Classic Poem

Oft' have I blam'd the Classic Song,
Whose reverend Cheat the Muse explodes
The blue-ey'd Nereids fancy'd Throng,
And all its Race of fabled Gods.

II.

But when amid the gentle Main
A Troop of lovely Nymphs I view,
I grow enamour'd with the Strain,
And think the pleasing Fiction true.

III.

Not Galatea more cou'd please,
Whose Charms the Cyclops did transport:
Nor the fam'd Venus of the Seas:
Nor Thetis with her num'rous Court.

IV.

Here no indecent Sight allures
The bold Access of lewder Eyes,
A spreading Vest the Nymph secures,
And every prying Glance defies.

V.

So pure the Fair, so bright their Mien,
That 'mid the lovely Band Divine
With Pride Lucretia might be seen,
And Vestal Maids unblushing join.

VI.

Rash Gazer, let thy Eyes beware,
Nor, O, too curiously presume,
Fly from the Nymphs, Diana 's Care,
Or dread Actaeon 's fatal Doom.