A Tale attend, thro' Cyprus known, to prove
How Venus once reveng'd neglected Love.
The Story of Iphis and Anaxarete.
Iphis, of vulgar Birth, by Chance had view'd
Fair Anaxaretè of Teucer's Blood.
Not long had he beheld the Royal Dame,
E're the bright Sparkle kindled into Flame.
Oft did he struggle with a just Despair,
Unfix'd to ask, unable to forbear.
But Love, who flatters still his own Disease,
Hopes all things will succeed, he knows will please.
Where-e'er the fair one haunts, he hovers there;
And seeks her Confident with Sighs, and Pray'r.
Or Letters he conveys, that seldom prove
Successless Messengers in Suits of Love.
Now shiv'ring at her Gates the Wretch appears,
And Myrtle Garlands on the Columns rears,
Wet with a Deluge of unbidden Tears.
The Nymph more hard than Rocks, more deaf than Seas,
Derides his Pray'rs; insults his Agonies;
Arraigns of Insolence th' aspiring Swain;
And takes a cruel Pleasure in his Pain.
Resolv'd at last to finish his Despair,
He thus upbraids th' inexorable Fair.—
O Anaxaretè, at last forget
The Licence of a Passion indiscreet.
Now Triumph, since a welcome Sacrifice
Your Slave prepares, to offer to your Eyes.
My Life, without Reluctance, I resign;
That Present best can please a Pride, like Thine.
But, O! forbear to blast a Flame so bright,
Doom'd never to expire, but with the Light.
And you, great Pow'rs, do Justice to my Name;
The Hours, you take from Life, restore to Fame.
