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The bright bewitching Cloe's eyes,
The cares of lovers, their alarms,

The evening freak'd, like an apple, so fair,
The last time I came o'er the moor,

The mind of a woman can never be known,
The morn was fair, the sky ferene,

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The old coquet, whom time, in vain,

There was an a Swain full fair,

The tuneful lark, who from her nest,

They tell us that you, mighty pow'rs above,

Tho' ladies look gay, when of beauty they boast,

Tho' women, 'tis true, are but tender,

Three nymphs glad Damon's heart reviv'd,

Thyrfis, afflicted with love and despair,

Thyrfis, a youth of the inspired train,
To beauty born a willing flave,

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To the brook, and the willow,

Transform'd, in female shape, both old and lame,
Transporting Cloe, lovely fair,

Twas down in a meadow I chanc'd for to pass,

V

VAINLY now ye firive to charm me,
Venus, thy throne of beauty now refign,
W

WANTON Cloe, young and charming,
Were I to chufe the greatest bliss,

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What a fad fate is mine!

What can we poor females do,

What-e'er I do, where-e'er I go,

What gars the foulish mayde complain,

What man in his wits had not rather be poor,

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What tho' they call me country lafs,

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Whence comes it, neighbour Dick,

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When Cloe was by Damon feen,

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When Daphne first her shepherd saw,

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When deceitful lovers lay

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When

When first I faw the bright Aurelia's eyes,
When first you took my heart as a prize,
When from her beauty long I've ftrove,
When Mira's hands her needle thread,
When my Aurelia fmiles, fhe wounds me,
When paffion's ungovern'd by reafon or art,
When perfect beauty is by heav'n defign'd,
When Sylvia's charms were in their bloom,
When the bright god of day

When the rofe is in bud, and the violets blow,
Where, on the ftage, mock hero's rage,
While, from my looks, fair nymph, you guess
While on your blooming charms I gaze,
Whilft on Amintor's form I gaze,

Who has e'er been at Paris,

Why, Damon, why, why, why so pressing?
Why shoud I ask to whom she's kind,

Why shou'd men quarrel here, where all poffefs,
Why shou'd you blame what heav'n has made,

Wine rejecting,

With every lady in the land

Woman, thoughtless, giddy creature!

Wou'd you gain the tender creature,

YE beaus of pleasure,

Te commons and peers,

Y

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Te fair injur d nymphs, and ye beaus who deceive 'em, 65 Te knights of la Mancha, whofe powerful sword, 118 Te nymphs of Britain, to whofe eyes

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Te shepherds and nymphs, that adorn the gay plain, 82
Young Cupid I find

Young Philander woo'd me long,
Youth and age for Celia ftrove,

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A COL

A

COLLECTION

OF

SONGS.

F

To FORTUN E.

OR ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove
An unrelenting foe to love;

And when we meet a mutual heart,
Come in between, and bid us part.

Bid us figh on from day to day,
And wish, and wish the foul away,
"Till youth and genial years are flown,
And all the life of life is gone.

But bufy, bufy ftill art thou,
To bind the loveless joyless vow,
The heart from pleafure to delude,
And join the gentle to the rude..

VOL. IV.

B

For

For once, O Fortune! hear my pray'r, And I abfolve thy future care;

All other wishes I refign,

Make but the dear Amanda mine.

The DECLAIMER.

OMAN, thoughtlefs, giddy creature!
Laughing, idle, flutt'ring thing!

Most fantastic work of nature!

Still, like fancy, on the wing.

Slave to ev'ry changing paffion,
Loving, hating, in extream:

Fond of ev'ry foolish fashion;
And, at best, a pleasing dream.

Lovely trifle! dear illufion!

Conq'ring weakness! wish'd-for pain!

Man's chief glory and confufion,

Of all vanity most vain!

Thus, deriding beauty's pow'r,
Bevil call'd it all a cheat;

Eut in lefs than half an hour,
Kneel'd and whin'd at Calia's feet.

No

T

No Time like the Prefent.

ELL mc, Cloe, why has nature

Been fo partial to your form? Why in beauty deck'd each feature? Think you 'twas to aid your scorn?

No, mistaken charming woman,
Nature no fuch thrift requires;
She bestows her gifts in common,
And our lib'ral ufe defires.

Then no longer doat on pow'r,
But let love your thoughts employ;
Use the now propitious hour,
And improve the instant joy.

Time, tho' flowly, is approaching,
When that face we now adore,

'Stead of love will cause our loathing,

Spread with

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Then while weakly, vainly prating,
You your former conquefts boast,
Who'll regard you, while relating
What your fcorn and folly loft?

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