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Then to her I cry aloud,

And labour to reach the sky.

When thus I have rav'd a while,
And wearied my self in vain,
I lie on the barren foil,

And bitterly do complain;
Till flumber hath quieted me,
In forrow I figh and weep;
The clouds are my canopy,
To cover me while I fleep.

I dream that my charming fair
Is then in my rival's bed,
Whofe treffes of golden hair
Are on the fair pillow fpread :
Then this does my paffion inflame,
I start, and no longer can lie ;
Ah! Silvia, art thou not to blame
To ruin a lover, I cry.

Grim king of the ghosts, be true,
And hurry me hence away,
My languishing life to you
A tribute I freely pay;

To th' Elifan fhades I poft,
In hopes to be freed from care,
Where many a bleeding ghost
Is hovering in the air.

Befs

FR

Bels of Bedlam.

ROM filent fhades, and the Elifium groves, Where fad departed fpirits mourn their loves; From crystal streams, and from that country, where Fove crowns the fields with flowers all the year, Poor fenfeless Befs, cloath'd in her rags and folly, Is come to cure her love-fick melancholy.

Bright Cynthia kept her revels late,

While Mab, the fairy queen, did dance; And Oberon did fit in slate,

When Mars at Venus ran his lance.

In yonder cowflip lies my dear,
Intomb'd in liquid gems of dew;
Each day I'll water it with a tear,
Its fading bloffom to renew.

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I'll lay me down and die,
Within some hollow tree;

The raven and cat,

The owl and bat,
Shall warble forth my elegy.

Did you not fee my love
As he past by you,
His two flaming eyes,

If he comes nigh you,
They will scorch up your hearts;

Ladies, beware you,

Left he should dart a glance
That may enfnare you.

Hark, hark, I hear old, Charon bawl,
His boat he will no longer stay;
The furies lafh their whips, and call,
Come, come away; come, come away.

Poor Befs will return

To the place when the came,

Since the world is fo mad fhe can hope for no cure; For love's grown a bubble,

A fhadow, a name,

Which fools do admire, and wife men endure.

Cold and hungry am I grown,

Ambrofia will I feed upon,
Drink nectar still, and fing:

Who

Who is content,

Does all forrow prevent;
And Bess in her straw,

Whilft free from the law,

In her thoughts is as great as a king.

CELIA's Complaint.

REMEMBER, Damon, you did tell,

In chastity you lov'd me well;

But now, alas! I am undone,
And here am left to make my moan.

To doleful fhades I will remove, Since I'm defpis'd by him I love, Where poor forfaken nymphs are feen, In lonely walks of willow green.

Upon my dear's deluding tongue,
Such foft perfuafive language hung,
That when his words had filence broke,
You wou'd have thought an angel spoke.

Too happy nymph, whoe'er fhe be
That now enjoys my charming he;
For oh! I fear it, to my cost,
She's found the heart that I have lost.

Beneath

Beneath the fairest flower on earth,
"A fnake may hide, or take its birth;
So his falfe breaft, conceal it did
His heart, the fnake that there lay hid

'Tis falfe, who fays we happy are, Since men delight our hearts t'enfnare: In man no woman can be bleft;

Their vows are wind, their love's a jest.

Ye gods, in pity to my grief,
Send me my Damon, or relief:
Return that wild delicious boy,
Whom once I thought my spring of joy.

But whilst I'm begging of this bliss,
Methinks I hear you answer this;
When Damon bas enjoy'd, he flies ;
Who fees bim, loves; who loves him, dies.

There's not a bird that haunts this grove, But is a witness of my love;

Echo repeats my plaintive moans,

The waters imitate iny groans,

The trees their bending boughs recline,
And droop their heads, as I do mine.

VOL. II.

2

Beanty

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