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If complaints thy foul can move,

Or mufic charm, the voice of love!
Hither, Goddess, ere too late,

Turn, and stop impending fate.

OVER earth, and fea, and sky,

Bid thy airy heralds fly;

With each balm which nature yields,

From the gardens, groves, and fields,

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From each flow'r of varied hue,

From each herb that fips the dew,

From each tree of fragrant bloom,

Bid the gales their wings perfume;
And, around fair CELIA's head,
All the mingled incense shed:

Till each living sweetness rise,
Paint her cheeks, and arm her eyes,

Mild as ev'ning's hurnid ray,

Yet awful as the blaze of day.

CELIA if the fates reftore,

Love and beauty weep no more :

But if they fnatch the lovely prize,

All that's fair in CELIA dies.

15

2Q

25

To

To a little GIRL whom I had offended;

H

An ODE,

Written at Twelve Years of Age,

OW long fhall I attempt in vain

Thy fmiles, my angel, to regain ?
I'll kiss your hand, I'll weep, I'll kneel;
Will nought, fair tyrant, reconcile?

THAT goldfinch, with her painted wings,
Which gayly looks, and sweetly fings;
That, and if aught I have more fine,
All, all, my charmer, fhall be thine.

WHEN next Mamma shall prove
I'll interpofe, and fave my dear.
Soften, my fair, those angry eyes,

fevere,

Nor tear thy heart with broken fighs:

Think, while that tender breast they strain,
For thee what anguish I sustain.

SHOULD

SHOULD but thy fair companions view, How ill that frown becomes thy brow;

With fear and grief in ev'ry eye,

Each would to each, aftonish'd, cry,

Heav'ns! where is all her fweetness flown!
How frange a figure now fhe's grown!
Run, NANCY, let us run, left we
Grow pettish aukward things, as the,

Trs done, 'tis done; my cherub fmiles,
My griefs fufpends, my fears beguiles :
How the quick pleasure heaves my breaft!

Ah! ftill be kind, and I'll be bleft!

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20

25

T

To LESBIA.

Trandated from CATULLUS.

HO' four loquacious age reprove,

Let us, my LESBIA, live for love :
For, when the fhort-liv'd funs decline,
They but retire more bright to shine :

Bu

But we, when when fleeting life is o'er
And light and love can bless no more;
Are ravish'd from each dear delight,

To fleep one long eternal night.

GIVE me of kiffes balmy store,

Ten thoufand, and ten thousand more ;
Still add ten thoufand, doubly fweet;
The dear, dear number still repeat:
And, when the fum so high shall swell,
Scarce thought can reach, or tongue can
Let us on kiffes kiffes croud,

Till number fink in multitude

T

e can tell

Left our full bliss should limits know,
And others, numb'ring, envious grow.

A TRANS

A TRANSLATION of

An Old ScoTTISH SONG.

(INCE robb'd of all that charm'd

SIN

Of all my foul e'er fancied fair,

Ye smiling native scenes, adieu !
With each delightful object there.

Ye vales, which to the raptur'd eye

of

my view,

Disclos'd the flow'ry pride of May;
Ye circling hills, whofe fummits high
Blush'd with the morning's earliest ray :

Where, heedlefs oft how far I ftray'd,

And pleas'd my ruin to pursue ; I fung my dear, my cruel maid

Adieu for ever! ah! adieu!

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10

Ye