Because, when they had toy'd and kiss'd, The foolih

foolish Twain would marry ;

Becaufe, &c.

See winter comes, a dreary form, bio'
To rule the falling year,

No more the lambs with gamefome bound
Rejoice the gladden'd light;

No more the gay enamell'd ground,

Or fylyan fcenes delight:

1

Thus Zephalinda, much loy'd maid, İsm
Thy early charms fhall fail;
The rofe must droop, the lily fade,
And winter foon prevail.

Again the lark, fweet bird of May,
May rife on active wing;
Again the sportive herds may play,
And bail reviving spring.
But youth, my fair, fees no return;
The pleafing bubble o'er,
In vain its fleeting joys you mourn,
They fall to bloom no more.

Hafte then, dear girl, that time improve
Which art can ne'er regain,

In blissful fcenes of mutual love,

With fome diftinguish'd.fwain e
So fhal; life's fpring, like jocund May,
Pafs fmiling and ferene;
Tho' Summer, Autumn, glide way,
Ang Winter close the scene.

JA

128

If love's a sweet paffion, how can it torment?

If bitter, O tell me whence comes my content! Since I fuffer with pleafure, why should I compla Or grieve at my fate, fince I know 'tis in vain Yet fo pleafing the pain is, so soft his the dart, That at once it both wounds me and tickles my he I grafp her hand gently, look languishing down And by paffionate filence I make my love know But, oh! how I'm blefs'd when fo kind she does pro By fome willing mistake to discover her love; When, in ftriving to hide, the reveals all her far And our eyes tell each other what neither dare nat How pleafing is beauty! how sweet are .he char How delightful embraces! how peaceful her arm Sure there's nothing fo eafy as learning to love; 'Tis taught us on earth, and by all things above And to beauty's bright standard all heroes muft yi For 'tis beauty that conquers and keeps the fair f --- 129′′

WHAT beauteous fcenes enchant my fight!
How clofely yonder vine

Does round that elm's fupporting height
Her wanton ringlets twine!
That elm (no more a barren fhade)
Is with her clufters crown'd;
And that fair vine, without his aid,
Had crept along the ground.

Let this, my fair one, move thy heart
Connubial joys to prove,

Yet mark what age and care impart,
Nor thoughtless rush on love:
Know thy own blifs, and joy to hear
Vertumnus loves thy charms,

The youthful god that rules the year,
And keeps thy groves from harm.
While fome with fhort-liy'd paffion glow,
His love remains the fame;
On him alone thy heart bestow,
And crown his constant flame:

o fhall no froft's untiemly pow'r
Deform the blooming (pring;
So fhall thy trees, from blafts fecure,
Their wonted tribute bring.

131

THE gaudy tulip fwells with pride,

And rears its beauties to the fun,
With heav'n born tints of Iris's bow;
While low the vi'let springs befide,
And in the fhade it ftrives to fhun

The hand of fome rapacious foe.

Of worth intrinfic, fmall the ftore
That from the tulip can arife,
When parted from its glowing bed:
While bid, the vi'let charms the more,
Like innocence in its native fkies,

When crop'd to grace the virgin head. Then think, ye fair ones, how these flow'rs Are wrought in nature's various robe: Where pride declines, and merit thrives, Your virgin dignity o'er-pow'rs

The heroes of the conquer'd globe;
But fweet compliance makes ye wives,

132

YE chearful virgins, have ye feen
My fair Myrtilla pass the green,
To rofe or jefs'mine bow'r?

Where does the feek the woodbine shade?
For fure ye know the blooming maid,
Sweet as the May-blown flow'r...

Her cheeks are like the maiden rofe,
oin'd with the lily as it blows,
Where each in fweetness vie;
Like dew-drops glift'ning in the morn,
When Phoebus gilds the flow'ring thorn,
Health sparkles in her eye.

Her fong is like the linnet's lay,
That warbles chearful on the spray,
To hail the vernal beam t

Her heart is blither than her fong, Her paffions gently move along,

Like the smooth gliding ftream.

133.

ADIEU, ye ftreams, that fmoothly flow;
Ye vernal airs, that foftly blow;
Ye plains, by blooming spring array'd;
Ye birds, that warble thro' the glade,
Ye birds, &c.

Unhurt from you, my foul could fly,
Nor drop one tear, nor hear one figh;
But, forc'd from Celia's fmiles to part,
All joy deferts my drooping heart,
All joy, &c.

O! fairer than the rofy morn,
When flow'rs the dewy field adorn;
Unfully'd as the genial ray,
That warms the gentle breeze of May,
That warms, &c.

Thy charms divinely fweet appear,
And add new fplendor to the year;
Improve the day with fresh delight,
And gild with joy the dreary night,
And gild, &c.

--- 134

12

THE glitt'ring fun begins to rife
On yonder hill, and paints the skies;
The lark his warbling matin fings;
Each flow'r in all its beauty fprings;
The village up, the fhepherd tries
His pipe, and to the woodland hies.
Oh! that on th' enamell'd g
green
My Delia, lovely maid, were feen,
Frefher than the roses bloom,
Sweeter than the meads perfume.
Go, gentle gales, and bear my fighs away,
To Delia's ear the tender notes convey:
As fome lone turtle his loft love deplores,
And with fhrill echoes fills the founding fhores,

Sa

So I, like him, abandon'd and forlora
With ceaseless plaints my abfent Delia mourn, Go,

LA

I know how to love, and to make that love known
But I hate all protefting and arguing:
Had a goddefs my heart, the fhould e'en lie alone,
If the made many words to a bargain.
I'm a quaker in love, and but barely affirm
Whate'er my fond eyes have been faying;
Pr'ythee be thou fo too; seek for no better term,
But e'en throw thy yea, or thy nay, in.

