441

WHY fleeps my foul! My love, arife!
Heav'n now wakes with all its eyes ;
All nature's up to gaze on you,
Her fole delight and glory too:
Awake to hear thy lover's lay';
Arife, my fair, and come away.

The filent moon full-orb'd now reigns,
And filver fhews the hills and plains,
That fragrant yield their rich perfume;
Confpiring, all invite to come;
Then why, my love, is this delay!
Arife, my fair, and come away.

The flowers fend forth their choicest sweets,
No fun disturbs with fultry heats;
Thefe, alone, are hours to prove
All the joys of peace and love,
No longer, then, my blifs delay;
But rife, my fair, and come away.
For, Nancy, when thou arr not near,
In vain do all these sweets appear ;

No powerful charms can they impart,
To please the fenfe, or eafe my heart:
In pity, then, no longer ftay;
But rife, my fair, and come away.
442

THE happy moments now are near,
When Delia promis'd to be here;
Calm ftilnefs rules, no zephyrs move,
The hour is foft, and calls to love.

But hark! there's mufic, 'tis her voice,
'Tis Delia fings-ye birds rejoice:
Hush every breeze, let nothing move,
For deareft Delia fings of love.
Come, let the foft enchanting scene,
These many walks for ever green;
Let this light-excluding grove
Incline my fair to hear of love.
Cupid is jealous of his pow'r;
O come then, this is Hymen's hour:
If Delia does my claim approve,
This is the hour for joy and love.

ป.

FArewell all the joys which of late I poffeft [ble When with Sylvia's bright prefence and fight! How fwift fled the hours, undisturbed with cart No fears durft intrude, when along with my far Her cheeks were like rofes, her shape like the Her perfon and action were surely divine;

To her perfon alone were not graces confin'd,
Tho' lovely her body, more charming her mind.
How fhort-liv'd is beauty! how frail is our ftate!
Ah, who can forefer the intentions of fate!
The roles are wither'd, infipid they lie!
Ah, who can be safe, when such beauty must die!
Poffeffing her, life would have been worth my care,
But now 'tis a burden I fcarcely can bear;

A dungeon would please me, poffeffing my fair;
In a palace unhappy, if abfent from her.

By her looks I was chear'd, and with eager delight
Could gaze at her beauty, from morning til night,
But fince fate was cruel enough to deprive

My life of its comfort, why fhould I furvive?

445

THE
laft time I came o'er the moor

I left my love behind me ;
Ye pow'rs what pain do I endure,
When foft ideas mind me!
Soon as the ruddy morn display'd
The beaming day enfuing,
I met betimes my lovely maid

In fit retreat for wooing.
Beneath the cooling fhade we lay
Gazing and chaftly sporting,
We kifs'd and promis'd time away,
'Till night spread her black curtain.
I pitied all beneath the fkies,

Ev'n kings when she was nigh me,
In raptures I beheld her eyes,
Which could but ill deny me.
In all my foul there's not one place
To let a rival enter;
Since the excels in every grace,
In her my love fhall center;
Sooner the feas fhall ceafe to flow,
Their waves the A'ps shall cover,
On Greenland ice fhall rofes grow,
Before I ceafe to lover her.

The next time I go o'er the moor,
She fhall a lover find me,

And that my faith is firm and pure,
Tho' I left her behind me ;
Then Hymen's facred bonds fhall chain
My heart to her fair bosom,
There, while my being does remain,
My love more fresh fhall bloffom.

446
THINK, my faireft, how delay,
Danger every moment brings,
Time flies fwift, and will away,
Time that's ever on the wing ;
Doubting and fufpence at beft,
Loyers late repentance coft,
Let us, eager to be bleft,
Seize occafion ere 'tis lost.

BEHOLD

448
my love the rofy morn
With ruffet mantle spread,
Again the infant tendrils fhoot
On ev'ry lawn and mead.

In ev'ry shrub wife nature view,
Her various laws difplay'd,
See dailies, cowflips, violets too
In diff'rent fuits array'd.

What hoary winter once had cropp'd,
And chill'd with nipping cold,
Sol's influence revives again

With rays of burnish'd gold.
The early lark that hails the morn,
See lofty tow'ring flies,

Hark how he tunes his throat to love, 'And rends the vaulted skies.

X3

When Phoebus does his beams difplay, To tell men gravely that 'tis day,

Is to fuppofe them blind.

455

YNTHIA frowns whene'er I woo her, -Yet the's vex'd if I give over; fuch the fears I should undo her, But much more to lose her lover. bus in doubting the refuses, nd not winning, thus fhe lofess r'ythee, Cynthia, look behind you, Age and wrinkles will o'ertake you, hen, too late, defire will find you, When the power does forlake you. 'hink, oh! think, the fad condition, o be paft, yet wish fruition.

