When leaft I feem'd concern'd, I took

No Pleasure, nor no Reft;

And when I feign'd an angry Look

Alas! I lov'd you best.

Say but the fame to me, you'll find
How blefs'd will be our Fate.
Ah! to be grateful, to be kind,
Sure never is too late.

A Receipt to make an Oat-meal Pudding.

Oats decorticated take two Pound,

to drownd;

Of Raisons of the Sun, fton'd, Ounces eight;
Of Currants, cleanly pick'd, an equal Weight;
Of Sewet, finely flic'd, an Ounce, at least;
And fix Eggs, newly taken from the Neft:
Season this Mixture well, with Salt and Spice;
'Twill make a Pudding far exceeding Rice;
And you may fafely feed on it like Farmers,
For the Receipt is Learned Dr. Harmer's.

F

A Receipt to make a Sack-Poffet.

ROM far Barbadoes, on the Western Main, Fetch Sugar, half a Pound; fetch Sack, from Spain, A Pint; then fetch, from India's fertile Coast, Nutmeg, the Glory of the British Toast,

Upon a Giant's Angling.

IS Angle-rod made of a:fturdy Oak,

meer broke,

His Hook he baited with a Dragon's Tail,
And fate upon a Rock and Bobb'd for Whale.

Of all the Plagues a Lover bears,
Sure Rivals are the worft!
By Partners, in each other kind,
Afflictions easier grow;
In Love alone we hate to find
Companions of our Woe.

Sylvia, for all the Pangs you fee,
Are lab'ring in my Breast;
I beg not you would favour me,
Would you but flight the reft!
How great foe'er your Rigours are,
With them alone I'll cope;
I can endure my own Despair,
But not another's Hope.

To STREP HON.

rephon, at last th' unhappy Veil's remov'd; Sylvia, that Sylvia whom your Damon lov'd, Whom he preferr'd to all the World befide, And for whofe fake he had with Glory dy'd: Sylvia, in whom the Dotard thought to find Beauty and Wit, with Saint-like Virtue join'd, Does all the Treasure of her Charms expofe To Temple Wits, and Covent-Garden Beaux! Looks coy, and fhuns Mankind in open Light, While her Back-door admits them all at Night.

LYCON.

ECLOGUE.

Trephon and Damon's Flocks together fed, bred; Both fam'd for Wit, and fam'd for Beauty both; Both in the Luftre of their blooming Youth: No fullen Cares their tender Thoughts remove, No Paffions difcompofe their Souls, but Love. Once, and but once alone, as Story goes, Between the Youths a fierce Difpute arofe;, Not for the Merit of their tuneful Lays, (Tho' both deferv'd, yet both despis'd that Praise ;) But for a Cause of greater Moment far,

That merited a Lover's utmost Care.

Each Swain the Prize of Beauty ftrove to gain,
For the bright Shepherdefs that caus'd his Pain.
Lycon they chofe the Diff'rence to decide,
Lycon, for Prudence and fage Counsel try'd;
Who Love's mysterious Arts had ftudy'd long,
And taught, when Old, what he had practis'd Young.
For the Difpute alternate Verfe they chufe,
Alternate Verse delights the Rural Muse.

Strep. To Flavia, Love, thou juftly ow'ft the Prize, She owns thy Pow'r, nor does thy Laws reprove. Dam. Tho' Sylvia for herself Love's Fow'r defies,

What crowds of Vaffals has the made to Love? Strep. When Flavia comes attir'd for Rural Games, Each Curl, each Flow'r fhe wears, a Charm exprefs. Dam. Sylvia, without a Foreign Aid, enflames;

Charm'd with her Eyes, we never mind her Dress. Strep. Have you feen Flavia with her Flaxen Hair?

She feems an Image of the Queen of Love! Dam. Sylvia's dark Hair like Leda's Locks appear, And yet, like her, has Charms to conquer Jove. Strep. Flavia by Crowds of Lovers is admir'd; Happy that Youth who fhall the Fair enjoy! Dam. Sylvia negle&ts her Lovers, lives retir'd; Happy, that could her lonely Thoughts employ!:

Strep. Flavia, where- e'er fhe comes, the Swains fubdues,
And ev'ry Smile the gives conveys a Dart.
Dam. Sylvia the Swains with native Coldness views,
And yet what Shepherd can defend his Heart?
Strep. Flavia's bright Beauties in an inftant ftrike;
Gazers, before they think of it, adore.

Dam. Sylvia's foft Charms, as foon as seen, we like;
But ftill the more we think, we love the more.
Strep. Who is fo ftupid that has Flavia feen,

As not to view the Nymph with vast Delight? Dam. Who has seen Sylvia, and fo ftupid been, As to remember any other Sight?

Strep. What Thoughts has Flavia, when with Care the Her charming Graces in the Crystal Lakes? [views Dam. To fee hers Sylvia need no Mirrors use:

She fees them by the Conquefts that she makes. Strep. With what Affurance Flavia walks the Plains? She knows the Nymphs muft all their Lovers yield. Dam. Sylvia with Blushes wounds the gazing Swains, And while fhe ftrives to fly, fhe wins the Field. Strep. Flavia at first young Melibœus lov'd;

For me the did that charming Youth forfake.
Dam. Sylvia's relentless Heart was never mov'd;
Gods! that I might the first Impreffion make!
Strep. Shou'd Flavia hear that Sylvia vy'd with her,
What Indignation would the Charmer show?
Dam. Sylvia wou'd Flavia to herself prefer:
There we alone her Judgment difalow.

Strep. If Sylvia's Charms with Flavia's can compare,
Why is This crouded ftill, and That alone?
Dam. Because their ways of Life fo different are;
Flavia gives all Men Hopes, and Sylvia none.

Lycon. Shepherds enough; now ceafe your am'rous Or too much Heat may carry both too far: [War; I well attended the Difpute, and find

Both Nymphs have Charms, but each in diff'rent Kind. Flavia deferves more Pains than fhe will coft;

As easily got, were the not easily lost.

Sylvia is much more difficult to gain;

But, once poffefs'd, will well reward the Pain. We with them Flavia's all, when firft we burn ; But, once poffefs'd, wifh they would Sylvia's turn. And, by the diff'rent Charms in each expreft, One we thou'd fooneft love, the other best.

The DESPAIRING LOVER.

Iftracted with Care,

Dra

the Fairs

Since nothing cou'd move her,
Poor Damon, her Lover,

Refolves in Despair

No longer to languish,
Nor bear fo much Anguish;

But, mad with his Love,
To a Precipice goes;

Where, a Leap from above

Wou'd foon finish his Woes.

When in Rage he came there,

Beholding how fteep

The Sides did appear,

And the Bottom how deep;
His Torments projecting,
And fadly reflecting,
That a Lover forfaken

A new Love may get;

But a Neck, when once broken,

Can never be fet:

And, that he cou'd die

Whenever he wou'd;
But, that he cou'd live
But as long as he cou'd:
How grievous foever
The Torment might grow,