The fearless lover wants no beam of light,
The robber knows him, nor obftructs his
way,
Sacred he wanders through the pathless night,
Belongs to Venus, and can never stray.

I fcorn the chilling wind, and beating rain,
Nor heed cold watchings on the dewy ground,
If all the hardships I for love fuftain,

With love's victorious joys at last be crown'd:
With fudden ftep let none our bliss surprize,
Or check the freedom of fecure delight-
Rafh man beware, and fhut thy curious eyes,
Left angry Venus fnatch their guilty fight.

But fhould'st thou fee, th' important fecret hide,
Though question'd by the powers of earth and heaven,
The prating tongue shall love's revenge abide,
Still fue for grace, and never be forgiven.

A wizard-dame, the lover's anticnt friend,
With magic charm has deaft thy husband's ear,
At her command I faw the ftars defcend,
And winged lightnings stop in mid career.

I faw her ftamp, and cleave the folid ground,
While ghaftly spectres round us wildly roam;
I faw them hearken to her potent found,

Till, fcar'd at day, they fought their dreary home.
At her command the vigorous fummer pines,
And wintery clouds obfcure the hopeful year;
At her strong bidding, gloomy winter fhines,
And vernal rofes on the fnows appear.

She

She gave thefe charms, which I on thee bestow,
They dim the eye, and dull the jealous mind,
For me they make a husband nothing know,
For me, and only me, they make him blind :
But what did most this faithful heart furprize,
She boasted that her fkill could fet it free;
This faithful heart the boafted freedom flies;
How could it venture to abandon thee?

He adjures Delia to pity him, by their Friendship with Calia, who was lately dead.

HOUSANDS would feek the lafting peace of death,

THOUS

And in that harbour fhun the ftorm of care, Officious hope ftill holds the fleeting breath,

She tells them ftill,-To-morrow will be fair.

She tells me, Delia, I fhall thee obtain,

But can I liften to her fyren fong,

Who feven flow months have dragg'd my painful chain,

So long thy lover, and defpis'd fo long?

By all the joys thy dearest Cælia gave,
Let not her once-lov'd friend unpitied burn;
So may her ashes find a peaceful grave,
And fleep uninjur'd in their facred urn:

To her I first avow'd my timorous flame,
She nurs'd my hopes, and taught me how to sue,
She ftill would pity what the wife might blame,
And feel for weaknefs which the never knew:

Ah, do not grieve the dear lamented shade,
That hovering round us all my fufferings hears,
She is my faint, to her my prayers are made,
With oft repeated gifts of flowers and tears :
To her fad tomb at midnight I retire,
And lonely fitting by the filent stone,
I tell it all the griefs my wrongs inspire,
The marble image feems to hear my moan:

Thy friend's pale ghoft fhall vex thy fleepless bed,
And ftand before thee all in virgin white;
That ruthlefs bofom will disturb the dead,
And call forth pity from eternal night:
Ceafe, cruel man, the mournful theme forbear,
Though much thou fuffer, to thyself complain :
Ah, to recal the fad remembrance spare,
One tear from her, is more than all thy pain.

On Delia's being in the Country, where he supposes she stays to see the Harvest.

OW Delia breathes in woods the fragrant air,

Null are the hearts that fill in town remain,

Venus herself attends on Delia there,

And Cupid sports amid the fylvan train.

Oh, with what joy, my Delia to behold,

I'd prefs the spade, or wield the weighty prong,

Guide the flow plough-fhare through the stubborn mold, And patient goad the loitering ox along:

The

!

The fcorching heats I'd careleffly despise,
Nor heed the blifters on my tender hand;
The great Apollo wore the fame disguise,
Like me fubdued to love's fupreme command.
No healing herbs could footh their master's pain,
The art of phyfic loft, and useless lay,

To Peneus' ftream, and Tempe's fhady plain,
He drove his herds beneath the noon-tide ray:
Oft with a bleating lamb in either arm,
His blufhing Sifter faw him pace along;
Oft would his voice the filent valley charm,
Till lowing oxen broke the tender fong.
Where are his triumphs? where his warlike toil?
Where by his darts the crefted Python flain?
Where are his Delphi? his delightful isle?
The God himself is grown a cottage-swain,

O, Ceres! in your golden fields no more,
With Harveft's chearful pomp, my fair detain,—
Think what for loft Proferpina you bore,
And in a mother's anguish feel my pain.

Our wifer fathers left their fields unfown,
Their food was acorns, love their fole employ,
They met, they lik'd, they staid but till alone,
And in each valley fnatch'd the honest joy :
No wakeful guard, no doors to stop defire,
Thrice happy times!-But, oh! I fondly rave,
Lead me to Delia, all her eyes inspire

I'll do. I'll plough, or dig as Delia's flave.

ELE GY VIII.

He defpairs that he fhall ever poffefs Delia.

AH, what avails thy lover's pious care?

His lavish incenfe clouds the fky in vain,
Nor wealth nor greatness was his idle prayer,
For thee alone he pray'd, thee hop'd to gain

With thee I hop'd to waste the pleafing day,
Till in thy arms an age of joy was past,
Then, old with love, infenfibly decay,
And on thy bofom gently breathe my laft.

I fcorn the Lydian river's golden wave,
And all the vulgar charms of human life,
I only afk to live my Delia's flave,

And, when I long have ferv'd her, call her wife :

I only afk, of her I love poffeft,

To fink, o'ercome with blifs, in fafe repose,
To ftrain her yielding beauties to my breast,
And kifs her wearied eye-lids till they close.

Attend, O Juno! with thy fober ear,
Attend, gay Venus, parent of defire;
This one fond with, if you refufe to hear,
Oh, let me with this figh of love expire.

ELEGY