The New Hampshire Gazette And General Advertiser

Parnassian Spring.

Few Happy Matches.

SAY, mighty Love, and teach my Muse
To whom my sweetest Joys belong:
And who the happy pairs
Whose yielding Hearts, and joining Hands,
Find Blessing twisted with their Bands,
To soften all their Cares.
Not the wild Herd of Nymphs and Swains
That thoughtless fly into the Chains
As Custom leads the Way:
If there be bliss without design,
Vines and Oaks may grow and twine,
And be as blest as they.
Not sordid Souls of earthly Mould
Who drawn by kindred Charms of Gold
To dull Embraces move:
So two rich mountains of Peru.
May rush to wealthy Marriage too,
And make a world of Love.
Not the mad Tribe that Hell inspires
With wanton Flames: those raging fires
The purer Bliss destroy:
On Etna's Top let Furies wed,
And sheets of Lightning dress the Bed
To improve the burning Joy.
Not the dull Pairs whose Marble Forms
None of the melting Passions warms,
Can mingle Hearts and Hands:
Cold religious hearts and
Logs of green Wood that quench the Coals
Are marry'd just like Stoic Souls,
With Osiers for their bands.
Not Minds of melancholy Strain,
Still silent, or that still complain,
Can the dear Bondage bless:
As well may heavenly Comforts spring
From two old Lutes with ne'er a String,
Or none besides the Bass.
Nor can the soft Enchantments hold
Two jarring Souls of angry mould,
The Rugged and the Keen:
Samson's young Foxes might as well
In Bonds of cheerful Wedlock dwell.
With Firebrands ty'd between,
Nor let the cruel Fetters bind
A gentle to a savage Mind,
For Love abhors the Sight:
Loose the fierce Tyger from the Deer,
For native Rage and native Fear
Rise and forbid Delight.
Two kindest Souls alone must meet,
'Tis Friendship makes the Bondage sweet;
And feeds their mutual Loves:
Bright Venus on her rolling Throne
Is drawn by gentlest Birds alone,
And Cupids yoke the Doves.