faint Words could ne'er express.  
Observe to catch the Bowl from her fair Hand,  
And drinking where she kissed; the Wine commend.  
Observe to reach from the same Dish with Her,  
And let your Hand oft meet, and kiss Hers there.  
To gain the Husband be thy next Design,  
Make him thy Friend, and he will make her thine.  
From thy own Head to him thy Roses send;  
Begin his Health; or pledge your newmade Friend.  
Tho of low Rank, and meaner Quality,  
Make him first served, make him take place of thee.  
Or though his Talk betray some want of Sense,  
Yet sooth and second his Impertinence.  
No way more safe, none of more common use,  
Then to caress the Friend, the Man t'abuse.  
And this the Standard of thy Drinking make,  
That thy Feet trip not, or thy Tongue mistake.  
But most avoid abusive scurrilous Words,  
Too often seconded by Fatal Swords.  
Let Wit alone, and Pleasantness be found;  
And travel with the Wine the happy Round.  
If it oblige, be won to Sing, or Dance;  
Or whatever else Diversion may advance.  
Tho real Drunkenness oft your aim defeat,  
A well-feigned stammering proves a useful Cheat.  
Then the lose Words your wanton Tongue escape,  
You'll hear imputed to the Juice of th' Grape!  
Then your fair Neighbour t'all the Table praise,  
Praise the Blessed Man whom those soft Arms embrace.   

But now the Feast is done, the Guests remove,  
And free Access is made for you and Love.  
While the kind Hour admits to break your Mind,  
Let Rustic Bashfulness no entrance find.  
Fortune and Venus in that point agree,  
To help the Bold, and to advance the Free.  
'Twere vain Set Forms of Eloquence to show,  
Only begin, and all you say are so.  
Here you must act (at least) the Lover's part,  
Expressing lively to her Sense your Heart,  
Till at each Word she seems to feel the smart.  
Fear not of all an easy Faith to gain,  
For the whole Sex thinks they deserve your pain.  
The most Deformed Neglected Thing of all,  
Will find ye something she shall Beauty call.  
But oft true Passion does succeed the Cheat,  
And real Love displace the Counterfeit.  
Ye Ladies then to all, your Smiles dispense,  
'Twill soon be Love, which was at first pretence!  
But Thou, thy best Insinuations use,  
All thy proved Stock of Flatteries produce.  
Talk of Rich Hair, of Precious Darting Eyes,  
Of Snowy Breasts and Heavenly Fooleries.  
With Joy the Chaste their Beauty's praises hear,  
The Virgins strive with pain t'improve their Share.  
Juno herself for Conquest did contend,  
And Virgin Pallas to the Prize pretend.  
The Peacock praised, displays his painted Plumes,  
But hides his Pride if no Admirer comes.   

Yet spare no Vows, false Vows have often done,  
Fear not t'invoke a God to every one.  
Jove smiling hears the Perjuries of Love,  
And bids the Winds those Senseless Ties remove.  
Himself by Styx to Juno heretofore,  
A thousand little Falsities has sworn,  
And favours still the Lover Perjurer.  
'Tis good there should be Gods, and thence they are.  
And 'cause they are, 'tis good that we should fear.  
They sleep not unconcerned in slothful Ease,  
Keep Innocence, the Watchful Numen sees.  
Be true to Friendship, and to Heaven sincere,  
Your Hands from Blood or Bribery keep clear.  
But Woman only let your Vows deceive,  
Those Frauds alone just Heaven will forgive.  
You act but as the Instrument of Heaven.  
To punish Those so much to Cheating given.  
'Tis just That Perjured Sex with those should meet,  
Whose Falsehood may their Perjuries requite.  
Thus the Inventor of the Brazen Bull,  
First bellowed thence his own Prodigious Soul.  
Just Phalaris! who made the Monster's Heart  
Season the Horrid Offspring of his Art.   

