Miscellany poems containing a new translation of Virgills eclogues, Ovid's love elegies, odes of Horace, and other authors : with several original poems / by the most eminent hands.

ELEGY the EIGHTH.

Englished By Another Hand.

To his Mistress's Maid.

THou to whom ev'ry Artfull dress is known, Fit to attend on Goddesses alone, Whom I in stoln delights have found so free, Fit for your Mistress, but more fit for Me: Tell me, O tell the false Discoverers Of our past Joys, and all our tender hours. Yet did I blush? Or did my Language move The least Suspicion of our conscious Love? What thô I tax'd the man with want of sense, Whose generous Love cou'd with the Maid dispence? Did not Achilles fair Briseis love, And Greece's King his Captive's Vassal prove? Am I then greater than brave Peleus Son, That I should scorn the thing which Kings have done? But when on you she fix't her angry Eyes, Your Cheeks confest the Crime your Tongue denies.

While my more settl'd Soul the Fact disproves, And makes the Gods the Patrons of our Loves. (But O ye Gods forgive the Injury, And spare so sweet, so harmless Perjury.) Then what Reward is to such Service due? Be kind, my Dear, and let's our Joys renew. Ingratefull Maid! can you here feign delay? More than my Passion, shall her Anger sway? Should your nice Folly still deny Access, I'll turn Informer, and my self confess; E'en where we were, how oft, and what was done, Both to your Mistress, and the World I'll own.