When beauteous Celia, silent, shews her Face,
Adorn'd with each celestial blooming Grace,
Ten thousand smiling Cupids fill the Place,
And fetter'd Lovers, pining, round her die:
But Providence regardful of Mankind,
With Pride and Folly overstock'd her Mind,
From which, whene'er she speaks, the Wretches find
Returning Life, and Health, and Liberty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem