M The TOPER'S Petition. AY the gods be propitious, and fo much my friends, To fupply me with bumpers, while vigour they 'Tis no matter to me what they fate for my end. (lend; With mirth unconfin'd, let my moments slide on; "Tis in vain to repine, or our destiny shun: All our life's but a puff that will quickly be gone. Then to day let our hopes drive away dull despair, And our bumpers be crown'd with fome beautiful fair: Let to morrow alone, 'tis not worthy our care. Tho' long it can't last, For the future, and past, Is spent with remorfe and defpair: With fuch a full glass, Let that of life pass, A ftorm, the' a bubble, There's no blifs like forgetting our care. The A The Bafhful LoVERS. GENTLE warmth comes o'er my heart, I figh, and the trembles, Yet her eyes fhew some joy, H GRAVITY Infipid. ow infipid were life without those delights In which jolly brisk youths fpend their days and their nights ? Unhappy grave wretches, who live by falfe meafure, And for empty vain fhadows refufe real pleasure: SINCE The NOVELIST. INCE I have long lov'd you in vain, Give me, at leaft, but leave to complain Tho' I beheld, in your wand'ring eyes, Yet I refolv'd against being wife, And lov'd you in fpight of your changing. The ANSWER. HY fhou'd you blame what heav'n has made, W" "Tis not the crime of the faithless maid, But nature's inclination. 'Tis not because I love you lefs, Or think you not a true one; But, if the truth I must confefs, I always lov'd a new one. VOL. IV. The W The Enchanting Bow ER. HEN the bright god of day Drove to weftward each ray, And the ev'ning was charming and clear;, Nimbly skip'd o'er the plain, And our fhadows like giants appear: In a jeflamine bower, (When the bean was in flower, And Zephyrs breath'd odours around) With her fong, and fpinet, And the charm'd all the grove with her found. Rofy bowers, the fung, Whilft the harmony rung, And the birds they all flutt'ring arrive; Th' induftrious bees, From the flowers and trees, Gently hum with their sweets to their hive. Now the gay god of love, As he flew o'er the grove, O ye O ́ye mortals, beware, How ye venture too near, Love doubly is armed to wound : Your fate you can't shun, For you're furely undone, I The ALTERNATIVE. F Phyllis denies me relief, If fhe's angry, I'll feek it in wine; The sparkling champaign fhall remove And, by drinking, what can I do more? Wou'd Phyllis but pity my pain, Or my am'rous vows wou'd approve, The juice of the grape I'd disdain, And be drunk with nothing but love. |