And let her see some Tears upon your Eye,  
The strongest Heart could ne'er their Power defy.  
But if, like them, your Tears you can't command,  
Like them Dissembling, feign 'em with your Hand.  
What Novice can that weighty Point omit,  
With Kisses to recruit his falt'ring Wit?  
She'll strive at first, and call you naughty Man,  
But only strives, that you may seem to gain.  
Tho struggling often may divide the Bliss,  
Yet snatch the Pieces of the broken Kiss.  
Only be careful lest the present pain,  
Make Her of Rudeness in your Kiss complain.  
Who e'er retreats, when he thus far has gone,  
Deserves to lose the Victories h'as won;  
How almost was He Master of the Town!  
Such Clownish Rudeness no Pretence can frame,  
Such more then-Bashfulness that wants a Name!  
You call it Force, but They that Force require;  
And seem unwilling, when they most desire.  
She that by Force commits the sweet Offence,  
Pleased with the Sin, enjoys the good Pretence.  
And She who might be forced, yet escapes away;  
Is vexed within, though She dissemble Joy.   

For instance hear a Love Intrigue of old,  
(An Instance not unworthy to be told.)  
Venus had paid Prince Paris for his Vote,  
And Helen to the Trojan Court was brought;  
The Grecian Chiefs to Menelaus swore,  
By force to fetch her from the Asian Shore.  
Achilles' only the Appointment failed,  
While Woman's  his Blooming Valour veiled.  
Base Act, but that a Mother's Tears prevailed!  
Fond Prince! thy Hands and Distaff ill agree,  
The Weighty Spear much better suits with Thee.  
In the same Room a Royal Virgin lies,  
(The Siege much safer, and a Nobler Prize!  
She quickly finds the Hero in Disguise.  
Finds him more fit for Storms and Bloody Wars,  
Regardless of a Virgin's Cries or Tears.  
'Tis fit we think, by Force, he won the Field,  
Yet she submitted to that Force to yield.  
How often after, when he left her Bed,  
Called out betimes where Fame and Danger led.  
How often smiling was he heard to say,  
" And will you tempt your Ravisher to stay?  
" Can He deserve soft Looks, or winning Charms.  
" Who by rude Force at first possessed your Arms.   

That Fop is strangely fond of his fair Face,  
Who e'er expects that She should ask the Grace.  
No; let the Man his best persuasions use,  
She offers fairly, if she don't refuse.  
Thus Jove of old the Ladies humbly wooed,  
But none first courted even that mighty god.  
But if Submission swell her haughty mind,  
Withdrawing by degrees may make her kind.  
Some hating what they may at Will obtain,  
Love only what is difficult to gain.  
Yet do not always your lewd Hopes profess,  
Love may gain Entrance under Friendship's Dress.  
I've known that Cheat with the feverest pass,  
The Friend soon dies, and Lover takes his place.  
To look pale too may of Importance be,  
Tho in this Point the Doctors disagree.  
Yet thro' the Woods Orion lovesick ran.  
And Daphnis for his Nymph looked pale and wan.  
And leanness too does Passion well express,  
Joined with neglect unusual in your Dress.  
Late Watch bring the strongest Body down,  
And Cares and Griefs too well by Lovers known.  
These means may gain your end, and pity move,  
When all the World shall say, Poor Man, you love!   

But here I would a while my Precepts end,  
And some few minutes to complaining lend.  
Friendship and Honour!— All an empty Name!  
Neglected as the Heads whence first they came.  
Trust not your Passion with the Man you love,  
He'll be the first your Interest to remove.  
Yet Brave Patroclus was to Friendship just,  
And some few more perhaps have kept their Trust.  
But whoever hopes the like to find,  
May hope as well to sail against the Wind.  
Baseness alone we act with Appetite,  
And no man looks beyond his own Delight.  
weare so ill-natured in the base Offence,  
Another's Pain commends it to our Sense.  
In Love an Open Enemy neglect,  
Fear only those whom you could least suspect.  
A Kinsman, Brother, or a Confident,  
May make your Easy Faith too late repent.   

And now to close up all, I shall produce  
One Constant Rule of Universal Use.  
A Thousand  Humours you shall meet,  
A Thousand Arts those  Humours hit.  
One spot of Ground shall luscious Grapes supply,  
The next to Olives only shall agree.  
The Skilful Lover must with Care allot  
The Vine or Olive to their proper spot.  
Like Proteus must a Thousand Faces wear,  
A Tree, an Horse, a Lion, or a Bear,  
Be pleasant, airy, stately, or severe.  
Nor the same Snares for  Ages set,  
The Experienced Hunted Hind will spy the Net.  
If to the Bashful Wild, Great to the Mean.  
Courtly and Gay to the Illbred you seem;  
Each soon of such Accomplishments despairs;  
And lest she should be quickly nauceous, fears.  
Hence 'tis the Fluttering Spark goes often home,  
Outrivalled by the duller Brawny Groom.   
THE END.   

