YOUTHS.

Hear not the maids who these reproaches feign,
Their secret breasts adore thine amorous reign.
Shine still serene! then, Hesper, proudly shine,
Nor heed their words, whose hearts are wholly thine.
Oh Hymen, hear! Oh sacred Hymen, haste;
Come, god and guardian of the fond and chaste!

MAIDENS.

When in the garden's fenced and cultured ground, Where browse no flocks, where ploughshares never

wound,

By sunbeams strengthen'd, nourish'd by the shower,
And sooth'd by zephyr, blooms the lovely flower:
Maids long to place it in their modest zone,
And youths enraptured wish it for their own.
But, from the stem once pluck'd, in dust it lies,
Nor youth nor maid will then desire or prize.
The virgin thus her blushing beauty rears,
Loved by her kindred and her young compeers;

But, if her simple charm, her maiden grace
Is sullied by one spoiler's rude embrace,
Adoring youths no more her steps attend,
Nor loving maidens greet the maiden friend.
Oh Hymen, hear! Oh sacred Hymen, haste;
Come, god and guardian of the fond and chaste!

YOUTHS.

As in the naked field the vine's weak shoot

Nor lifts its languid stem, nor glows with fruit;
But by itself weigh'd down it lowly strays,

And on its root its highest tendril lays:

The herdsmen then, the passing hinds neglect
The lonely vine, nor cherish, nor protect.

If by some happy chance its feeble boughs

Twined round the trunk shall make the elm a

spouse;

No herdsmen then, nor passing hinds neglect

The wedded vine, but cherish and protect.

So scorn'd the maid, who flies the fond embrace,

And withering adds no honours to her race.

So is the fair beloved, who binds her fate

In wedlock chaste to some accordant mate:

She gives the joys that warm her husband's breast, And doting parents by her bliss are blest.

YOUTHS AND MAIDENS.

Then, gentle maiden, shun no more the spouse
To whom thy father pledged thy bridal vows.
If thou hast loved as daughters should, obey
The latest dictate of parental sway.
Thou must thy timid wish to his resign;
Nor is thy chastity entirely thine;

Thy parents gave it thee with life and light ;
Part is thy father's, part thy mother's right.
They to thy bridegroom yielded with his bride
Her filial duty and her maiden pride.

Then yield, nor damp by chill reluctant shame
Thy parents' wishes and thy lover's flame.
Oh Hymen, hear! Oh sacred Hymen, haste;
Come, god and guardian of the fond and chaste.

ATY S.

BORNE Swiftly o'er the seas to Phrygia's woody strand,

Atys with rapid haste infuriate leap'd to land; Where high-inwoven groves in solemn darkness meet, Rush'd to the mighty Deity's remote and awful seat,

And wilder'd in his brain, fierce inspiration's prey, There with a broken flint he struck his sex away.

Soon as he then beheld his comely form unmann'd, While yet the purple blood flow'd reeking on the land; Seized in his snowy grasp the drum, the timbrel light,

That still is heard, dread Cybele, at thine initiate rite,