Their own Ulyffes fcarce had wander'd more,
By winds and water caft on every shore:

When rais'd by Fate, fome former HANMER join'd
Each beauteous image of the boundless mind:
And bade, like thee, his Athens ever claim

A fond alliance with the Poet's name.

Sung by GUIDERUS and ARVIRAGUS Over FIDELE, supposed to be dead.

By the Same.

I.

O fair Fidele's graffy tomb

Soft maids and village hinds shall bring

Each op'ning fweet, of earliest bloom,
And rifle all the breathing Spring.

II. No

II.

No wailing ghost shall dare appear
To vex with fhrieks this quiet grove :
But shepherd lads affemble here,

And melting virgins own their love.
III.

No wither'd witch fhall here be seen,

No goblins lead their nightly crew;
The female fays fhall haunt the green,
And drefs thy grave with pearly dew!

IV.

The red-breaft oft at ev'ning hours
Shall kindly lend his little aid:

With hoary moss, and gather'd flow'rs,
To deck the ground where thou art laid,
V.

When howling winds, and beating rain,
In tempests shake the fylvan cell,

Or 'midft the chace on every plain,
The tender thought on thee shall dwell,

VI.

Each lonely scene shall thee restore,

For thee the tear be duly fhed:

Beloy'd, 'till life could charm no more,

And mourn'd, 'till Pity's felf be dead. VOL. IV.

F

ELE

Say, thou dear poffeffor of my breaft,

Where now's my boasted liberty and rest! Where the gay moments which I once have known, O where that heart I fondly thought my own! From place to place I folitary roam,

Abroad uneafy, nor content at home.

I fcorn the beauties common eyes adore,

The more I view them, feel thy worth the more;
Unmov'd I hear them speak, or see them fair,
And only think on thee-who art not there.

In

In vain would books their formal fuccour lend,
Nor wit, nor wifdom can relieve their friend
Wit can't deceive the pain I now endure,
And wifdom fhews the ill without the cure.
When from thy fight I waste the tedious day,
A thousand schemes I form, and things to say;
But when thy presence gives the time I seek,
My heart's fo full, I wifh, but cannot speak.

And could I fpeak with eloquence and ease,
'Till now not studious of the art to please,
Could I, at woman who fo oft exclaim,
Expofe (nor blufh) thy triumph and my shame,
Abjure those maxims I fo lately priz'd,
And court that fex I foolishly defpis'd,

Own thou haft foften'd my obdurate mind,
And thou reveng❜d the wrongs of womankind:
Loft were my words, and fruitless all my pain,
In vain to tell thee all I write in vain;

My humble fighs fhall only reach thy ears,
And all my eloquence fhall be my tears.

And now (for more I never must pretend)
Hear me not as thy lover, but thy friend;
Thousands will fain thy little heart ensnare,
For without danger none like thee are fair

But wifely chufe who beft deferves thy flame,
So fhall the choice itself become thy fame;
Nor yet defpife, though void of winning art,
The plain and honeft courtship of the heart:
The skilful tongue in love's persuasive lore,
Though lefs it feels, will please and flatter more,
And meanly learned in that guilty trade
Can long abuse a fond, unthinking maid.
And fince their lips, fo knowing to deceive,
Thy unexperienc'd youth might foon believe,
And fince their tears in falfe fubmiffion drest
Might thaw the icy coldness of thy breast,
O! fhut thine eyes to fuch deceitful woe;
Caught by the beauty of thy outward show,
Like me they do not love, whate'er they seem,
with paffion founded on esteem.

Like me

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