Hero and Leander OF MUSAEUS. From the GREEK.  

SIng, gentle Muse, the Torch well-known to Fame,  
The silent Witness of a Nobler Flame;  
And Him, who thro' th' divided Waves did haste,  
Tides of stolen Joys and Midnight Bliss to taste.  
Methinks I hear Leander on his way,  
The Amorous Waves about his Body play.  
The Faithful Torch almost consumed, I hear,  
That flaring tells glad Hero, he is near,  
The Torch, a proper Emblem of their Love,  
Whose well-known Service merits a remove,  
To shine for ever 'mongst the Stars above;  
And conscious of these Lover's Vows, dispense  
On us below a gentler Influence.  
Long was it Confident to their Amours,  
And told th'approach of their kind melting hours.  
Till the rough Winds a fatal War did move,  
(Unequal Foes for the soft sighs of Love!)  
At once destroying in an envious strife  
The Torch; the Flame of Love; Leander's Life.   

Two Neighbours, Sestus and Abydus, stand  
Viewing each other from the opp'site Strand;  
But Love, whose Will the Seas in vain oppose,  
Whose Boundless Power no Contradiction knows;  
At once reached both with one unerring Dart.  
Here struck a Careless Youth, and touched his Heart.  
There made a Nymph unwillingly complain,  
(What they too rarely do!) of equal Pain.  
Abydus' Glory, young Leander came,  
And Hero, Flower of Sestus, met his Flame.  
If Chance, or Business call ye out that way,  
You still the Ruins of the Tower may see.  
Where anxious Hero with the Taper stood,  
To guide her Lover thro' th'opposing Flood.  
May stand, concerned yourself upon the Shore,  
And hear the Melancholy Waters roar,  
That seem Leander's Death still to deplore.   

The Lovely Hero, sprung of Noble Blood,  
Priestess all Day in Venus' Temple stood:  
All Night from Friends upon the Neighbouring Sea  
In a loan Tower that other Venus lay.  
She ne'er with other Ladies used t'engage,  
Censure the Wits and Beauties of the Age.  
Nor in wild Masques, or Wanton Balls delight,  
With Chosen Youths to spend the amorous Night.  
But with rich Gums and costly Spices strove  
To keep propitious the Dread Queen of Love.  
Would sometimes Hyacinths and Roses bring,  
And sometimes Odes on her Adonis sing.  
And willing too to make Blind Love her own,  
The hovering Cupids she would often Crown.  
In vain she strove to bribe him to be kind,  
He's Deaf to Promises, t'Oblations Blind.  
It was the Time they Yearly Honours pay,  
When Venus and Adonis' name the Day.  
A Time by Sestians honoured above all;  
An Ancient and much Reverenced Festival.  
The Neighbouring Youth heard an uncertain Fame,  
And flocking all from Thrace and Cyprus came.  
The softer Sex Cythera empty left;  
Abydus was of all her Men bereft.  
They to the Altar Costly Presents pay,  
But their Devotion lies another way.  
Beauty, the Toy fond Lovers deify,  
Beauty draws in the Crowding Votary.  
A Power in Charming Smiles and Killing Eyes,  
Requires the Bleeding Heart for Sacrifice.  
But now Fair Hero thro' the Fane made way,  
Dressed to perform the Duties of the Day.  
An Air Majestic reigned thro' out her Face,  
Sweetened by many a Complying Grace.  
The Ancient Lovers but Three Graces found,  
And by that Test was Perfect Beauty crowned.  
But Hero's Beauty, more Divine than that,  
With every Look new Graces did Create.  
And wantonly about each careless Eye  
An hundred hovering Graces seemed to play.  
Oh Priestess, worthy of the Queen of Love!  
Worthy, next her, to Rule the Gods above!  
She who all Beauties does excel like you,  
At once may Priestess seem, and Goddess too.  
The Youths around burn with unhallowed Fires;  
Love Blazes out, and dwindling Zeal Expires:  
In vain the Wretches turn their Eyes away,  
The Killing Species on their Fancy prey.  
Too late does their preposterous Care begin,  
Who shut the Gates when th'evasion's got in.  
where-ever she went, or whatsoever was done,  
Her Lovely Motion and sweet Mien drew on  
The Eyes, the Heart, the Soul of every one.  
But One of all the rest to ease his pain,  
Thus gave his Passion vent:—   

