E watchful guardians of the fair,
Who skiff on wings of ambient air,
Of my dear Delia take a care;
And represent her lover,
With all the gaiety of youth,
With honour, justice, love, and truth;
Till I return, her paffions footh,
For me, in whispers move her.
Be careful no base fordid slave,
With foul funk in a golden grave,
Who knows no virtue but to fave,
With glaring gold bewitch her:
Tell her, for me fhe was defign'd;
For me, who know how to be kind,
And have more plenty in my mind
Than one who's ten times richer.
Let all the world turn upfide down,
And fools run an eternal round,
In quest of what can ne'er be found,
To please their vain ambition :
Let little minds great charms efpy
In fhadows which at distance lie,
Whofe hop'd-for pleasures, when come nigh,
Prove nothing in fruition.
But, caft into a mold divine,
Fair Delia does with luftre shine,
Her virtuous foul's an ample mine,
Which yields a conftant treasure:
Let poets, in fublimest lays,
Imploy their skill her fame to raise;
Let fons of mufick pass whole days,
With well-tun'd reeds to please her.
ELINDA, ever beauteous fair,
Pity your constant swain;
Ah! kindly listen to his prayer,
And fhow no more disdain.
See how his looks declare his mind;
His bofom how it moves?
View well his eyes, and there you'll find
How much, how deep he loves.
Then, gentle fair, no more be coy,
Nor give me more alarms
But give a loose to love and joy,
And take me to thy arms.
LOE, why fo long denying? Why fo long your lover flying? Think in time, and eafe my pain, E'er you kill me with disdain.
View yonder blooming blushing rofe How it does all thy charms disclose : But fee! how foon 'tis wither'd grown, And all at once its beauties flown.
How fragrant it appear'd before;
But now, alas! its charms are o'er :
Fair maid, let this a warning prove,
And, while 'tis time, reward my love.
Take heed, fair bloffom, and beware,
E'er fleeting time your charms impair :
For all the beauties of thy face,
Tho 'now fo gay, in time, will pass:
The darts within your radiant eyes, That now can make each heart a prize, Too foon, alas! will fruitless prove, And have no force to kindle lave,
OUNG Philoret and Celia met
In an old fhady grove;
The nymph was coy,
The am'rous boy
Still figh'd, and talk'd of love.
He prais'd her face, her air, her grace,
Her lovely charming mien;
And fwore the was the brightest lafs,
That trip'd it on the green.
With artful tongue,
The fhepherd fung,
And told a melting tale ;
But all his art
Cou'd n't touch her heart,
Nor all his skill prevail.
Th' infulting fair,
With fcornful air,
Still mock'd the love-fick swain ;
And while he figh'd,
She'd pleasure in his pain.
Beffy Bell and Mary Gray.
Belly Bell, and Mary Gray,
They are twa bonny lasses,
The bigg'd a bower on yon burn-brae,
And theek'd it o'er wi' rashes.
Fair Belly Bell I lov'd yeftreen,
And thought I ne'er cou'd alter;
But Mary Gray's twa pawky een,
They gar my fancy falter.
Now Beffy's hair's like a lint-tap,
She smiles like a May-morning,
When Phoebus starts frae Thaetis lap,
The hills with rays adorning :
White is her neck, faft is her hand,
Her waist and feet's fow genty,
With ilka grace fhe can command;
Her lips, O wow! they're dainty.
And Mary's locks are like the craw,
Her eye like diamonds glances;
She's ay fae clean, redd-up, and braw,
She kills whene'er the dances:
Blyth as a kid, with wit at will,
She blooming, tight, and tall is;
And guides her airs fae gracefu' still,
Fove! fhe's like thy Pallas.
X. 3
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