A NOON-PIECE; OR, The MOWERS at Dinner. ODE II. THE Sun is now too radiant to behold, And vehement he sheds his liquid Rays of Gold; No cloud appears thro' all the wide expanse; And short, but yet distinct and clear, To the wanton whistling air The mimic shadows dance. Fat Mirth, and Gallantry the gay, And romping Extasy 'gin play. Now Myriads of young Cupids rise, And open all their joy-bright eyes, Filling with infant prate the grove, And lisp in sweetly-fault'ring love. In the middle of the ring, Mad with May, and wild of wing, Fire-ey'd Wantonness shall sing. By the rivulet on the rushes, Beneath a canopy of bushes, Where the ever-faithful Tray, Guards the dumplings and the whey, Colin Clout and Yorkshire Will From the leathern bottle swill. Their scythes upon the adverse bank Glitter 'mongst th' entangled trees, Where the hazles form a rank, And court'sy to the courting breeze. Ah! Harriot! sovereign mistress of my heart, Could I thee to these meads decoy, New grace to each fair object thou'dst impart, And heighten ev'ry scene to perfect joy. On a bank of fragrant thyme, Beneath you stately, shadowy pine, We'll with the well-disguised hook Cheat the tenants of the brook; Or where coy Daphne's thickest shade Drives amorous Phoebus from the glade, There read Sydney's high-wrought stories Of ladies charms and heroes glories; Thence fir'd, the sweet narration act, And kiss the fiction into fact. Or satiate with nature's random scenes, Let's to the gardens regulated greens, Where taste and elegance command Art to lend her daedal hand, Where Flora's flock, by nature wild, To discipline are reconcil'd, And laws and order cultivate, Quite civiliz'd into a state. From the sun, and from the show'r, Haste we to you boxen bow'r, Secluded from the teizing pry Of Argus' curiosity: There, while Phoebus' golden mean, The gay meridian is seen, Ere decays the lamp of light, And length'ning shades stretch out to night — Seize, seize the hint — each hour improve (This is morality in love) Lend, lend thine hand — O let me view Thy parting breasts, sweet avenue! Then — then thy lips, the coral cell Where all th' ambrosial kisses dwell! Thus we'll each sultry noon employ In day-dreams of exstatic joy.