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thou say I am forsworn,
That fond impossibility.
A tedious twelve-hours' space!
And rob thee of a new embrace,
Ah! braid no more that shining hair ;
From the Sun-rise; a Poem. THOU youthful goddess of the morn,
Whose blush they in the east adore, Daughter of Phæbus, who before Thy all-enlightening sire art bord! Haste, and restore the day to me, That my love's beauteous object I may see.
Too much of time the night devours,
The cock's shrill voice calls thee again, Then quickly mount thy golden wain, Drawn by the softly-sliding hours, And make apparent to all eyes With what enamel thou dost paint the skies. Ah, now I see the sweetest dawn!
Tbrice welcome to my longing sight!
Hail, divine beauty, heavenly light;
Of sad and melancholy dreams,
Sweetly the listening ear enthral,
With holy reverence inspir'd,
When brst the day renews its light,
The earth, at so divine à sight,
Having his humble homage paid,
And to some cool retired shade
Buzzing, to drink the morning's tears,
And from the early lily bears
&c. &c. &c.
# The remainder of this poem would now be thought forced and unnatural,
SIR ROBERT HOWARD.
To the inconstant Cynthia. IN thy fair breast, and once fair soul,
I thought my vows were writ alone :
That I no more could read my own.
Our tears as well must be unkind;
And I that did such falseness find. Thus we must unconcern'd remain In our divided joys and pain. Yet we may love, but on this different score, You what I am, I what you were before.
THE RESOLUTION. No, Cynthia, never think I can
Love a divided heart and mind; Your sunshine love to every man,
Appears alike as great as kind. None but the duller Persians kneel,
And the bright god of beams implore ; Whilst others equal influence feel,
That never did the god adore. Though I resolve to love no more,
Since I did once, I will advise : The love of conquests now give o'er; Disquiets wait on victories.