Burnish and make a gaudy Show, All this we grant-why then look yonder, FARTHER we are by Pliny told, (Whether thro' Rage, or Luft, or both,) So, have I seen a batter'd Beau, Receive the Filth which he ejects; As from the Salamander's Spue: A A difmal Shedding of her Locks, Then I'll appeal to each By-ftander, On Mrs. BIDDY FLOYD. WH Written in the Year 1707. HEN Cupid did his Grandfire Jove intreat, To form fome Beauty by a new Receipt; Jove fent and found far in a Country Scene, Truth, Innocence, Good-Nature, Look ferene; From which Ingredients, firft the dex'trous Boy Pick'd the Demure, the Aukward, and the Coy! The Graces from the Court did next provide Breeding, and Wit, and Air, and decent Pride. These Venus cleans'd from ev'ry fpurious Grain Of Nice, Coquet, Affected, Pert, and Vain. Jove mix'd up all, and his best Clay employ'd; Then call'd the happy Compofition FLOYD. APOLLO outwitted. To the Hon. Mrs. FINCH, (fince Countess of WINCHELSEA,) under the Name of AR DELIA. Written in the Year 1707. PHEBUS HOBUS now fhort'ning every Shade, And thence beheld a lovely Maid The God laid down his feeble Rays; Under thofe facred Leaves, fecure The Nymph, who oft had read in Books, Soon knew Apollo by his Looks, And guess'd his Bufinefs, 'ere he spoke. He He in the old Celestial Cant, Confefs'd his Flame, and fwore by Styx, Whate'er she would defire, to grant; But wife Ardelia knew his Tricks. Ovid had warn'd her to beware/ Of ftroling Gods, whofe ufual Trade is, Howe'er, she gave no flat Denial, To cheat the God in his own Art. Hear my Request, the Virgin said; Let which I please of all the Nine Attend whene'er I want their Aid, Obey my Call, and only mine. By Vow oblig'd, by Paffion led, The God could not refuse her Prayer: He wav'd his Wreath thrice o'er her Head, Thrice mutter'd fomething to the Air. And now he thought to feize his Due, On On Sight of this celestial Prude, He hop'd to find fome lucky Hour, Then full of Rage Apollo fpoke, Let stubborn Pride poffefs thee long, Of modeft Poets be thou firft, To filent Shades repeat thy Verfe, And laft, my Vengeance to compleat; |