4:56
BURST clouds and tempefts roar,
Ye rains in torrents pour,

To quench this raging flame,
Let awful thunder roll,
And dreadful Boreas howl,
When I repeat her name.

May Sal forget to rife,
Nor vifit more the skies,
Till 1 Lucinda find:
In vain fhall I implore
Kind heav'n to restore,

My love her peaceful mind.

457

YOUNG Arabella, mama's care,

And ripe to be a bride,

Had charms a monarch might enfnare,
But beauty mixt with pride.
And still to blast that happiness,
Her pride each lover cool'd;
The number of her flaves was lefs,
And lefs the tyrant rul'd.

Her fifter Charlotte, tho' not blefs'd,
With beauty's potent fpell,

The virtues of the mind poffefs'd,
And bore away the belle:

Knights, Earls, and Dukes, like fummer-flies,
Around the maiden flew ;

They prefs'd to tell ten thousand lies,
As men are apt to do.

Fond Celadon address'd the fair,
Refolv'd no time to lofe;

A youth with fuch a shape and air,
What female could refufe !

Like all the rett, he own'd his flame,
His artless flame alone;

The blushing maid confefs'd the same,
The priest foon made them one.

Poor Arabella vex'd to find
Her fifter made a wife,
Pretends to rail at all mankind,
And praise a fingle life.

Ye virgins, Charlotte's plan purfue,
Shun Arabella's fate,

Accept the man that's worthy you,
Before it is too late.

458
PHOEBUS, meaner themes dildaining,

To the lyrift's call repair,
And the ftrings to rapture ftraining,
Come and praife the British fair.

Chiefs throughout the land victórious,
Born to conquer and to spare,
Were not gallant, were not glorious,

Till commanded by the fair.

All the works of worth or merit,
Which the fons of art prepare,
Have no pleasure, life, or spirit,

But as borrow'd from the fair,
Reason is as weak as paffion,

But if you for truth declare. Worth and manhood are the fashion, Favour'd by the British fair,

459

You tell me my Chloe inconftant is grown,

That her rofes and lilies are not all her own;
Well let it be fo, 'tis the fame thing to me,
For trifies like thefe we will ne'er difagree,'
Or from art or from nature I care not I vow,
While peace and good humour do fmile on her brow
Or from art, &c.

I remember the time when my Chloe was known,
Superior to moft, and inferior to none.
Beauty like flowers on a hot fummer's day,
No fooner in bloom but it falls to decay

And though the be false, while to me its unknown,

I'll keep, kifs, and love her, for what she has done.

460
SHEPHERDS, I have loft my love,
Have you feen my Anna?
Pride of ev'ry fhady grove,
Upon the banks of Banna,
I for her my home forlook,
Near yon mifty mountain;
Left my flock, my pipe, my crook,

Greenwood fhade and fountain.

Never shall I fee them more,

Until her returning;
All the joys of life are o'er,

From gladnefs chang'd to mourning.
Whither is my charmer flown;
Shepherds, tell me whither?
Ah! woe for me, perhaps the's gone,
For ever, and for ever.

What's Lydia's clear skin, or Chloe's bright eyes?
When Delia is near, their charms I despise.
You fay I'm inconflant, and fain would perfwade,
profefs the fame paffion to ev'ry maid;
The fault is your own, would you leave your referv
Each fair I'd relinguifh, thy love to deferve."
T'other day, now for inftance, you vow'd in the grov
You'd meet your fond fhepherd, and lift to his love
My paffions wound high, your promise you fail'd,
Chance brought the young Chloe, & Chloe prevail'd.
Laft Thursday at wake, you declar'd on the green.
You'd dance with your fhepherd, as foon as 'twa
But before I arriv'd, you chofe to depart, [e'en
I gave Lydia my hand, but thou hadst my heart.
But Delia is haughty, and Delia is coy,
And Delia ere long, my flame will deftroy;
Then confider ye fair, while love ye deride,
The flaves you enfnare, may be freed by your pride
462
WHO upon the oozy beach,

Can count the num'rous fands that lie ;
Or diftinctly reckon each

Tranfparent orb that that ftuds the sky? As their maltitude betray,

And fruftrate all attempts to tell

So 'tis impoffible to fay,

How much I love, I love fo well.

463

ON thy banks, gentle Stour, when I breath'dthefal
To Chloe's fweet accents attentive fat mute; [flute
To her voice with what tranfport I fwell'd the flo
Or return'd dying measures in echoes again; [ftrain
Little Cupid beat time, and the graces around
Taught with even divisions to vary the found.
From my Chloe remov'd, when I bid it complain.
Or warble fmooth numbers to footh love-fick pain,
How much alter'd it seems, as the rifing notes flo
Or the foft falling trains, how infipidly ftow!
I will play them no more-for 'tis her her voice alo
Muft enrapture my foul to caliven its one,

WA