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The throbbing heart lies still,
Attends each mental power ;
Let's search this ample round;
A fick’ning heart conceals,
Invading sorrow steals.
The fugitive we trace! .
All yet agree, in one,
Of power, supremely wise,
And vain what we poffefs,
Is happiness confind,
The music of the mind.
Lady Mary W***, to Sir W*** Y ***
N EAR Colin, prevent my warm blushes, '
Since how can I speak without pain ? My eyes have oft told you their wishes,
Ah! can't you their meaning explain ?
And you too might cruelly blame:
Why should you expect it of me?
'Till you tell us what they should be. Then quickly why don't you discover ?
Did your breast feel tortures like mine, Eyes need not tell over and over
What I in my bosom confine.
Sir W ***** Y*****'s Answer,
N OOD madam, when ladies are willing,
U A man must needs look like a fool;
For one that is kind out of rule.
Not snatch like old maids in despair,
And not speak the matter fo plain ;
'Tis yours to affect a disdain. ; .
By all your sweet ogles I see ;
Indeed is too mellow for me.
Miss soper's Answer to a Lady, who invited her to retire into a monastic Life at St. Cross, near WINCHESTER,
TN vain, mistaken maid, you'd Ay
To defart and to shadé ;
And solitude commend.
Each swain will dig to find;
For dross is left behind.