From an OFFICER to his MISTRESS.

To the Tune of, To you fair Ladies.

T°

1.

O Country Quarters now confin'd,
From Upton Town I write,

Why can't my Body, like my Mind,

To Katy take its Flight?

Ah, Katy! if a wifh could do,

I would be quarter'd foon on you.

With a Fa, la, la, la, b

II.

While I figh here, my Love-fick Heart

Is left with Thee behind;

Alas! why should our Bodies part,

When both our Souls are join'd?

My Body to my PRINCE is true, }
My Soul its Orders takes from You.
With a Fa, &c.

III.

When heavy beat of dull Tattoo

Commands the Soldier home,

The Hopes, my Dreams will be of you,
Give Mufick to the Drum;.

Wak'd by the Morning Reveille,
I only wake to think of Thee.

With a Fa, &c.

IV.

My blooming Hopes of seeing you,
Are wither'd in my Prime,
Confin'd to wait for a Review,
Ah, why is this the Time?
What is the dull Review to me,

When Katy is not there to see?

With a Fa, &c.

V.

But once releas'd from this Command,

I'll fly to thy dear Breast,

As

As the fwift

Carrier springs from Hand,

To his forfaken Neft;

Then ev'ry Night, and ev'ry Kifs

Shall pay my long Arrears of Bliss.
With a Fa, &c.

HORACE's Prayer to APOLLO.

W

Quid Dedicatum pofcit Apollinem,
Vates?

Hor. Lib 1. Ode 31.

HILST to the GOD my purple Clusters flow,

What would the Poet have the GoD beftow?

He covets not the Stores SARDINIA yields,

The bending Harvest of her yellow Fields;
Nor fleecy Flocks CALABRIA's Mountains breed,
Nor lowing Herds her fertile Pastures feed,
Nor verdant Lawns where Lyris gently flows,
And eats his winding Channel as he goes.
No coftly Ornaments of Iv'ry, born
From India, fha'll my humble Roof adorn.
The Gold shall fleep within its Native Mine,
Nor fhall the Gem for me be taught to shine.

* The Carrier is a fort of Pidgeon, us'd in Turkey for carrying Letters.

C 2

Ler

Let FORTUNE'S Minions make their Preffes flow,
And crowd the precious Stores in Vaults below.
Who ploughs the Ocean with aufpicious Sails,
And bribes the Gods to send him prosp’rous Gales;
Let him truck SYRIAN Odours, Balms and Spice,
For Wine dear-purchas'd to fupply his Vice;
Let him in foaming Brimmers chear his Soul,
And oft recruit his oft exhausted Bowl.

Give me a wholfome Sallad from the Fields,
The artless Food that Nature frankly yields;
Health be my Relish, and Content my Store,
Grant me this humble Wish, I ask no more.
Only, Thou Go D of Numbers, and the trembling Lyre,
Do Thou my Musick and my Verse inspire;
And when refiftlefs TIME at length shall shed
His hoary Honours on my wither'd Head,

Still may the pleafing Vein profufely flow,
Still may thy heav'nly Fire within this Bofom glow.

To

W

To a LADY, on her PARROT.

HEN Nymphs were coy, and Love could not
prevail,

The GODS difguis'd were feldome known to fail:
LEDA was chaft, but yet a feather'd JOVE
Surpriz'd the Fair, and taught her how to love.
There's no Celestial but his Heaven would quit,.
For any Form which might to thee admit.
See how the wanton BIRD at ev'ry Glance,

Swells his glad Plumes, and feels an am'rous Trance.
The QUEEN of Beauty has forfook the Do vE,
Henceforth the PARROT be the BIRD of Love.

ODE for St. CECILIA's Day at OXFORD.

LE

By Mr. ADDISON.

ET all CECILIA's Praife proclaim,
Employ the Echo in her Name.

Hark how the Flutes and Trumpets raise,
At bright CECILIA's Name their Lays;
The Organ labours in her Praife.

C 3

}

CECILIA'S