Oh! the foft transporting pleasure !
When we yield our virgin treasure!
When we meet the joyous lover,
And an equal flame difcover;
Nothing now to love denying,
Both with guiltless rapture dying!
Oh! the foft tranfporting bliss!
What is life, or fame, to this!
I rave, I rave, unhappy maid!
That name my folly does upbraid,
To shame, remorfe, and death betray'd!
What power, what god can send relief!
Sicilian virgins fhun the arts
Whence my misfortunes rise,
With ease my Phân conquers hearts,
With ease neglects the prize.
I dream, or in fome rival's arms,
Forgetful of my rifled charms,
I behold the perjur'd boy!
Anguish waste,
Lightning blaft,
Heaven forfake her,
Hell o'ertake her,
E'er fhe tastes the rising joy!
No-let her triumph, let her prize
The faithless wretch, whom I defpife:
By his ingratitude fet free,
I'll reap the sweet of liberty.
Mighty hero, cou'd you leave me?
Did my charmer hope to grieve me?
Thus be all thy wishes blafted,
For no longer I adore thee;
Had thy love one moment lafted,
Haply I had chang'd before thee.
Wander, Phäon, fo will I,
Roving, ranging,
Ever changing,
Gay and airy,
Form'd to vary,
I to pain you
Will disdain you,
And to nobler conquests fly.
Refentment, pride, and glowing, shame,
Once guardians of my fpotlefs fame,
By conquering love tho' banish'd hence,
Again vouchsafe me your defence;
Affert an empire late your own,
And shake the tyrant on his throne:
Support me! aid me! for I feel
My fainting refolution reèl:
Doubt, thou certain ftate of forrow,
We lofe to day to wait to-morrow.
He may return, my Phaon may
I cheat myself, why does he Stay?
Shall Sappho, like a helpless maid,
Pine to death, of death afraid?
I've try'd all female arts in vain,
Diffembled fcorn, and false disdain;
For, oh! with real grief oppreft,
I burn, and tempests shake my breast.
Oh! what torments wound my heart!
Gentle death, in pity take me,
And perform thy grateful duty;
Since my Phäon does forfake me,
To thy arms I yield my beauty,
Kinder thine than Cupid's dart.
F Corinna wou'd but hear,
What impatient love cou'd fay,
She wou'd banish idle fear,.
And with ease his laws obey;
She wou'd foon approve the fong,
Like the voice, and bless the tongue.
Since to filence I'm confin'd,
Sighs and ogles must declare
What torments my thoughtful mind,
How I wish, and how despair;
All the motions of my heart,
Sighs and ogles must impart.
The fhort-liv'd Pleafure.
ICKLE blifs! fantaftick treafure!
Love, how foon thy joys are paft!
Since we foon muft lofe the pleasure,
Oh, 'twere better ne'er to taste!
Gods! how fweet wou'd be poffeffing,
Did not time its charms destroy;
Or cou'd lovers with the bleffing
Lofe the thoughts of Cupid's joy.
Cruel thoughts, that pain, yet please me,
Ah no more my reft destroy;
Shew me ftill, if you wou'd eafe me,
Love's deceits, but not its joy.
Gods, what kind yet cruel powers
Force my will, to rack my mind!
Ah! too long we wait for flowers,
Too, too foon to fade defign'd.
COME, all ye youths, whose hearts e'er bled
By cruel beauty's pride,
Bring each a garland on his head,
Let none his forrows hide:
But hand in hand around me move, }
Singing the faddeft tales of love;
And fee, when your complaints ye join,
If all your wrongs can equal mine..
The happiest mortal once was I,
My heart no forrows knew ;
Pity the pain with which I die,
But ask not whence it grew.
Yet if a tempting fair you find,
That's very lovely, very kind;
Tho' bright as heaven, whose stamp she bears,
Think of my fate, and fhun her fnares.
F fhe be not kind as fair,
But peevish and unhandy,
Leave her; fhe's only worth the care
Of fome fpruce jack-a-dandy.
I wou'd not have thee fuch an ass,
Hadft thou ne'er fo much leifure,
To figh and whine for fuch a lafs
Whofe pride's above her pleasure.
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