Oft have I seen the Place they Sparta call,  
Where Beauty's Empire is the Prize of all;  
But ne'er did yet so fair a Creature meet:  
So young! so sweet! so every way complete!  
Long have I gazed 'twixt Trouble and Delight,  
While the Bright Object dazzl's my Dull Sight,  
Yet still I gaze, and find with weary Eyes,  
The Sight of Her, like Heaven, ne'er satisfies.  
Oh, I could smile, and Thousand Deaths defy,  
Might I, enjoying Thee, Blessed Hero, die!  
Wouldst Thou but favour my Ambitious Love,  
I'd envy not the Mighty Bliss of Jove.  
No, I would scorn his Pageantry and Show,  
And here enjoy a Real Heaven below.  
But thou, who dost my tender Passion see,  
Great Venus, hear thy Humble Votary.  
If from thy Priestess I must find Despair,  
Grant me at least a Nymph resembling Her.   

Thus spoke the Youth, and every Slander by  
Joined in his Wishes with an Hearty Sigh.  
And now another in his labouring Breast,  
Attempts to stifle the Outrageous Guest.  
But the Close Room frustrates his fond Desire,  
Augmenting while it hides the Raging Fire.   

At last Leander the Infection took,  
Disguised by Love under a Gentle Look.  
He had been told Love was a Killing Pain,  
And vowed he would not die, and not complain.  
He vowed he could not without Hero live,  
And She should cure the Wounds her Eyes did give.  
Thus for a while he braved; but Busy Love  
About his Heart did now too active prove.  
And now the Symptoms on his Face begin  
To show the sad Disorders are within.  
There Fear, and Shame, Amaze and Boldness move,  
The Dire Ingredients of the Poison Love.  
Now Hope and Joy his ravished Breast possess,  
With Thousand pleasing Images of Bliss;  
Like little Tastes of Future Happiness.  
Thro every Vein flows in a Liquid Fire,  
A full Spring Tide of Vehement Desire.  
Ah! Happy Youth, couldst thou thus ever burn,  
But thy Cold Fit (alas!) does soon return!  
While with her Beauty he his Merit weighs,  
This pale Despair, Confusion that conveys.  
At last with Seeming Boldness in his Face,  
(For Fear and Shame still lingered on the Place)  
Thro Crowds of Gazing Rivals he made way,  
Till his Deportment could not scape her Eye.  
And now with folded Arms and lifted Eyes,  
With wishing Glances, and Expressive Sighs,  
The Rhetoric by Nature first designed,  
He strove to move the Lady's gentle mind.  
Leander's meaning she did soon perceive,  
And for the Conquest secret Joy conceive.  
Women are Riddles no man can unfold,  
Whom baffled Contradictions cannot hold.  
Concerned they read the Cheats of Errantry,  
And weep when the Chimaera-Lovers die:  
But when true Sighs of Death require their Tears,  
When Love in all his Ghastly Shapes appears,  
No more that Female Softness they retain,  
Their Tyrant Eyes Enjoy the Real Pain.  
They cry out Fire at every Painted Flame,  
Unmoved when Burning Towns their Pity claim.  
Yet Signs of Kindness she would oft betray,  
And turn th'Obliging Lovely Sight that way.  
Then suddenly away her Eyes would snatch,  
As if She feared he had observed too much.  
Such Cruel Kindness does the Flash of Light,  
That shows the Way, and leaves us in the Night.  
Yet the fond Youth can scarce his joy contain,  
Pleased with the Hopes he has not sighed in vain.  
But now the long-wished Evening came on,  
When all the Business of the Day was done.  
His Courage with the Darkness does increase,  
And boldly now he ventures an Address.  
At first her lovely Hand he gently pressed,  
Then in a tender Sigh his Mind expressed.  
Without Reply she took her Hand away,  
But then a Kind inviting Look bids stay;  
Willing the feigned Resentment to betray.  
No sooner he perceived her wavering Mind,  
Half angry now, now willing to be kind.  
But straight a Hated Rudeness he put on,  
To salve her Honour, forfeiting his own.  
By Force he leads her to a close Recess,  
By Force to Her, but to Himself no less.  
With faint Resistance She his Force withstood,  
And fain would seem unwilling if She could.   

