1 But let not this, dear CELIA, now To rage thy breast incline; For why, fince you forgot your vow, THE CHOICE. HAD I, PYGMALION like, the pow'r To make the nymph I wou'd adore; The model fhou'd be thus defign'd, Like this her form, like this her mind. Her fkin fhou'd be as lilies fair, Her limbs well turn'd, her air and mien At once both sprightly and ferene; This for her form: now for her mind; I'd have it open, gen'rous, kind, Void of all coquettish arts, And vain defigns of conquering hearts, Not fway'd by any views of gain, Nor fond of giving others pain; But foft, tho' bright, like her own eyes, I'd have her fkill'd in ev'ry art That can engage a wand'ring heart; Know all the fciences of love, Yet ever willing to improve; To prefs the hand, and roll the eye, Το To lengthen out the balmy kiss, I'd have her to ftrict honour ty'd, And there, beneath fome filent grove, Some fparks of the poetic fire What joys from love and virtue flow; Enough, at least, to make her wife, Prefer her books, and her own muse, To vifits, fcandal, chat, and news; And make her more than woman-kind. Το a YOUNG LADY, GOING то THE WEST INDIES. OR universal sway design'd, FOR To diftant realms CLORINDA flies, And fcorns, in one small isle confin'd, To bound the conquests of her eyes. From our cold climes to INDIA's fhore And rob us of our only day. Whilft ev'ry streaming eye o'erflows With tender floods of parting tears, Thy breast, dear cause of all our woes, Alone unmov'd, and gay appears. But ftill, if right the mufes tell, The fated point of time is nigh, When grief fhall that fair bofom fwell, Tho' now, like PHILIP's fon, whose arms You rove with unrefifted charms, And conquer both by fea and land; Yet when (as foon they must) mankind You too, like him, will weep to find No more unconquer'd worlds remain. |