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Tho' wit might gild the tempting fnare,
With fofteft accent, sweetest air,
By Envy's felf admir'd;

If Lefbia's wit betray'd her scorn,
In vain might every grace adorn,
What every Mufe infpir'd.

Thus airy Strephon turn'd his lyre
He scorn'd the pangs of wild desire,
Which love-fick fwains endure:

Refolv'd to brave the keenest dart;
Since frowns could never wound his heart,
And fmiles-muft ever cure.

But ah! how false these maxims prove,
How frail fecurity from love,

Experience hourly shows!
Love can imagin'd fmiles fupply,
On every charming lip and eye
Eternal sweets bestows.

In vain we truft the Fair-one's eyes;
In vain the fage explores the skies,
To learn from stars his fate :
"Till led by fancy wide astray,
He finds no planet mark his way;
Convinc'd and wife
too late.

As partial to their words we prove;
Then boldly join the lifts of love,

With towering hopes supply'd:
So heroes, taught by doubtful fhrines,

Miftook their Deity's defigns;
and dy'd.

Then took the field

The DYING K I D.

By the Same.

Optima quæque dies miferis mortalibus ævi
Prima fugit

A

TEAR bedews my Delia's eye,

To think yon playful kid must die
From cryftal fpring, and flowery mead,
Muft, in his prime of life, recede!
Erewhile, in fportive circles round

She faw him wheel, and frisk, and bound;
From rock to rock pursue his way,

And, on the fearful margin, play.

Pleas'd on his various freaks to dwell,
She faw him climb my ruftic cell;
Thence eye my lawns with verdure bright,
And feem all ravish'd at the fight.

She tells with what delight he stood,
To trace his features in the flood:
Then skip'd aloof with quaint amaze;
And then drew near, again to gaze.
See tells me, how with eager speed
He flew, to hear my vocal reed;
And how, with critic face profound,
And ftedfaft ear, devour'd the found.

VIRG.

His every frolic, light as air,
Deferves the gentle Delia's care;
And tears bedew her tender eye,
To think the playful kid must die.
But knows my Delia, timely wife,
How foon this blameless æra flies?
While violence and craft fucceed;
Unfair defign, and ruthless deed!

Soon would the vine his wounds deplore,
And yield her purple gifts no more;
Ah foon, eras'd from every grove
Were Delia's name, and Strephon's love.
No more thofe bow'rs might Strephon fee,
Where first he fondly gaz'd on thee;
No more those beds of flow'rets find,
Which for thy charming brows he twin'd.
Each wayward paffion foon would tear
His bofom, now fo void of care;
And, when they left his ebbing vein,
What, but infipid age, remain ?:

Then mourn not the decrees of fate,

That

gave his life fo fhort a date; And I will join thy tendereft fighs, To think that youth fo fwiftly flies!

C 3

LOVE

LOVE SONGS, the Year 1737 and 1743.

I

1743.

SONG I.

written between

By the Same.

Told my nymph, I told her true,

My fields were fmall, my flocks were few;

While faltering accents fpoke my fear,
That Flavia might not prove fincere.

Of crops deftroy'd by vernal cold,
And vagrant sheep that left my fold;
Of these she heard, yet bore to hear;
And is not Flavia then fincere ?

How chang'd by Fortune's fickle wind,
The friends I lov'd became unkind,
She heard, and shed a generous tear;
And is not Flavia then fincere?

How, if the deign'd my love to bless,
My Flavia muft not hope for drefs;
This too fhe heard, and fmil'd to hear;
And Flavia fure must be fincere.

Go fhear your flocks, ye jovial fwains,
Go reap the plenty of your plains;
Defpoil'd of all which you revere,
I know my Flavia's love fincere.

SONG

H

II. The LANDSKIP.
OW pleas'd within my native bowers
Erewhile I pass'd the day!

Was ever scene fo deck'd with flowers?

Were ever flowers fo gay?

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How sweetly fmil'd the hill, the vale,
And all the landskip round!

The river gliding down the dale!
The hill with beeches crown'd!

But now, when urg'd by tender woes
I speed to meet my dear,

That hill and stream my zeal oppose,
And check my fond career.

No more, fince Daphne was my theme,
Their wonted charms I fee:

That verdant hill, and filver stream,
Divide my love and me.

SONG III.

YE gentle nymphs and generous dames rule o'er every British mind;

Be fure ye

foothe their amorous flames,

Be fure your laws are not unkind.

For hard it is to wear their bloom

In unremitting fighs away:

To mourn the night's oppreffive gloom,
And faintly blefs the rifing day.

And cruel 'twere a free-born fwain,
A British youth should vainly moan;
Who fcornful of a tyrant's chain,
Submits to yours, and yours alone.
C 4

Nor

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