At last, What means this Rudeness, Sir, She said,  
This Savage Usage to a spotless Maid?  
Unhand me, and be gone without Reply,  
The Fury of my Injured Kinsmen fly.  
Are not my Office, and this Holy Place  
Sufficient Guards against Designs so base?  
At least, if you regard not Innocence,  
My Shrieks shall call in some to my Defence.   

She threatened highly, but Leander knew  
Spite of this Heat a Conquest would ensue.  
For Women like Distressed Soldiers are,  
When an hard Siege has driven 'em on Despair.  
Here Drum's they beat, and Trumpets there are blown,  
And all their Strength upon the Walls is shown;  
But if this fail, they straight resign the Town.   

My Goddess, then says he (for Form like thine;  
And such Perfection needs must be Divine:)  
Hear the hard measure to me dealt by Fate,  
And let me have your Pity, or your Hate;  
(But sure you'll pity the Unfortunate!)  
Who e'er that Face, those Fatal Eyes does see,  
Is forced to Love of strong necessity.  
And whatever Outrages Love may commit,  
Are Irresible Effects of It.  
And certainly such Goodness never can  
First cause the Sin, and then condemn the Man.  
Your Office too pleads strongly in my Cause,  
For Venus' Priestess should perform her Laws.  
Virgin and Priestess here so ill agree;  
They seem a Contradiction to me.  
But since for Venus you such Honour have,  
For her loved sake admit me for your Slave.  
Of fair At'lanta you must needs have read,  
By what dire means she shunned the Marriage Bed,  
And vowed her Virgin Honour to retain,  
(Which like true Honour, must be kept with Pain,)  
Till angry Venus, not enduring more,  
Made her love him, she fancied least before.  
If not to me, to your dear Self be kind,  
You may provoke your Goddess in this mind.   

These Artful Words his Argument made good;  
With fixed looks upon the ground she stood,  
A Conscious Blush o'r-ran her beauteous Face,  
A Blush that spoke the Conquest of the Place.  
The Charming Accents ran thro' every Vein,  
Conveying gentle Heat and pleasing Pain.  
But Virtue warmed by the new Heat of Love,  
The Frozen Snake within began to move.  
And now with Rage th' Intestine Wars begin,  
While meeting Heat and Cold ferment within.  
The Dire Extremes of Both by turns prevail,  
The Intermitting Love and Fear make Hell.  
One while on Points of Honour she reflects,  
And all th'Evasions of fond Love rejects:  
Then on Leander's goodly Shape would look,  
Saw his Sweet Strength, and was with wonder struck,  
That silent Rhetoric renews her Pain,  
Whispers soft Love, and fans the Fire again.  
Thus Love and Virtue struggle in her Breast,  
Loath to resign, unable to resist.  
Nor stood the Youth unmoved, or idly by,  
He saw the War, and prayed for Victory.  
When cruel Modesty with drew from's sight  
The Source of endless, ravishing Delight,  
His eager Eyes would on new Pleasure's feast;  
The Epicures devoured her Neck and Breast.  
Like Gods, they dwelled on those soft Hills of Snow,  
Unmoved with little Accidents below:  
But oh! how fast did the Short Ever flow!  
At last all Bars her Swelling Passion broke,  
And quite overcome in kinder words she spoke.   

