I

SIGH'D, and own'd my love;

Nor did the fair my paffion disapprove!

A foft engaging air,

Not often apt to cause despair,

Declar'd fhe gave attention to my prayer;

She feem'd to pity my distress,

And I expected nothing lefs

Than what her every look did then confefs.

But, oh! her change destroys

The charming prospect of my promis'd joys;
She's robb'd, fhe's robb'd of every grace,
That argu'd pity in her face,

And cold forbidding frowns fupply their place;
But while fhe ftrives to chill defire,

Her brighter eyes fuch warmth infpire,

She checks the flame, but cannot quench the fire.

Α

NCIENT Phillis has young graces,
"Tis a strange thing, but a true one;
Shall I tell you how?

She herself makes her own faces,

And each morning wears a new one;
Where's the wonder now?

I WAS

WAS foretold, your rebel fex

I Nor love nor pity knew;

And with what fcorn you use to vex
Poor hearts that humbly fue;
Yet I believ'd, to crown our pain,
Cou'd we the fortrefs win,

The happy lover fure fhou'd gain
A paradife within:

I thought love's plagues like dragons fate,
Only to fright us at the gate.

But I did enter, and enjoy

What happy lovers prove;

For I cou'd kifs, and fport, and toy,
And tafte thofe fweets of love;
Which had they but a lasting state,
Or if in Celia's breaft

The force of love might not abate,
Jove were too mean a guest....
But now her breach of faith far more
Afflicts, than did her scorn before.

Hard fate! to have been once poffeft,
As victor, of a heart,

Atchiev'd with labour and unrest,

And thence forc'd to depart.

If the ftout foe will not refign
When I besiege a town,

I lose but what was never mine;
But he that is caft down

From enjoy'd beauty, feels a woe
Only depofed kings can know.

R

ICHEST gift of lavish nature,
Matchlefs darling of my heart,

"Ah! too dear, too charming creature,
You on earth a heaven impart :
Rapt in pleasures paft expreffing,
I with blifs almost expire;
Cou'd we still be thus poffeffing,
Gods, who wou'd your ftate defire!

Kindling glances, quick’ning kisses,
That like time fo foon are past;
Crowding joys, too eager bliffes,
Still, renewing, may you last:
Nor, by a fantastick fashion,
Being lawful please the less;
But may I indulge my paffion,
Bleft in none but her I blefs.

TELL

T

ELL me no more of flames in love,
That common dull pretence

Fools in romances ufe, to move
Soft hearts of little fenfe:
No, Strephon, I'm not such a slave
Love's banish'd power to own;
Since int'reft and convenience have
So long ufurp'd his throne.

No burning hope, or cold defpair,
Dull groves, or purling streams,
Sighing, and talking to the air,
In love's fantaftick dreams,
Can move my pity or my hate;
But fatyrift I'll prove,

And all ridiculous create

That shall pretend to love.

Love was a monarch once, 'tis true,
And god-like rul'd alone;

And though his fubjects were but few,
Their hearts were all his own:
But, fince the flaves revolted are,

And turn'd into a state,
Their int'reft is their only care,

And love grows out of date.

卷]

TELL

T

ELL me, Miranda, why fhou'd I
Lament and languish, pine and die?
While you, regardless of my pain,
Seem pleas'd to hear your flave complain.

Dame Eve, unskill'd in female arts,
And modern ways of tort'ring hearts,
No fooner faw her spark than lov'd,
Confefs'd her flame, and his approv'd.

Nature ftill breaks through all difguife, Glows in your cheeks, and rules your eyes: Love trembles in your hands and heart, Your panting breasts proclaim his dart.

No more, Miranda, then be coy, No longer keep us both from joy; No longer study to conceal

What all your actions thus reveal.

VOL. III.

Z

HOPELESS