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A S O N G.

FAL

I.

AIR, fweet and young, receive a prize Referv'd for your victorious eyes : From crouds, whom at your feet you see, O pity, and diftinguish me! As I from thousand beauties more Distinguish you, and only you adore,

II.

Your face for conqueft was design'd,
Your every motion charms my mind;
Angels, when
you your filence break,
Forget their hymns, to hear you speak;

But when at once they hear and view,

Are loth to mount, and long to stay with you,

III.

No graces can your form improve,
But all are loft, unless you love;
While that sweet paffion you difdain,
Your veil and beauty are in vain :
In pity then prevént my fate,

For after dying all reprieve's too late,

A S O N G.

HIG

IGH ftate and honors to others impart,
But give me your heart:

That treasure, that treasure alone,

I beg for my own.

So gentle a love, fo fervent a fire,
My foul does inspire ;

That treasure, that treasure alone,

I beg for my own.

Your love let me crave;

Give me in poffeffing

So matchlefs a bleffing;

That empire is all I would have.

Love's my petition,

All my ambition;
If e'er you discover

So faithful a lover,
So real a flame,

I'll die, I'll die,

So give up my game.

RONDELA Y.

CH

I.

HLOE found Amyntas lying,
All in tears upon the plain;

Sighing to himself, and crying,
Wretched I, to love in vain!
Kifs me, dear, before my dying;

Kifs me once, and ease

II.

my pain!

Sighing to himfelf, and crying,
Wretched I, to love in vain!

Ever fcorning and denying

To reward

your faithful fwain:

Kiss me, dear, before my dying;

Kifs me once, and cafe my pain!

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Ever fcorning, and denying

To reward your faithful fwain. Chloe, laughing at his crying,

Told him, that he lov'd in vain :

Kifs me, dear, before my dying;
Kifs me once, and eafe my pain!

IV.

Chloe, laughing at his crying,

Told him, that he lov'd in vain : But repenting, and complying, When he kiss'd, fhe kiss'd again :

Kifs'd him up before his dying;

Kifs'd him

up, and eas'd his pain.

<X*X*X*X*

G

A S
SONG.

Ì.

O tell Amynta, gentle fwain,

I would not die, nor dare complain : Thy tuneful voice with numbers join, Thy words will more prevail than mine. To fouls opprefs'd, and dumb with grief, The gods ordain this kind relief; That mufic should in found's convey, What dying lovers dare not fay.

II.

A figh or tear, perhaps, fhe'll give,
But love on pity cannot live.

Tell her that hearts for hearts were made;

And love with love is only paid.

Tell her my pains fo faft increase,

That foon they will be past redress ;
But ah! the wretch, that fpeechless lies,
Attends but death to close his eyes.

*&*&*&*&*&*&*&*&.

A

SONG

TO A

******

Fair Young LADY, going out of the Town in the Spring.

I.

ASK not the caufe, why fullen Spring

So long delays her flowers to bear;

Why warbling birds forget to fing,

And winter storms invert the

year:

Chloris is gone, and fate provides

To make it Spring, where the refides.

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