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How easy was Collo, how blithë and how gay i

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Erè he met the fair Chloris, how sprightly his lay!
So graceful her form, so accomplish'd her mind,
Sure pity, he thought, with such charms must be join'd :

Whenever the danc'd; or wħienever she suns,
How just was her motion, how sweet was her tongue !
And when the youth told her his passionate flame,
She allow'd him to fancy her heart felt the same.

With ardour he press'd her to think him fincerë,
But alas ! she redoubled each hope and each fear ;
She would not deny, nor she would not approve,
And the neither refus'd him, nor gave him her love.

Now cheard by complacence, now froze by disdain,
He languish'd for freedom, but languish'd in vain :
Till Thyrfis, who pity'd so helpless a slave,
Eas'd his heart of its pain by the counsel he gave.

Forsake her, said be, and reject ber awhile;
If she love you, the foon will return with a smile:
Vol. IV.


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You can judge of her passion by abfence alone,
And by absence will conquer her heart or your own.

This advice he pursu'd; but the remedy prov'd
Too fatai, alas! to the fair one he lov'd;
Which cur'd his own passion, but left her in vain
To figh for a heart she could never regain.

I. S. H.

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By a Lady of Quality.
ARK to the blackbird's pleasing note :

Sweet usher of the vocal throng !
Natüre directs his warbling throat,

And all that hear, admire the song.



Yon' bulfinch, with unvary'd tone,

Of cadence harsh, and accent shrill,
Has brighter plumage to attone

For want of harmony and kill.

Yet, difcontent with nature's boon,

Like man, to mimick art he flies;
On operá-pinions hoping foon

Unrival'd he shall mount the fies.

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And while, to please some courtly fair,

He one dull tone with labour learns,
A well.gile cage remote from air,

And faded plumes, is all he earns !

Go, hapless captive ! still repeat

The founds which nature never taught;
Go, listening fáir! and call them sweet,

Because you know them dearly bought.

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Unenvy'd both ! go hear and fing

Your ftudy'd musick o'er and o'er
Whild I attend th inviting spring,

In fields where birds unfetter d soar.

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THL fan, his gladsome beams withdrawn;

The ,
Leave me dejected and forlorn

Who can describe my woe?

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But not the sun's warm beams could cheat,

Nor hills, tho' e'er so green, Unless


Damon should appear,
To beautify the scene.

The frozen brooks, and pathless vales,

Disjoin my love and me!
The pining bird his fate bewails

On yonder leafless tree !
But what to me are birds or brooks,

Or any joy that's near ?
Heavy the lute, and dull the books,

While Damon is not here!


The Laplander, who, half the year,

Is wrapt in shades of night,
Mourns not, like me, his winter drear;

Nor wishes more for light.
But what were light without my love,

Or objects e'er fo fine?
The flowery meadow, field, or grove,

If Damon be not mine ?


Each moment, from my dear away,

Is a long age of pain;
Fly swift, ye hours, be calm the day,

That brings my love again!


O haste and bring him to my arms

Nor let us ever part:
My breast shall beat no more alarms,

When I secure his heart,

Written to a near Neighbour in a tempestuous

Night 1748.

By the Same,

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OU bid


Muse not cease to sing,
You bid my ink not cease to flow;
Then say it ever shall be fpring,

And boisterous winds shall never blow;
When you such miracles can prove,
I'll fing of friendship, or of love.

But now, alone, by forms oppreft,

Which harshly in my ears resound;
No chearful voice with witty jest,

No jocund pipe to fill the found ;
Untrain'd beside in verse-like art,
How shall my pen express my heart?

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