504

WE all to conquering beauty bow,
It's pleafing power admire ;
But I ne'er knew a face till now,
That cou'd like yours infpire:
Now I may fay I've met with one
Amazes all mankind;

And, like men gazing on the fun,
With too much ligh am blind.
Soft as the tender mvoing fighs,
When longing lovers meet;
Like the divining prophets wife,
Like new-blown rofes fweet;

Modeft, yet gay; referv'd, yet free;
Each happy night a bride;

A mien like awful majefty,
And yet no spark of pride.
The patriarch, to win a wife,
Chafte, beautiful and young,
erv'd fourteen years a painful life,
And never thought it long:
th! were you to reward fuch care,
And life fo long would stay,
Tot fourteen, but four hundred years,
Would seem but as one day.

505

Go gentle breeze, that fans the grove, And waft in fighs a lover's woes; through the blooming garden rove, And lodge within the damask rofe; ev'ry blushing fold made known, bat Colin's fighs exceed thy own. eneath her crimfon foliage lie, Till on my Delia's bofom bleft; hen from thy filken covert fly, And plead my cause within her breast, at never leave that frozen part, alefs to bring me Delia's heart.

506 Low blithe, within my native wild, I trod each paffing day!

When Sylviane fondly fmil'd,

And lov'd her fhepherd's lay. The furze, the brake, the rugged hill, The wild heath's yellow broom, With her wou'd all my wishes fill; My heart ne'er felt a gloom. But now, remote from her I love, The fairest paftures fade;

I feek the folitary grove,

And turn it's winding fhade. Where gay imagination toys,

To chear my penfive mind; With pleafing hopes pay bofom joys, And paints the maiden kind. 507

HUSH,

I, ye birds, your amorous tales,
Purling rills in filence move!
Softly breathe, ye gentle gales,
Left ye wake my flumb'ring love,

O the joy beyond expreffion,
That enchanting form to own!
Then to hear the foft confeffion,
That her heart is mine alone.

508

DEAR Sylvia, hear thy faithful fwain,

And eafe his tortur'd breaft;
Ah, hear an artless youth complain,
And fet his heart to reft!

That virtue which illumes thy mind,
That fenfe devoid of art;

That innocence with fweetness joyn'd,
Does captivate his heart.

Thou dear invader of my breast,

How long muft I repine!

How long with grief be fore opprefs'd,
Ere I can call thee mine!

O deign to hear the vows I fwear,
And all my fears remove;
Relieve me, then, from fad defpair,
And bless me with thy love.

The northern winds fhall cease to blow,

And dark fhall be the skies;
The purling ftreams fhall cease to flow,
And Sol forget to rife;

No more the meads fhall gay appear,
Nor fhepherd's grace the grove;
If e'er my vows prove infincere,
Or I forfake my love.

509

DID ever fwain or nymph adore,
As I ungrateful Nanny do?
Was ever shepherd's heart fo fore,

Or ever broken heart fo true?

My cheeks are fwell'd with tears, but the Has never wet a cheek for me.

If Nanny call'd, did e'er I ftay,

Or linger when the bid me run?
She only had the word to fay,

And all the wifh'd was quickly done.
I alway think of her, but the
Does ne'er beftow a thought on me.

To let her cows my clover tafte,

Have I not rofe by break of day!
Did ever Nanny's heifers faft,

If Robin in his barn had hay!
Tho' to my fields they welcome were,
I ne'er was welcome yet to her.

If ever Nanny loft a fheep,

I chearfully did give her two; And I her lambs did fafely keep

Within my folds in froft and fnow! Have they not there from cold been free? But Nanny fill is cold to me.

1

When Nanny to the well did come,

'Twas I that did her pitchers fill; Full as they were, I brought them home, Her corn I carried to the mill; My back did bear the fack, but the Will never bear a figh of me.