Your words the roughest, hardest Rock might move,  
Might warm a Statue with the Sense of Love.  
Where could you learn this base, destroying Art,  
With such slight Toils to take a careless Heart!  
Or what ill Fate?— Why were you hither brought,  
Where I, alas, must hazard being caught?  
But yet in vain you spread your subtle snare,  
A wand'ring Stranger ne'er my Heart shall share.  
Or if I would; my Parents have designed  
I never shall in Marriage Bonds be joined.  
Parents, like Gods, cause they our Being give,  
Claim o'er our Wills a hard Prerogative.  
Their Creatures they dispose of at their Will,  
Nor must we question whether well or ill.  
My Virgin Honour and Unspotted Fame,  
To treat on base Articles disclaim;  
Honour and Fame which on our weaker side  
Heaven has ordained our feeble Reasons Guid.  
No; blast me Heavens! if e'er this Breast consent  
To wrong the blessed Guardians you have lent.  
Suppose you should a Stranger here remain,  
(Not that I'd have you feed on Hope so vain)  
And I your Passion kindly entertain.  
How long, alas, could we each other bless,  
Some soon would trace out our stolen Happiness!  
Men love to talk, and what was never done  
Has oft been buzzed thro' this Censorious Town.  
Howe'er your Name and Country I would know,  
So I may Pity, though not Love allow.  
To yonder Tower confined with Tales I strive  
(The Entertainment my Old Nurse can give!)  
To drive the Melancholy Hours away,  
Hours that return with every tedious day!  
The dreadful Waves too often thither press,  
No other Visitants can gain access;  
'Tis all the kindness my ha●d Friends express!  
The Ladies fly the Inauspicious Ground,  
No Gentle Youths there dance to music's sound.  
The only Music that e'er reaches me,  
Is the harsh Roaring of the neighbouring Sea.   

This said, again she hide her Heavenly Face,  
For Crowding Blushes now came on apace.  
And half relapsed does her ill Conduct blame,  
That she should trust a Stranger with her Fame.  
Each word the tender Lover almost kills,  
His Thoughts are bend how to redress these Ills.  
How they might Double Bliss, stolen Love, enjoy,  
And all the Spite of Place or Friends defy.   

Madam, at last the gentle Youth replies,  
(But first let's fall some deep prevailing Sighs:)  
Shall empty Nothings this Delight oppose,  
Who scorns the Malice of all Real Foes?  
Honour and Fame are nothing unto me,  
Who for your Love dare venture thro' the Sea.  
Thomas swollen with Dangers, dreadful Tempests roar,  
And shipwrackt Barks lie scattered on the Shoar.  
The Face of Danger I can never fear,  
While to those happy Arms my Course I steer.  
'Twill raise the Price of all our future Joys,  
(If ought the Price of Joys Immortal raise,)  
To think with how much Danger they were got,  
Not cheaply purchased at the Common Rate.  
Yes: I will leave Abydus every Night,  
And cross the Seas, as Love and you invite.  
You on the Tower a lighted Torch provide;  
Your Messenger of Love, your Lover's Guide.  
Thus I will be the little Bark of Love,  
Your Torch the Star by which the Bark does move.  
Yet one thing sits on my illboding Mind,  
Beware, Fair Maid, the flattering faithless Wind;  
Lest I on unseen Dangers should be tossed.  
And your poor little Bark should so be lost.  
My Cautions rise not from a sense of fear,  
But who so soon would lose a Love so dear!  
And, Dearest Maid, since you would know my Name,  
Leander I, your Blessed Adorer, am.  
Ambition could no greater Titles claim.   

This, and much more, the loving Pleader said,  
Gaining by slow degrees the Charming Maid.  
Upon these Terms at last they both agree,  
She to provide the Torch, He cross the Sea.  
Thrice by the Goddess of the Place they swore,  
Thrice with close Kisses ratified the Amour.  
After such Earnest of their future Joy,  
To the next Night Sh'adjourned th'unwilling Boy.  
Oft they agreed upon the parting Look,  
Yet after many a last Kiss he took.  
With much ado, he parts, and as he went,  
The ills of future Errors to prevent,  
Oft times he stopped, and oft Remarks he made,  
Which thro' the Night might to her Lodgings lead.  
The Following Morn creeps lazily away,  
Each Minute seems to him a tedious Day.  
Both Wine and Wit their boasted Virtue lose,  
And time stands still to him, which flies to those.  
The helpless Lover wanders up and down,  
And hopes in vain to lose it in the Town.  
What e'er he does, or wheresoe'er he goes,  
Th' appointed Hour; Th' appointed Hour pursues.   

