But vain were all his Tricks and Snares,
His Craft was great, and fo was theirs :
How close foe'er he watch'd their Waters,
Their Heads were full of other matters.
Well then, fays Cupid, be it fo;
Yet my Revenge the Jilts fhall know,
I'll fpoil their chiming Trade below;
All their Adorers I'll inspire
More fhall of Chloe fing and Phillis,
Than of Eneas and Achilles:
'Midst their high Strains and Songs divine,
In am'rous Ditty they fhall whine:
Anacreon-He fhall all be mine.
Hence 'tis that Poets always prove
Slaves to the Tyranny of Love.
Horace spent all his gentle Hours
In Affignations and Amours ;
And when thro' fifty Years he went ye,
He liv'd and lov'd like one of twenty.
Ovid, if we himself believe,
Was the most am'rous Rogue alive:
And, tho' we hear not one Word faid
Of any Mistress Virgil had,
Yet how could he fo well have written
Of Love, if he had ne'er been smitten?
And if Intrigues he had not try'd too,
He'd ne'er contriv'd fo well for Dido.
Our Moderns too, each puny Son
That drinks the Dregs of Helicon,
All underneath this Sentence bow,
And feel th' Effects of Cupid's Vow.
Tho' fparing now the Mufe inspire,
Love ftill is liberal of his Fire.
HENorth, and ev'ry Cloud-difperfing Wind
In the Æolian Caverns Jove confin'd;
And loos'd the South, the wat'ry South, that brings
Night in his Look, and Tempests on his Wings.
His big fwoln Beard o'erwhelming Show'rs con-
[tain'd,
Storms threaten'd on his Brow, and from his Locks
[it rain'd; Crush'd by his ample Palms the Clouds o'erflow In ratling Tempests on the World below, Whilst various Iris joins her ready Aid, (Her Storms collected, and her Bow display'd) Low lie the Fruits, o'erthrown upon the Plain, The ripen'd Herbage and the swelling Grain: The Farmer fighing views his Hopes all crofs'd, The Year's long Labour in a moment lost.
Befides the wat'ry Treasures of the Skies, His Brother's Forces angry Jove employs.
Summon'd, the River Gods from far and near,
Their Monarch's dread Commands with Silence [hear. Instant (all this a juft Occasion claims)
Pourfrom your Urns, pour copious all your Streams,
All Banks, all Letts, all Obftacles remove,
At large let all your Floods unbridled rove.
He said: they hafte, their Fountains all fet free
Rush in impetuous Torrents to the Sea.
Then with his pond'rous Mace he struck the Earth
Broke up her hidden Springs, and gave a Deluge
[Birth.
The conqu'ring Floods wide-wafting now become
To Man and Beast, Death, Burial, and a Tomb;
All Nature's cover'd in one common Grave,
Nor Temples Gods, nor Gods their Temples fave.
Strong, lofty Domes that undestroy'd abide,
Are loft, furmounted in the whelming Tide;
Their Turrets highest Height the Surges hide.
Now one Resemblance Earth and Ocean bore,
All was a Sea, a Sea without a Shore.
One to the Hills, one to his Pinnace flies,
And where he lately plow'd, his Oars he plies.
The reeling Ship another vainly bore,
O'er his drown'd Corn, and Villa now no more.
Those Tow'rs of Oak o'er Woods and Vineyards
[flew,
Or ride at Anchor, where they lately grew."
The frighted Mermaids stand amaz'd to fee
Cities and Groves a Landskip in the Sea.
Tygers and Wolves, with their unheeded Prey,
The more rapacious Deluge bore away.
In vain with Tusks the Boar was arm'd for Fight,
In vain the swimming Stag made fwift for Flight.
The troubled Fowl flew circling long, 'till tir'd
Flutt'ring they fell, and in the Flood expir❜d.
The fmall Remains of wretched Men, preserv'd
From drowning with the Crowd, at length were
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