Then, while the fun darts kind his beams,

A plenteous harvest wifely make; Meet with a due return my flames;

A heart both justly give and take:
So fhall you never vainly grieve,

For fear your beauties fhou'd decline;
But to the world a pattern leave,
And honour'd still, to ages fhine.

BE

EAUTY and innocence, distrest, With pity first infpir'd my breaft; And pity kindled into love.

No cares, no courtship did I fpare, At once to aid and win the fair; Yet ftill, alas, in vain I ftrovekal ove

The giddy nymph my aid refus'd; My youth defpis'd; my love abus'd; Nor wou'd her wanton heart be won:

While to a homeless fhepherd's arms, The ripening harveft of her charms She yields, unfought; and is undone.

Pity began, and ends my flame; Nor Sylvia, nor my fate I blame;" These fighs alone, compaffion vents.

Thus the fuffering patriot grieves; Thus the people's fcorn receives; And o'er the ruin'd land laments.

1

...t.

Epi

Epithalamium.

APPY youth, thy fears difmifs, And prepare, prepare to prove All the extreams of coming blifs,

All the foft extreams of love: Youth and beauty now invite you To diffolve in melting pleasure; Youth and beauty shall delight you,

With all their joys, with all their treasure: Indulge your raptures, and your hours poffefs In ecstacies of smiling love's excefs!

Wanton Zephyrs love inspire,

While they fan the whispering trees;

Prefent Cupid lights thy fire,

Prefent beauty gives thee cafe:

Happy pair indulge the bleffing,

Damp no joy with needlefs rigour

While fecurely you're careffing,

Raife the blifs with mutual vigours Livię (3 Your murmurs fofter than the turtles prove, Than Conches more clofe your kiffes when you love; And when around your curling arms you twine, More strict embraces give, than ivy, or the vine.

A Defiance to CUPID.

UPID, forbear thy childish arts;
I cannot, will not love:

Thy quiver emptied of its darts

On me, wou'd harmless prove.

In vain, fond boy, Miranda's eyes
You point with beamy fire;
Strephon each killing glance defies,
And looks without defire.

Thy Cloe's dimpled cheeks adorn
With gay, bewitching fmiles:
I laugh at all her wanton scorn;
And triumph o'er her wiles.

The fnowy neck, the flender waift,
The gently-bending brow,

The ruby lip, with moisture grac'd,

I view without a vow.

Shou'd thy bright mother, beauty's queen,
Court me with open arms;
Adonis-like, wou'd I be feen

To flight her proffer'd charms.

This bold defiance Strephon fends:""
...Hence, baffled boy, remove.

We are not foes; we are not friends:
I cannot, will not love.

TH

To CELIA's Spinet.

HOU foft machine that doft her hand obey,
Tell her my grief in thy harmonious lay.

To fhun my moan, to thee fhe'll fly,

To her touch be fure reply;

And, if the removes it, die.

Know thy blifs, with rapture shake,
Tremble o'er all thy numerous make;
Speak in melting founds my tears,
Speak my joys, my hopes, my fears.
Thus force her, when from me fhe'd fly,
By her own hand, like me, to die.

Song

L

Song for the KING's Birth-Day.
Twenty-eighth of May, 1716.

AY thy flow'ry garlands by,
Ever blooming gentle May!

Other honours now are nigh;
Other honours see we pay.
Lay thy flowry, &c.

Majefty and great renown
Wait thy beamy brow to crown,
Parent of our hero, thou

GEORGE on Britain didft bestow.
Thee the trumpet, thee the drum,
With the plumy helm become;
Thee the spear and shining field,
With every trophy of the warlike field.

Call thy better blessings forth,

For the honour of his birth:

Still the voice of loud commotion,
Bid complaining murmur cease,

Lay the billows of the ocean;
And compose the land in peace.
Call thy better, &c.

Queen of odours, fragrant May,
For this boon, this happy day,

VOL. III.

C

Fanus,