But now the welcome Night brought all Things Rest,  
A Stranger only to Leander's Breast.  
Already He was at the Water's side,  
Waiting with pain the Rising of his Guide,  
The Star of Love; which might to humane Eyes,  
Like others, seem out of the Sea to rise.  
Hero no less Impatient of Delay,  
Sets up the Torch to call the Youth away.  
The grateful Object quickly reached his Sight,  
But Planet-like shot Heat as well as Light.  
Heat that renewed his Ecstasy of Pain,  
Doubling the rage of every boiling Vein.  
Whatever in other Things the Stars dispense,  
'Tis plain the Stars of Love do Influence.  
Fearful at first he saw the threatening Waves,  
Roul by in horrid Scenes of gasping Graves.  
But soon those Childish Fancies disappear,  
And Love confutes his Superstitious Fear.   

An hopeless Choice, said He, is left to me,  
The Rage of Love, or Fury of the Sea!  
On hard Extremes the hopeless Wretch is thrown,  
Whose Fatal Liberty is, Burn, or Drown!  
Who can the Outrageous Flames of Love endure,  
Yet those dire Flames are gentler than their Cure.  
Their Cure had been a calm obliging Sea,  
But that's as deaf and merciless as they.  
Yet I will in, and all its threatenings brave,  
The Waters shall this Burning Structure save.  
By Birth to Venus they Allegiance owe,  
Venus the Witness of our Midnight Vow.   

This said, He straight his lovely Body stripped,  
And boldly on the foaming Billows leapt.  
His Manly Strength th' opposing Waves divides,  
In stately Pride, like some Sea-god, he rides:  
Himself at once the Bark and Mariner,  
Himself the Pilot, and the Passenger.  
Hero meanwhile all pale and trembling stood,  
With fruitless cries, invoking the deaf Flood.  
She watched from whence each envious Blast took flight,  
And held her Mantle to defend the Light.  
Thus having reached the welcome Sestian Shore,  
The Wearied Youth stood shivering at her Door.  
The drops still fell from his rich Auborn Hair,  
When she with silent Joy embraced him there.  
Then to her richly furnished Chamber led,  
Furnished with Works her own fair hand had made.  
There they sweet Oils and Essences provide,  
To staunch th' offensive Odour of the Tide.  
Scarce yet recovered on her Bed he lies,  
While she with eager Joy his Limbs surveys.  
Then all o'er Love she clasps him in her Arms,  
Let's fall soft words endeared with Thousand Charms.   

My Joy! for me what Dangers hast thou known,  
What generous Wonders has thy Passion shown.  
My Joy! What Deaths hast thou embraced for me?  
Thy Love as full, and boundless as the Sea!  
No Lover yet this Noble Height e'er flew;  
This mighty Paradox was kept for you.  
Thy wearied Spirits on this Breast relieve;  
If Hero's Breast any Relief can give!  
Hero—   

At which he stopped her with a Kiss,  
Impatient grown for more Substantial Bliss.  
The Flames within peep thro' their Glowing Eyes,  
And shoot by turns fresh Vigour, as they rise.  
With ill experienced, and untimely Hast,  
They urge those Joys which flew themselves too fast.  
Till quite overwhelmed in meeting Tides of Fire,  
The wearied Lovers languish and expire.  
Then in kind wishing Looks and fainting Sighs  
Away the envious short-lived Blessing flies.  
But quickly they renew the amorous Heat,  
Pursuing Death so tightly Sweet.  
And then again with furious Hast they Love,  
Practise new Charms; each Wanton Art improve.  
As if they meant the fleeting Hours t'o'rtake,  
To pay with Interest past Enjoyments back.  
But still at Heaven arrived, they faint and die,  
Unable to support th'Excess of Joy.  
Thus flowed the gentlest, dearest, kindest Night,  
Each Minute measuring Ages of Delight.  
No Dance, or Music, or Untimely Rites,  
Deferred their Bliss, those crowd the Marriage Nights,  
When Fools their loathsome Jesting can't refrain,  
But barbarously make Sport  those in Pain,  
And while the Man lies tortured by her side,  
Impertinently kill the Longing Bride.  
A silent Lamp helped to complete the Joy,  
Which glaring Nuptial Torches would destroy.  
The Night's alone to these Stealths conscious were,  
The hasty Morn ne'er found Leander there.  
Still with regret her dearest Arms he left,  
Of ready Love unwillingly bereft.  
She with Lose Gown suspicion does avoid,  
Virgin by day, by night more blessed than Bride.   

