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HE

ELE GY IX.

He has loft Delia.

E who could first two gentle hearts unbind,
And rob a lover of his weeping fair,
Hard was the man, but harder, in my mind,
The lover ftill who dy'd not of despair:

With mean disguise let others nature hide,
And mimic virtue with the paint of art,
I fcorn the cheat of reason's foolish pride,
And boaft the graceful weakness of my heart.
The more I think, the more I feel my pain,
And learn the more each heavenly charm to prize;
While fools, too light for passion, safe remain,
And dull fenfation keeps the stupid wise.

Sad is my day, and fad my lingering night,
When, wrapt in filent grief, I weep alone,
Delia is loft, and all my paft delight

Is now the fource of unavailing moan.

Where is the wit that heighten'd beauty's charms ?
Where is the face that fed my longing eyes?
Where is the shape that might have bleft my arms?
Where are those hopes relentless Fate denies ?

When spent with endless grief I die at last,
Delia may come, and fee my poor remains,—
Oh, Delia! after fuch an abfence past,
Canft thou still love, and not forget my pains?

Wilt thou in tears thy lover's corfe attend,
With eyes averted light the folemn pyre,
Till all around the doleful flames afcend,
Then, flowly finking, by degrees expire?
To footh the hovering foul, be thine the care,
With plaintive cries to lead the mournful band,
In fable weeds the golden vafe to bear,

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And cull my ashes with thy trembling hand!

Panchaia's odours be their coftly feast,
And all the pride of Afia's fragrant year;
Give them the treasures of the farthest East,
And, what is still more precious, give thy tear.
Dying for thee, there is in death a pride,
Let all the world thy hapless lover know,
No filent urn the noble paffion hide,

But deeply graven thus my fufferings show:

Here lies a youth, borne down with love and care,
He could not long his Delia's lofs abide,

Joy left his bofom with the parting fair,
And when he durft no longer hope, he dy'd.

TH

ELE GY X.

On Delia's Birth-Day.

HIS day, which faw my Delia's beauty rife,
Shall more than all our facred days be bleft,
world, enamour'd of her lovely eyes,

ow as good and gentle as her breaft.

By

By all our guarded fighs, and hid defires,
Oh, may our guiltless love be ftill the fame!
I burn, and glory in the pleasing fires,
If Delia's bofom fhare the mutual flame.

Thou happy genius of her natal hour,
Accept her incense, if her thoughts be kind;
But let her court in vain thy angry power,
If all our vows are blotted from her mind.
And thou, O Venus, hear my righteous prayer,
Or bind the shepherdess, or loose the swain,
Yet rather guard them both with equal care,
And let them die together in thy chain :
What I demand, perhaps her heart defires,
But virgin fears her nicer tongue restrain;
The fecret thought, which blushing love infpires,
The conscious eye can full as well explain.

ELE GY XI.

Againft Lovers going to War, in which he philofophically prefers Love and Delia to the more ferious Vanities of the World.

THE

HE man who sharpen'd firft the warlike steel, How fell and deadly was his iron heart, gave the wound encountering nations feel, And death grew stronger by his fatal art:

He

Yet

Yet not from steel, debate and battle rofe,
'Tis gold o'erturns the even scale of life,
Nature is free to all, and none were foes,
Till partial luxury began the ftrife.

Let fpoil and victory adorn the bold,
While I inglorious neither hope nor fear,
Perish the thirst of honour, thirst of gold,
Ere for my abfence Delia lofe a tear:
Why should the lover quit his pleafing home,
In fearch of danger on fome foreign ground;
Far from his weeping fair ungrateful roam,
And risk in every stroke a double wound?

Ah, better far, beneath the spreading shade,
With chearful friends to drain the sprightly bowl,
To fing the beauties of my darling maid,
And on the sweet idea feast my foul:

Then full of love to all her charms retire,
And fold her blushing to my eager breast,
Till, quite o'ercome with softness, with defire,
Like me the pants, fhe faints, and finks to reft.

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N

fecond love fhall e'er my heart furprize,

This folemn league did firft our paffion bind': Thou, only thou, canft please thy lover's eyes, Thy voice alone can footh his troubled mind.

Oh,

Oh, that thy charms were only fair to me,
Displease all others, and fecure my rest,
No need of envy,-let me happy be,
I little care that others know me bleft.

With thee in gloomy deferts let me dwell,
Where never human footstep mark'd the ground;
Thou, light of life, all darkness canft expel,
And feem a world with folitude around.
I say too much—my heedlefs words restore,
My tongue undoes me in this loving hour;
Thou know'ft thy ftrength, and thence infulting more,
Will make me feel the weight of all thy power:

Whate'er I feel, thy flave I will remain,
Nor fly the burthen I am form'd to bear,
In chains I'll fit me down at Venus' fane,
She knows my wrongs, and will regard my prayer.

ELE GY XIII.

He imagines himself married to Delia, and that content with each other, they are retired into the Country.

L

ET others boaft their heaps of shining gold,

And view their fields, with waving plenty crown'd, Whom neighbouring foes in conftant terror hold, And trumpets break their flumbers, never found:

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