SONG.

I.

A Pelles told the Painters fam'd in Greece,
To draw true Beauty was the hardest piece,
And now, alas, the same defect we see
Descend, from Painting into Poetry;
Divine Olimpia's Face no Skill can take
Each Feature does the feeble Artist blind,
And ah, what Muse a just Applause can make
Of all the Charms in that Angellick kind.

II.

Some are for pleasing Features far renown'd,
Others with Wit, or charming Voices wound,
Many for mein and shape fond Lovers prize,
And many make vast Conquests with their Eyes:
But ne'er were these Perfections found in one,
But in the fair Olympia alone;
The fair Olympia Phenix-like appears,
A Wonder seen once in a thousand years.

Second Movement.

THEN shew thy Power, great God of Love,
That laughst at Womens Craft,
Make all her Charms less strongly move,
And make her Heart more soft;
Ah, why should Beauty first ordain'd to please,
Consume and Kill,
And do such fatal Ill,
Since only she can cure which causes the desease.