Cynthia Sporting

ALONG the River's side did Cynthia stray,
More like a Goddess, than a Nymph, at play;
The Flood stopt to behold her; pleas'd to see't,
She to its Kisses yields her naked Feet.

Brisk Air saluted her, ne'er stay'd to wooe;
The very Boughs reach'd to be toying too;
The little Birds came thronging to admire,
And for her Entertainment made a Choire:

The Meadows smile, and Joy surrounds the place,
As if all things were infl'enc'd by her Face;
The Grass, and Leaves take Freshness from her Eyes,
And as of lesser Force, Sol's Beams despise.

No Herb press'd by her Foot but blossomes strait,
Flowers, for her Touch to ripen them, do wait;
They, from her Hand, new Fragrancy do yield,
Her Presence sills with Perfumes, all the Field.