To SELINDA

Plato, who to Perfection brought, And made of gentle Love a Duty, Wise Plato's Rules have gravely taught To scale by Steps to perfect Beauty.

Long had I strove, with equal Care, In thought some perfect Form to find; I stole a Grace from ev'ry Fair, To deck the Charmer in my Mind.

Guiltless of Love! 'Twas hence I sought To praise the Sex with nicer Art: Resolv'd, the Form my Fancy wrought Alone, when found, shou'd move my Heart.

From ev'ry fragrant Beauty known The Bees thus furnish out their Hive; To None confin'd; intent alone On the rich compound, they contrive.

Like Mancha's Knight, I form'd a Fair, My Prowess in her Cause to shew: Nor guess'd a real Nymph cou'd share, Much less, engross my Heart, like YOU.

Hence then, Selinda, you'll discover, (If not, the sprightlier Muse may shew it,) That then the Poet made the Lover; As now, the Lover makes the Poet.