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Bid this remain, and that begone?
No tear half starting from your eye?
No kindling blush you know not why?
No stealing figh or stifled groan ?


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Away with this unmanly mood!
See where the hòary churl appears,
Whose hand hath seiz’d the fav'rite good
Which you reserv'd for happier years :
While fide by side the blushing maid
Shrinks from his visage half afraid,
Spite of the fickly joys she wears.
Ye guardian powers of love and fame,
This chaste, harmonious pair behold;
And thus reward the generous flame
Of all who barter vows for gold.
O bloom of youth and opening charms
Well-buried in a dotard's arms !
O worthy price of beauty fold !
Cease then to gaze, unthankful boy;
Let, let her go, the venal fair ;
Unworthy she to give you joy ;
Then wherefore should she give you care ?
Lay, lay your myrtle garland down,
And let the willow's virgin-crown
With happier omens bind your

O just escap'd the faithless main,
Tho' driven unwilling on the land!
To guide your favour'd steps again,
Behold your better genius stand :


Where Plato's olive courts your eye,
Where Hamden's laurel blooms on high,
He lifts his heaven-directed hand.
When these are blended on your brow,
The willow will be nam'd no more ;
Or if that love-deserted bough
The pitying, laughing girls deplore ;
Yet still shall I most freely swear,
Your dress has much a better air
Than all that ever bridegroom wore.


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HOW thick the shades of evening close!

How pale the sky with weight of snoirs !
Haste, light the tapers, urge the fire,
And bid the joyless day retire !
Alas, in vain I


To raise the dull, "dejected scene,
While rouz'd by grief these fiery pains
Tear the frail texture of my veins;
While winter's voice, that storms around,
And yon deep death-bell's groaning found
Renew my mind's oppressive gloom,
Till starting horror shakes the room.

Is there in nature ro kind power
To footh affliction's lonely hour ?



To blunt the edge of dire disease,
And teach these wintry Shades to please?
Come, Cheerfulness, triumphant fair,
Shine thro' the painful cloud of care :
O sweet of language, mild of mien,
O virtue's friend and pleasure's queen!
Affuage the flames that burn my breaft,
Attune my jarring thoughts to rest ;
And while thy gracious gifts I feel,
My song shall all thy praise reveal.

As once ('twas in Astrea's reign)
The vernal pow'rs renew'd their train,
It happen’d that immortal Love
Was ranging thro' the spheres above,
And downward hither cast his

The year's returning pomp to spy,
He saw the radiant God of day
Lead round the globe the rosy May;
The fragrant Airs and genial Hours
Were shedding round him dews and Aowers ;
Before his wheels Aurora paft,
And Hesper's golden lamp was laft.
But, faireft of the blooming throng,
When Health majestic mov'd along,

gay with smiles, to see below
The joys which from her presence flow,
While earth enliven'd hears her voice,
And fields, and Aocks, and fwains rejoice;
Then mighty Love her charms confess’d,
And soon his vows inclin'd her breast,
And, known from that auspicious morn,
The pleasing Cheerfulness was born.



Thou, Cheerfulness, by Heav'n design'd
To rule the pulse that moves the mind,
Whatever fretful pafsion springs,
Whatever chance or nature brings
To strain the tuneful poize within,
And disarrange the sweet machine ;
Thou, goddess, with a master-hand
Doft each attemper'd key command,
Refine the soft and swell the strong,
Till all is concord, all is song.

Fair guardian of domestic life,
Best banisher of home-bred strife,
Nor sullen lip, nor taunting eye
Deform the scene where thou art by:
No sickening husband damns the hour
That bound his joysto female power :
No pining mother weeps

the cares
That parents waste on hopeless heirs :
Th' officious daughters pleas'd attend;
The brother rises to the friend:
By thee their board with flowers is crown's,
By thee with songs their walks resound,
By thee their sprightly mornings shine,
And evening-hours in peace decline.

Behold the youth, whose trembling heart
Beats high with love's unpitied smart;
Tho' now he ftrays by rills and bowers,
And weeping wears the lonely hours ;
Or, if the nymph her audience deign,
Shames the soft story of his pain
With flavish looks, discolour'd eyes,
And accents faultering into fighs;



Yet thou, auspicious power, with ease,
Canlt yield him happier arts to please,
Exalt his mien to manlier charms,
Instruct his tongue with nobler arms,
With more commanding passion move,
And teach the dignity of love.

Friend to the Mufe and all her train,
*For thee I court the Muse again;

may the motive lay disclose
How much to thy fair aid she owes!
See, when thy touch reveals her mine,
How pure the stores of fancy shine; ;
Hark, when thy breath her song impels,
How full the tuneful current swells.
Let melancholy's plaintive tongue
Instruct the nightly strains of Y
But thine was Homer's ancient might,
And thine victorious Pindar's flight :
Thy myrtles crown'd the * Lesbian meads;
Thy voice awak'd + Sicilian recds;
Thy breath perfumes the Teian rose,
And Tiber's vine spontaneous Hows,
While Horace wantoris in thy quire;
The gods and heroes of the lyre.

See where the pale, the fick’ning fage
(A prey perhaps to fortune's rage,
Perhaps by tender griefs oppress’d,
Or glooms congenial to his breaft)

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+ Alcæus and Sappho. + Theocritus.



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