To Nanny's poultry oats I gave,

I'm fure they alway's had the best; Within this week her pidgeons have

Eat up a peck of peafe at leaft Her little pigeons kifs, but the Will never take a kifs from me. Mut Robin always Nanny woo,

And Nanny fill on Robin frown; Alas, poor wretch! what shall I do,

If Nanny does not love me foon!
If no eler to me fhe'll bring,
I'll hang me in her apron-string.
510

DOES the languid foul complain,
Virtuous love fhall chafe the pain;
Or if love wou'd truth attend,
Honour thou'd be virtue's friend.
Glory is not half fo fair
As bright virtue's rifing ftar;
Female truth, with fenfe combin'd,
Wins and claims the gen'rous mind.

SAYS my uncle, I pray now discover
What has been the caufe of your woes,
That you pine and you whine like a lover?
I've feen Molly Mogg of the rofe!

O nephew your grief is but folly,
To town you may find better prog;
Haff a crown there will get you Molly,
A Molly much better than Mogg.
The fchool-boy's delight is a play,
The fchool-mafter's joy is to flogi
A fop's the delight of a lady,

But mine is in fweet Molly Mogg.

Will Wijp leads the trav❜ler a-gadding
Thro' ditch, and thro' quagmire and bog;
But no light can e'er fet me a-madding,

But the eyes of my fweet Molly Mogg.
For guineas in other men's breeches
Your gamefters will paum and will cog;
But I envy them none of their riches,
So I paum my fweet Mally Mogg.

I implore you,

The heart that's half wounded is ranging,
It here and there leaps like a frog;
But my heart can never be changing,
'Tis fo fixed on fweet Molly Mogg.
I know that by wits 'tis recited,
That women, at beft, are a clog;
But I'm not fo eafily trighted
From loving my sweet Molly Mogg.
1 letter when I am inditing,
Comes Capid, and gives me a jog,
And I fill all my paper with writing
Of nothing but fweet Molly Mogg
feel I'm in love to diffraction,
My fenfes are loft in a fog;
nd in nothing can find fatisfaction,

But in thoughts of my fweet Molly Mogg.
I would not give up the three graces,
I wish I were hang'd like a dog,

nd at court all the drawing room faces,
For a glance at my fweet Molly Mogg.
r those faces want nature and spirit,
And feem as cut out of a log;
ino Venus, and Pallas's merrit
Unite in my sweet Molly Mogg.
Tere Virgil alive with his Phillis,
And writing another Eclogue,
xth his Phillis and fair Amaryllis
He'd give for my fweet Molly Mogg.
hen Molly comes up with the liquor,
Then jealoufy fets me a-gog;
> be fure the's a bit for the vicar,
And so I shall lofe Molly Mogg.

512

Weeteft of pretty maids, let Cupid incline thee accept of a faithful heart which now I refign thee; orning all felfish ends, regardless of money, yields only to the girl that's gen'rous and bonny.. Take me, Jenny,

Let me win you,
Whilft I'm in the humour;

I adore you,

What can mortal do more;

Kifs upon't, kifs upon't, turn not so shyly, Ther's my hand, and ther's my heart, which never will beguile thee.

Bright are thy lovely eyes, thy fweet lips delighting, Well polish'd thy iv'ry neck, thy round arms inviting; Oft at the milk-white churn with rapture I've seen But oh! how I figh'd, & wifh'd my own arms [them, Take me Jenny, &c. [between them!

I've store of sheep my love, and goats on the mountain
And water to brew good ale, from yon chryftal foun-
I've, too, a pretty cot. with garden and land to't,[tain
But all will be doubly weet, if you put a hand to’t.
Take me Jenny,

Let me win you,
While I'm in the humour;
I implore you,

I adore you,

What can mortal do more;

Kifs upon't, kifs upon't, turn not fo fhyly, Ther's my hand, and ther's my heart, which never will beguile thee.

SAY

513

not, Olinda, I defpife

The faded glories of your face, The languid vigour of your eyes,

And that once-lov'd embrace.

In vain, in vain, my constant heart
On aged wings attempts to meet,
With wonted fpeed, thofe flames you dart,
It faints, and flutters at your feet.

