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Once more, ye fair, attend your master's song,
And learn what method will your charms prolong;
What happy heart best recommends a face;
What heightens beauty; what preserves a grace.
Art improves nature; 'twas by art we found
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The vast advantages of furrow'd ground:
The soil manur'd, a fruitful harvest bore,
Where thorns and hungry brambles grew before.
By art the gard'ner grafts his trees, to bear
A kinder fruit, and recompense his care.
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A gilded roof delights our captive eyes,
And stately monuments the sight surprise,
Tho' sordid earth beneath the polish'd marble lies.
The fleece may be with royal purple died,
And India precious ivory provide,
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To please your fancies and supply your pride.
When Tatius rul'd the ancient Sabine race,
Then, rough and careless of a handsome face,
The women took more pains to earn their bread
At plough and cart, than how to dress the head;
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