Beware how you loiter in vain

Amid nymphs of an higher degree: It is not for me to explain

How fair, and how fickle, they be.

Alas! from the day that we met,
What hope of an end to my woes?
When I cannot endure to forget

The glance that undid my repose.
Yet time may diminish the pain :

The flower, and the fhrub, and the tree, Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain, In time may have comfort for me.

The sweets of a dew-fprinkled rofe,

The found of a murmuring stream,
The peace which from folitude flows,
Henceforth fhall be Corydon's theme.
High transports are fhewn to the fight,
But we are not to find them our own;
Fate never bestow'd fuch delight,
As I with my Phyllis had known.

ye

woods, fpread your branches apace; To your deepest recesses I fly;

I would hide with the beafts of the chace;

I would vanish from every eye. Yet my reed fhall refound through the grove With the fame fad complaint it begun; How the fmil'd, and I could not but love;

Was faithlefs, and I am undone !

LEVITIES;

O R

PIECES OF HUMOUR,

FLIRT and PHIL;

A Decifion for the LADIES.

A Wit, by learning well refin'd,

A beau, but of the rural kind,

To Sylvia made pretences;

They both profefs'd an equal love;

Yet hop'd, by different means to move
Her judgment, or her fenfes.

Young sprightly Flirt, of blooming mien,
Watch'd the best minutes to be feen;
Went-when his glass advis'd him :
While meagre Phil of books enquir'd;
A wight, for wit and parts admir'd;
And witty ladies priz'd him.
Silvia had wit, had spirits too;
To hear the one, the other view,

Sufpended held the scales:

Her wit, her youth too, claim'd its share,

Let none the preference declare,

But turn up-heads or tails.

STANZAS to the Memory of an agreeable I
buried in Marriage to a Perfon undeferving

"TWAS always held, and ever will,
By fage mankind, difcreeter,

T'anticipate a leffer ill,

Than undergo a greater.

When mortals dread diseases, pain,
And languishing conditions;
Who don't the leffer ills fuftain
Of phyfic and physicians?

Rather than lofe his whole eftate,
He that but little wife is,

Full gladly pays four parts in eight
To taxes and excifes.

Our merchants Spain has near undone
For loft fhips not requiting:
This bears our noble king, to shun
The lofs of blood-in fighting!

With numerous ills, in fingle life,
The bachelor's attended:
Such to avoid, he takes a wife-
And much the cafe is mended!

Poor Gratia in her twentieth year,
Fore-feeing future woe,

Chofe to attend a monkey here,

Before an ape below.

COLE

COLE MIR A.

A Culinary ECLOGUE.

"Nec tantum Veneris, quantum ftudiofa culinæ."

N

TIGHT'S fable clouds had half the globe o'erfpread, And filence reign'd, and folks were gone to bed: When love, which gentle fleep can ne'er inspire, Had feated Damon by the kitchen fire.

Penfive he lay, extended on the ground;
The little lares kept their vigils round;
The fawning cats compaffionate his cafe,
And purr around, and gently lick his face:

To all his plaints the fleeping curs reply,
And with hoarfe fnorings imitate a figh.
Such gloomy fcenes with lovers' minds agree,
And folitude to them is beft fociety.

Could I (he cry'd) exprefs, how bright a grace
Adorns thy morning hands, and well-wash'd face;
Thou wouldft, Colemira, grant what I implore,
And yield me love, or wafh thy face no more.
Ah! who can fee, and feeing not admire,
Whene'er the fets the pot upon the fire!
Her hands out-fhine the fire, and redder things;
Her eyes are blacker than the pots fhe brings.

But fure no chamber-damfel can compare, When in meridian luftre fhines my fair,

When warm'd with dinner's toil, in pearly rills,
Adown her goodly cheek the sweat distills.

Oh! how I long, how ardently defire,
To view those rofy fingers strike the lyre!
For late, when bees to change their climes began,
How did I fee them thrum the frying-pan!

With her! I fhould not envy George his queen,
Though fhe in royal grandeur deck'd be feen:
Whilft rags, just fever'd from my fair-one's gown,
In ruffet pomp and greafy pride hang down.

Ah! now it does my drooping heart rejoice,
When in the hall I hear thy mellow voice!
How would that voice exceed the village bell ;
Would that but fing, "I like thee paffing well!"

When from the heart fhe bade the pointers go,
How foft! how eafy did her accents flow!
"Get out, fhe cry'd, when strangers come to fup,
"One ne'er can raise thofe fnoring devils up."

Then, full of wrath, the kick'd each lazy brute, Alas! I envy'd even that falute:

'Twas fure misplac'd,---Shock faid, or fecm'd to say, He had as lief, I had the kick, as they.

If she the mystic bellows take in hand,
Who like the fair can that machine command ?

O may'st thou ne'er by Eolus be feen,
For he wou'd fure demand thee for his queen.

But