Have left on long record of woman's rife, Perhaps 'tis either, as the Ladies please ; In days of yore, (no matter where or when, 'Twas ere the low creation fwarm'd with men) That one Prometheus, fprung of heavenly birth, (Our Author's fong can witness) liv'd on earth. He carv'd the turf to mold a manly frame, And ftole from Jove his animating flame. The fly contrivance o'er Olympus ran, When thus the monarch of the stars began. Oh vers'd in arts! whofe daring thoughts afpire, To kindle clay with never-dying fire! Enjoy thy glory past, that gift was thine ; The next thy creature meets, be fairly mine: As fuits the counfel of a God to find; A pleafing bofom-cheat, a fpecious ill, Which felt they curse, yet covet still to feel. He faid, and Vulcan ftrait the Sire commands, To temper mortar with etherial hands; In fuch a shape to mold a rifing Fair, As virgin goddeffes are proud to wear; 'Twas thus the Sire ordain'd; the Pow'r obey'd; And work'd, and wonder'd at the work he made; The faireft, fofteft, fweeteft frame beneath, Now made to feem, now more than seem to breathe. A mind for love, but still a changing mind The lifp affected, and the glance defign'd; ; The sweet confufing blush, the secret wink, The Perhaps 'tis either, as the Ladies please ; In days of yore, (no matter where or when, 'Twas ere the low creation fwarm'd with men) That one Prometheus, fprung of heavenly birth, (Our Author's fong can witness) liv'd on earth. He carv'd the turf to mold a manly frame, And ftole from Jove his animating flame. The fly contrivance o'er Olympus ran, When thus the monarch of the stars began. Oh vers'd in arts! whofe daring thoughts afpire, To kindle clay with never-dying fire! The next thy creature meets, be fairly mine: A pleafing bofom-cheat, a specious ill, Which felt they curfe, yet covet still to feel. He faid, and Vulcan ftrait the Sire commands, To temper mortar with etherial hands; The price of favors; the designing arts Full on the Fair his beams Apollo Aung, Which frets another's fpleen to cure its own. Thofe facred virgins whom the Bards revere, Tun'd all her voice, and shed a sweetness there, To make her fenfe with double charms abound, Or make her lively nonsense please by found. To drefs the maid, the decent Graces brought A robe in all the dies of beauty wrought, And plac'd their boxes o'er a rich brocade, Where pictur'd Loves on ev'ry cover plaid; Then spread those implements that Vulcan's art Had fram'd to merit Cytherea's heart; The |