I cannot bear love like a Chancery fuit,

The age of a patriarch depending;
Then pluck up a fpirit; no longer be mute;
Give it, one way or other, an ending."

Long courtship's the vice of a phlegmatic fool,
Like the grace of fanatical finners; [cool,
Where the ftomachs are
s are loft, and the victuals grow
Before men fit down to their dinners.

Each rofey field did odours fpread,

All fragrant was the fhore;
Each river-god rofe from his bed,
And figh'd, and own'd her pow'r;
Curling their waves, they deck'd their heads,
As proud of what they bore.

So when the fair Egyptian queen
Her hero went to fee,

Cindus (well'd o'er her banks with pride,
As much in love as he.

Glide on, ye waters, bear these lines,
And tell her how diftrefs'd:"
Bear all my fight, ye gentle winds,
And waft e'm to her breaft:

Tell her, if e'er the proves unkind,

I never fhall have reft."

137

WHAT beauties does Flora difclofe
How fweet are her fmiles upon Tweed!
Yet Moggy's, ftill fweeter than thole,
Both nature and fancy exceed:
Nor daily, nor fweet blushing rofe,

Nor all the gay flowers of the field, Nor Tweed, gliding gently thro' thofe, Such beauty and pleafure does yield."

The warblers are heard in the grove..

The linnet, the lark, and the thrush; The black-bird, and Iweet cooing dove With mufic enchant ev'ry bush. Come, let us go forth to the mead,"

Let us fee how the primrofes fpring; We'll lodge in fome village on Tweed,"

And love while the feather'd folks fing.

How does my love pafs the long day?
Does Moggy not tend a few fheep?
Do they never carelessly tray,

༎

While, happily, the lies afleep? Tweed's murmurs fhould lull her to reft, Kind nature indulging my blifs, To relieve the foft pains of my breast, der I'd fteal an ambrofial kifs.

=fhe does the virgins excel;
Fo beauty with her may compare ;

='s graces all round her do dwelli

he's faireft when thoufands are fair. charmer, where do thy flocks ftray? h! tell me at noon where they feed? I feek them on fweet winding Tay, = the pleasanter bank of the Tweed? 138

E heavy hours are almoft paft, at part my love and me; onging eyes may hope, at laft, eir only with to fee: Low, my Delia, will you meet e man you've lost so long? love in all your pulses beat, d tremble on your tongue? you in ev'ry look declare, ar heart is fill the fame,... teal each idle anxious care, -fears in abfence frame? Delia, thus I paint the fcene, en we shall shortly meer, ry what yet remains between, loit ring time to cheat.

the dream that fooths my mind Il false and groundless prove; □ doom'd at length to find a you've forgot to love:

Venus ask, is this, mare to let us join ;

ant me here the flatt'ring blifs, ne, and think you mine.

Afk me not of empty toys,,
Feats of arms, and drunken joys;
I have pleasure more divine,
Woman, woman, woman's mine.
Raptures more than folly knows,
More than fortune e'er beftows;
Flowing bowls, and conquer'd fields,
Woman, woman, woman yields.
Afk me not of woman's arts,
Broken vows and, faithlefs hearts:
Tell me wretch, who pines and grieves.
Woman, woman, woman lives.

All delights the heart can know,
More than folly can bestow,

Wealth of worlds, and crowns of kings,
Woman, woman, woman brings,

The fair, the fmart, the witty,
'The fair, the fmart, the witty.
In Cupid's fetters, most severe,
I languish out a long, long year,
The flave of wanton Kitty,
The flave of wanton Kitty.
At length I broke the galling chain,
And fwore that love was endless pain,
One conftant fcene of folly,
One conftant, &c.

I vow'd no more to wear the yoke;
But foon I felt a fecond ftroke,

And figh'd for blue-ey'd Molly,
And figh'd, &c.

With treffes next of flaxen hue,
Young Jenny did my foul fubdue,
That lives in yonder valley,
That lives, &c.

Then Cupid threw another foare,
And caught me in the curling hair
Of little tempting Sally,
Of little, &c.

For thee their streams the Naiads roll, The daified hills are gay,

Where (emblems of Amelia's foul)
The fpotlefs lambkins play.
From vale to vale the Zephyrs rove,
To rob th' unfolding flow'rs;
And mufic melts in ev'ry grove,
To charm thy rural hours;
The warbling lark, high-poiz'd in air,
Exerting all his pride,

Will ftrive to please Amelia fair,
Who pleases all befide.

144

THE morning fresh, the fun in east

New gilds the fmiling day;
The morning fresh, &c.

The lark forfakes his dewy neft,
The fields all round are gaily dreft;
Arife, my love, and play, and play;
Arife, my love, and play.

Come forth, my fair, come forth, bright m
And blefs thy fhepherd's fight;

Come forth, &c.

Lend ev'ry folded flow'r thy aid,
Unveil the rofe's blufhing fhade,

And give them fweet delight,
And give, &c.

Thy prefence makes all nature smile,
Thofe fmiles your charms improve';
Thy prefence, &c.

Thy trains the lift'ning birds beguile,
And, as invite, reward their toil,
And tune their notes to love,
And tune, &c,

Beneath the fragrant hawthorn-tree,
The flow'rs in wreaths I'll twine;
Beneath, &c.

E'er other eyes ye beauties fee,
Then on my brows adorn'd shall be;
Thy happy fate be mine, be mine,
Thy happy fate be mine.