The TEMPLE of LOVE. Mary Leapor Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T127827 p. 413 K101776.000 Leapor, Mrs. (Mary), 1722-1746. Poems upon several occasions: By Mrs. Leapor of Brackley in Northamptonshire. London printed: and sold by J. Roberts 1748 pp. 162-166. 15,[5],282p. ; 8⁰.

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The TEMPLE of LOVE . WHEN lonely Night compos'd the drowsy Mind , And hush'd the Bosom of the weary Hind , Pleas'd with plain Nature and with simple Life , I read the Scenes of Shore's deluded Wife , Till my faint Spirits sought the silent Bed , And on its Pillow drop'd my aking Head ; Then Fancy ever to her Mira kind , Prepar'd her Phantoms for the roving Mind . Behold a Fabrick rising from the Ground , To the soft Timbrel and the Cittern's Sound : Corinthian Pillars the vast Building hold , Of polish'd Silver and Peruvian Gold ; In four broad Arches spread the shining Doors , The blazing Roofs enlighten all the Floors : Beneath a sparkling Canopy that shone With Persian Jewels , like a Morning Sun Wrap'd in a Robe of purest Tyrian Dye , Cythera's Image met the ravish'd Eye , Whose glowing Features wou'd in Paint beguile : So well the Artist drew her mimick Smile ; Her shining Eyes confess'd a sprightly Joy ; Upon her Knees reclin'd her wanton Boy ; On the bright Walls , around her and above , Were drawn the Statutes and the Arts of Love : These taught the silent Language of the Eye , The broken Whisper and amusing Lye ; The careless Glance peculiar to the Fair , And Vows for Lovers , that dissolve in Air ; The graceful Anger , and the rolling Eyes ; The practis'd Blush and counterfeit Surprise , The Language proper for pretending Swains ; And fine Description for imagin'd Pains ; The friendly Caution and designing Ease , And all the Arts that ruin while they please . Now entred , follow'd by a splendid Train , A blooming Damsel and a wealthy Swain ; The gaudy Youth in shining Robes array'd , Behind him follow'd the unthinking Maid : Youth in her Cheek like op'ning Roses sprung , Her careless Tresses on her Shoulders hung . Her Smiles were chearful as enliv'ning May ; Her Dress was careless , and her Eyes were gay ; Then to soft Voices and melodious Sound The Board was spread , the sparkling Glasses crown'd : The sprightly Virgin in a Moment shines In the gay Entrails of the eastern Mines ; Then Pride comes in with Patches for the Fair , And spicy Odours for her curling Hair : Rude Riot in a crimson Vest array'd , With smooth-fac'd Flatt'ry like a Chamber-maid : Soft Pomp and Pleasure at her Elbow stand , And Folly shakes the Rattles in her Hand . But now her feeble Structure seem'd to shake , Its Basis trembl'd and its Pillars quake ; Then rush'd Suspicion through the lofty Gate , With heart-sick Loathing led by ghastly Hate ; And foaming Rage , to close the horrid Band , With a drawn Poniard in her shaking Hand , Now like an Earthquake shook the reeling Frame , The Lamps extinguish in a purple Flame : One universal Groan was heard , and then The Cries of Women and the Voice of Men : Some roar out Vengeance , some for Mercy call ; And Shrieks and Tumult fill the dreadful Hall . At length the Spectres vanish'd from my Sight , Again the Lamps resum'd a feeble Light ; But chang'd the Place : No Splendor there was shown , But gloomy Walls that Mirth had never known ; For the gay Dome where Pleasure us'd to dwell , Appear'd an Abbey and a doleful Cell ; And here the sad , the ruin'd Nymph was found , Her Robe disorder'd and her Locks unbound , While from her Eyes the pearly Drops of Woe , Wash'd her pale Cheek where Roses us'd to blow : Her blue and trembling Lips prepar'd to breathe The Sighs that made her swelling Bosom heave ; Thus stupid with her Grief she sat and prest Her lily Hands across her pensive Breast ; A Group of ghastly Phantoms stood behind , Whose Task it is to wreck the guilty Mind : Wide-mouth'd Reproach with Visage rude and thin , And hissing Scandal made a hideous Din ; Remorse that darted from her deadly Wings , Invenom'd Arrows and a thousand Stings : Then with pale Cheeks and with a ghastly Stare , Peep'd o'er her Shoulder hollow-ey'd Despair ; Whose Hand extended bore a bleeding Heart , And Death behind her shook his threat'ning Dart : These Forms with Horror fill'd my aking Breast , And from my Eye-lids drove the Balm of Rest : I woke and found old Night her Course had run , And left her Empire to the rising Sun .