I blame not your decay of power,

You may have pointed beauties kill Tho' me, alas! they wound no more;

You cannot hurt what cannot feel. On youthful climes your beams difplay, There you may cherish with your heat, And rife the fun to gild their day,

To me, benighted, when you fet.

SWAIN,

515

'TIS not my Patty's sparkling eyes,
Her air, her eafy grace,

Her thrilling accents, that I prize. ・・
Or yet her blooming face.

Such charms as these in others fhine,
Whose beauty's all they boaft;
But when that beauty does decline,
Their greatest power is loft.
But lovely Patty's wit refin'd,
Her fenfe, good-nature, eafe,
Divine perfections of the mind,
And firm defire to please:

'Tis these that raife the maiden's fame,
That pomp defire and love,
And kindle in my breast a flame
That time can ne'er remove.

But from my tender bleeding heart,
Withdraw the arrow, ease the fmart;
Offend no more great angry Jove,
But pity, fince you cannot love!

517

THE nobleft heart, like pureft gold,
Refifts impreffions whilft 'tis cold;
But melted down in love's bright flame,
Soft and complying to the test,
It takes the image first imprest,
And bears it in the faithful breast,
Through circling years the fame.

518
Throughout the nation, Sir, find me a laft,
That's loving, engaging, and pretty;
She freely into my affection fhall país,
As fure as there's fools in the city.

And if the proves kind, Sir, why I fhall prove t
And juftly efteem her my treasure;
But fhould fhe befcornful, what then fhall I do!
Why, faith, I'll dismiss her with pleasure.
519

THE trav'llers, that through deferts ride
By conduct of fome friendly star;
When clouds obfcure their trufty guide,
Out of their course must wander far:

So I, with penfive care and pain,
In abfence ftill must fray;
Till you, my star, fhine out again,
And light me on my way,
520

'TIS done, I've rais'd a rural bow'r

Deep in the twilight fhade:

There blooms full many a lovely flow'r;
Ah! wou'd they never fade.

Come, then, my Lucy, hafte away,
And nature's manfion view;
Screen'd from the fun's too piercing ray,
Each flower blooms for you.

A fpy inform`d, honour was there,

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t

At your command, thy fhepherd ftrove'.
To deck the fhady green :
You faid the spot was form'd for love;.,
I heard, and bleft the scene.

Ah! let it not be bleft in vain;
But there reward my truth:
Repay thy conftant Harry's pain
With innocence and tuth.

521

'TIS now, fince I fat down before

That foolish fort, a heart,

(Time ftrangely spent) a year and more, And ftill I did my part.

Made my approaches, from her hand
Unto her lip did rife,
And did already understand
The language of her eyes.

'roceeded on with no lefs art,
My tongue was engineer;

thought to undermine the heart, By whifp'ing in the ear.

When this did nothing, I brought down
Great cannon oaths and fhot

A thousand thoufand in the town,
And ftill it yielded not,

then refolv'd to ftarve the place,
By cutting off all kifles,
raifing and gazing on her face,
And all fuch little bliffes.

To draw her out, and from her strength,
I drew all batteries in;

And brought myself to lie, at length,
As if no hege had been.

When I had done what man could do,
Aud thought the place my own,

The enemy lay quiet too,

And fmil'd at all was done."

fent to know from whence and where Thefe hopes, and this relief?

་ ་ ་་་

And did command in chief.

March, march, (quoth 1) the word ftraight give, Let's lofe no time, but leave her;

That giant upon air will live,

And hold it out for ever.

To fuch a place or camp remove
As will no fiege abide :

I hate a fool that starves her love
Only to feed her pride.

522

THoughtlefs of all, but love and you,
From place to place I range,
But ftill no happiness I know,
No pleafure by the chauge.

The murm'ring. ftream, the fruitful field,
The plain, the fhady grove,
Alike to me, no pleasure yield,
When abfent from my love.
Yet if my Delia but appears,
How chang'd is all the fcene!
Nature a gayer livery wears;
And I forgot my pain.

The murm'ring ftream, the fruitful field,
The plain, the fhady grove,

Alike to me, all pleasure yield,
When bleft with her I love.