So I, my leifure to employ,
In each variety of joy,

From nymph to nymph do roam,
Perhaps fee fifty in a day;

They are but vifits which I pay,
For Cloe's ftill my home.

B

To a Young LADY Weeping.

EHOLD the skilful artist's hand,
Controuls our paffions at command,
And with a fingle note impart,
Or pain or pleasure to the heart:

Or, what e'en contradiction feems, Blend and unite these two extreams; And by a fadly pleasing strain,

Give us at once both joy and pain.

Thus, while with tears o'erflow thine eyes, While that dear bofom heaves with fighs, Between two diffrent passions tost,

I know not which controuls me most.

Who fees that face in grief appear,
Nor drops a fympathetick tear?
Yet ftill our joys just ballance keep,
Bless'd in thy presence who can weep?

An

G

An HYMN to Sleep.

OD of fleep, for whom I languish,
God of golden dreams and peace,
Gently footh a lover's anguish,
Help to make his tortures cease.

Spread thy facred pinions o'er me,
Lull the bufy foul to reft;
Then bring her I love before me,
She that's painted in my breast.

If kind as fair, my prize I'll keep,
And, great as Jove, the world for fake;
Let me thus blefs'd for ever fleep,

And lie, and dream, and never wake.

But should the fair, divinely bright, Reject my vows, and fcorn my flame, Fly, fly, kind fleep, restore the light, Let Strephon fee 'twas all a dream.

L

LOVE preferr'd to GLORY.

OVE, fpread all thy fweet treasures,
Thy own triumphs to crown;

Youth, mirth, and smiling pleasures
Are flaves to thy glad throne..

Glory is but a bubble,

Loft ev'n while we purfue, "Tis all tumult and trouble, Flatt'ring only to view.

But once beauty poffeffing,
Joy rolls circling on joy:
Tranfports paft all expreffing,
Which still tafted ne'er cloy.

Give, Love, give me to languish,
Thy dear fhafts I invite;
When moft feeling thy anguish,.
Then moft feel we delight..

The

G

The EARL'S Defeat.

To the Tune of Chevy Chace.

OD profper long from being broke,
The luck of Eden-Hall;

A doleful drinking-bout I fing,
There lately did befal.

To chase the spleen with cup and can,
Duke Philip took his way;
Babes yet unborn fhall never fee
The like of fuch a day.

The ftout, and ever-thirsty duke
A vow to god did make,
His pleasure within Cumberland,
Three live-long nights to take.

Sir Musgrave too of Martin-dale,
A true and worthy knight,
Eftfoon with him a bargain made,
In drinking to delight.

* A pint bumper at Sir Chriftopher Musgrave's.

The