GENTLEST air, the breath of Lovers!
Vapour from a secret fire;
Which, by thee, itself discovers,
Ere yet daring to aspire.
Softest note of whispered anguish !
Harmony's most subtle part,
Striking, while thou seem'st to languish,
Full upon the list'ner's heart!
Safest messenger of Passion!
Stealing through a crowd of spies; Which constrain the outward fashion, Close the lips, and guard the eyes.
Shapeless Sigh! None e'er can show thee!
Framed but to assault the ear;
Yet, ere to their cost they know thee,
Ev'ry Nymph may read thee-here!
BELINDA! see, from yonder flowers
The bee flies loaded to its cell!
Can you perceive what it devours?
Are they impaired in show, or smell?
So, though I robbed you of a kiss
Sweeter than their ambrosial dew;
Why are you angry at my bliss?
Has it at all impoverished you?
'Tis by this cunning I contrive,
In spite of your unkind reserve,
To keep my famished love alive;
Which you inhumanly would starve.
FLORELLA! when those eyes I see,
So innocently kind and free,
Ever fixed, and fixed on me!
Say, Why should I my time misspend,
With idle fears so long attend;
And lose the Lover in the Friend?
A year, or two, I could forbear;
But that some happier Youth, I fear,
May gain thy heart, and triumph there!
Then, dearest Girl! with me retire!
What Age should give, Love shall inspire!
And thou shalt ripen by my fire!
LOVE, wearied with his roving flight,
Descending at th' approach of night,
Down to PANTHEA's bosom fled;
And made that Seat of Joy his bed.
Gently her heaving bosom rose,
And seemed to court him to repose;
Nestling, he folds his wings, to creep
Between her breasts for sweeter sleep.
Pleased and transported with the joy,
She laughed at the deluded Boy;
And did a stratagem prepare
To keep the wanton pris'ner there.
She took a various coloured braid,
Of purple, gold, and scarlet made;
'Now, Youngster!' said the cruel Fair,
'You shall PANTHEA'S fetters wear!'
But when surprised, he waking found
His shackled limbs, and pinions bound,
Sighing, he wept; and begged, She'd please
To give her captive a release!
Sly Youth,' says she, 'would you so soon Quit your apartments, and be gone! No, my dear Rover! first discharge Your quarters, ere you're set at large!'
'Then, for a bribe,' said he, 'to go,
My quiver take, and take my bow!
Nor can I greater triumphs boast,
Than that my Arms to you were lost!'
And now those shafts are his no more;
His bow and ensigns of his power!
PANTHEA now commands Love's darts!
All eyes she charms; and wounds all hearts!
BETWEEN SURLY AND BEAU.
SURLY. Prithee, tell me, What a Beau is?
Thou who art so famed for one!
BEAU. He's a person of great prowess!
By these marks he may be known.
Though his eyebrows black as jet are,
Yet his wig is white as snow!
Ev'ry hour he writes some letter,
Or receives some billet-doux!
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