Thus they a while in stolen Embraces live,  
'Midst all the Sweets successful Love can give.  
Th'Inconstant Moon oft changed her Face, and came,  
Yet always found their faithful Love the same.  
The Flowing Sea embraced the naked Shore,  
And left the Mistress which he kissed before.  
But still no Ebb was in their Passion found,  
The growing Sea of Love got daily Ground.  
But the short Date cheapen's all humane Things!  
The Winter hastes with Storms upon its Wings.  
Impetuous Blasts the swelling Surges raise,  
Unheard of Fury rages on the Seas,  
(In vain the Lovers wish for Halcyon Days!)  
The Sailors fear such Hazards to endure,  
Their Ships even in the Port are scarce secure.  
No noise of Hazards can Leander move,  
No Storms affright the venturous Bark of Love.  
Desire imposes on his credulous Eye,  
And shows the Danger less, the Tower more nigh.  
The Torch Invites, and he must away,  
Spite of the threatening Fury of the Sea.  
Hero should grant a gentle Respite now,  
And Grievous Absence for a while forgo:  
Not still the fatal, tempting Torch prepare,  
When not one Star i'th' Heavens durst appear.  
The Lady's Heart to pity was inclined,  
But Love and Fate had harsher things designed.  
The Cloudy Night did double Darkness show,  
Mourning the black Decrees it seemed to know.  
But oft from bursting Clouds broke forth a Light,  
Height'ning the horror of the dismal Night.  
Loud Peals of Thunder roll along the Sky,  
The Seas roar louder, and those threats defy.  
And now the Winds begin the fatal War,  
The cruel Winds their fiercest Blasts prepare;  
While poor Leander strove, but strove in vain,  
Through all their Rage the Sestian shore to gain.  
Here swelling Waters in vast Mountains rise,  
There dreadful Valleys gape before his Eyes.  
In vain the Youth his fruitless Prayers directs,  
And from his Sea-born Goddess help expects.  
In vain with Cries and Vows on Neptune calls,  
Promising Trophies to his Temple Walls.  
Yet stubborn Boreas he did almost move,  
So well he pleaded for his Faithful Love!  
The blust'ring Wind more gentle oft became,  
Pleased with the sound of Orithya's Name.  
But no Complaints can the deaf Seas assuage,  
Complaints and Sighs seem to increase their Rage.  
The wont strength fails his forsaken Feet;  
No more his wearied Hands the Waters beat:  
No more thro' meeting Waves he breaks away.  
They bear in Triumph now the wretched Prey.  
And now the Winds (but who thy Fate can tell,  
And not one sigh for thee, poor Youth, let fall!)  
The cruel Winds their utmost Malice show,  
Completing with one cursed Blast thy Woe:  
A cursed Blast put out th' unlucky Light,  
And with the Light Leander's Life took flight.  
Hero meanwhile wakeful and listening lay,  
Dreading the cause of his unusual stay.  
Her fear too soon the fatal cause presents,  
But willing Hope a fond pretence invents;  
That he would never venture thro' that Night.  
Should new Delights, and unknown Joys invite.  
But then a Noise below she seemed to hear,  
And rose and cried; Then are you come my Dear!  
But soon of Speech and Senses was bereft,  
Such ill Effects the Disappointment left!  
And now Sick Fancy shows Him to her Eyes,  
What will not Fancy helped by Night devise!  
Beside her Bed the dropping Lover stood,  
Breathless and panting from the toilsome Flood.  
In vain she tempts him with a thousand Charms,  
The pleasing Image fly's her Empty Arms.  
By such Delusions wrecked she passed the Night.  
Till Day returned with Conscious Mournful Light.  
She risen all sad, and clouded as the Day,  
And view's with Causcious Fear the dreadful Sea.  
But Fancy, willing to deceive her Fear,  
Now shows him wand'ring there, now ev'ry where,  
Fancy no longer can abuse her eyes,  
It shows False Things, but cannot true disguise.  
She finds at last the bruised, torn Body laid,  
Beneath the Tower, by some kind Wave conveyed.  
She saw the Killing Sight, and rend her Gown,  
And with a sudden shriek leaped headlong down.  
‛ Thus lived the Faithful Pair, thus faithful Died.  
Nor could harsh Death the Loving Flame divide.  
No Love so true e'er found so hard a Fate,  
None e'er so ill deserved so short a Date.   
THE END.