Poetical recreations consisting of original poems, songs, odes, &c. with several new translations : in two parts
Barker, Jane.
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To Mrs. IANE BARKER, on her most Delightfull and Ex∣cellent Romance of SCIPINA, now in the Press.

HAil! Fair Commandress of a gentle Pen,
At once the Dread, and dear Delight of Men;
Who'll read with Transports those soft joys you've writ,
Then fear their Laurels do but loosely it,
Since You invade the Primacy of Wit.
Accept, kind Guardian, of our sleeping Fame,
Those modest Praises, which your Merits claim.
'T'as been our Country's Scandal, now of late,
For want of Fancy, poorly to Translate:
Each pregnant Term, some honest, labouring brain
With toilsome drudgery, and mighty pain,
Has told some new Amour from France or Spain.
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Running us still so shamefully o'th' score,
That we have scarcely credit left for more.
But Thou, in whom all Graces are combin'd,
And native Wit with equal Iudgment joyn'd,
Hast taught us how to quell our Bankrupt Fear,
By bravely quitting all the long Arrear.
Thy single Payment, they'll with thanks allow
A just return for all those Debts we owe.
What though their Tale more numerous appear?
Our Coyn's more noble, and our Stamp more fair.
So have I seen a Score o'th' Dunning Race,
Discharg'd their Paltry Ticks with one Broad∣pi••
Nor hast Thou more engag'd thy Native Home
Than the bare Memory of ancient Rome:
So far thy generous Obligations spread,
As both to bind the Living and the Dead.
'Twould please thy Hero's awfull Shade, to see
His Part thus Acted o'er again by Thee;
Where ev'n his bare Idea has that pow'r,
Which Real Scipio only had before:
Such tenderness his very Image moves,
That ev'ry gentle Maid that reads it, Loves.
Page  31o see with what new Air the Lover charms!
ill doubly bless'd in fair Clarinthia's Arms.
riumphs of War were less than those of Peace;
Nor was He e'er so Great in any Arms, as these.
What crowds of Weeping Loves wilt Thou create,
When in thy Lines they find their Pictur'd Fate?
Thou'st fram'd each Passion with so soft an Art,
As needs must melt the hardest Stoick's heart.
Did Zeno live to see thy moving sence,
He'd sure in Love an Epicure commence;
he cold Insensible would disappear,
And with each Mourning Fair he'd shed a Tear.
But when He reads the happy Lover's Ioys,
He'd tell the rapturous pleasures with his Eyes:
On's wrinkl'd brows a smiling Calm would shine,
He'd think each Period of thy Book Divine,
And with impatience kiss each tender line.
Yet all this while, such are thy harmless Flames,
As neither Age it self, nor Envy blames:
The Precise-Grave-Ones cannot disapprove
Thy Gallant Hero's honourable Love.
Page  32Thy Lines may pass severest Virtue's Test,
More than Astraea's soft, more than Orinda's chast.
Young Country Squires may read without offence,
Nor Lady Mothers fear their debauch't Innocence.
Only beware, Incautious Youths beware,
Lest when you see such lovely Pictures there;
You, as of old the Fair Enamour'd Boy,
Languish for those feign'd Beauties you descry,
And pine away for Visionary Ioy.
Then if by day they kindle noble Fire,
And with gay thoughts your nightly Dreams in∣spire,
Bless, Bless the Author of your soft desire.