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Matthew Prior - An Ode To Mr. Howard
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Dear Howard, from the soft assaults of love
Poets and painters never are secure;
Can I untouch`d the fair one`s passions move,
Or thou draw beauty, and not feel its power?

To great Appelles when young Ammon brought
The darling idol of his captive heart;
And the pleased nymph with kind attention sat,
To have her charms recorded by his art:

The amorous master own`d her potent eyes:
Sigh`d when he look`d, and trembled as he drew:
Each flowing line confirm`d his first surprise,
And, as the piece advanced, the passion grew.

While Philip`s son, while Venus` son, was near,
What different tortures does his bosom feel?
Great was the rival, and the god severe:
Nor could he hide his flame, nor durst reveal.

The prince, renown`d in bounty as in arms,
With pity saw the ill-conceal`d distress;
Quitted his title to Campaspe`s charms,
And gave the fair one to the friend`s embrace.

Thus the more beauteous Cloe sat to thee,
Good Howard, emulous of the Grecian art:
But happy thou, from Cupid`s arrow free,
And flames that pierced thy predecessor`s heart!

Had thy poor breast received an equal pain;
Had I been vested with the monarch`s power;
Thou must have sigh`d, unlucky youth, in vain;
Nor from my bounty hadst thou found a cure.

Though, to convince thee that the friend did feel
A kind concern for thy ill-fated care,
I would have sooth`d thy flame I could not heal;
Given thee the world; though I withheld the fair.
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