The SNUFF-BOX

Immortal Parnel has divinely sung, How from the plastic Hand Pandora sprung.— The Deities consulting join'd their Care To grace with all their Arts the rising Fair: By ev'ry God some Blessing was bestow'd; From each bright Goddess some Perfection flow'd: Ambitious those, to form the Pattern well; These, each to view her Attribute excell. Venus, elate with hourly Conquest grown, Jealous of Gifts that might Transcend her own, Extending far the Pow'rs of Air and Mien, Just form'd a Goddess, where she meant a Queen: Yet saw each Grace in such Perfection join, That, with distinguish'd Lustre, none cou'd shine: Like Jewels, each reflecting various Rays, Their Colours diff'rent, but alike their Blaze.

Thus shone Selinda, when, with matchless Pow'r, To all around the polish'd Box she bore. Love sure had there his treasur'd Ills confin'd, And to the Nymph the fatal Gift consign'd: That thence his Snares, conceal'd in pungent grains, Might to soft Hearts convey his pleasing Pains. With ev'ry share she dealt a latent Wound, While in my Breast superiour Pangs I found.

O wou'd the Fair that glitt'ring Toy impart, And ease the Anguish of a wounded Heart! For in that radiant Mansion Hope remains, And who acquires the first, the last obtains.