Nought but Love. I. HE fun was funk beneath the hill, THE The western clouds were lin'd with gold, The sky was clear, the winds were still, The flocks were pent within the fold; When from the filence of the grove, Poor Damon thus despair'd of love! II. Who feeks to pluck the fragrant rose III. I have no herds, no fleecy care, No fields that wave with golden grain, IV. How wretched is the faithful youth, Since women's hearts are bought and fold! They ask not vows of facred truth, Whene'er they figh, they figh for gold. Gold can the frowns of scorn remove, But I, alas! have nought but love. V. To buy the gems of India's coast, What wealth, what treasure can fuffice? Not all their shine can ever boast The living luftre of her eyes: For these the world too cheap would prove; But I, alas! have nought but love. VI. O Silvia! fince nor gems, nor ore, Can with your brighter gems compare, More feldom found, a soul sincere : Tell me, my Heart. WHE I. HEN Delia on the plain appears, Aw'd by a thousand tender fears, I would approach, but dare not move : Tell me, my heart, if this be love? II. Whene'er she speaks, my ravish'd ear III. If she some other swain commend, IV. When she is absent, I no more V. When arm'd with infolent difdain, CUPID mistaken. As I. S afternoon, one fummer's day, Cupid a-fhooting went that way, New ftrung his bow, and fill'd his quiver: With skill he chofe his fharpest dart, With all his might his bow he drew, Swift to his beauteous parent's heart, The too well-guided arrow flew. II. I faint! I die! the goddess cry'd: Like Nero, thou haft flain thy mother! I took you for your likeness Chloe. SYLVIA to ALEXIS. I. ALEXIS, how artlefs a lover! How bashful and filly you grow! II. When you pine and you whine out your paffion, III. In love, as in war, 'tis but reason IV. If I frown, 'tis my blushes to cover, Who is foil'd by a single attack. V. But when we by force are o'erpower'd, The ferious Lover. I, ELIEVE my fighs, my tears, my dear, Believe the heart you have won, Believe my vows to you fincere, Or, Jenny, I'm undone. You fay, I'm fickle, and apt to change, At ev'ry face that's new: Of all the girls I ever faw, II. My heart was like a lump of ice, Of all the girls I ever saw, I ne'er lov'd one like you. The grateful Admirers. ALSE tho' fhe be to me and love, FALSE I'll ne'er pursue revenge; For ftill the charmer I approve, Tho' I deplore her change. In hours of blifs we oft have met, They could not always last; But tho' the prefent I regret, I'm grateful for the past. |