SONG CIII.

Go, 80, 80, 80, falfest of thy fex, be gone,

Leave, leave, ah leave me, leave me to myself alone!

Why would you strive by fond pretence,

Thus to destroy my innocence?
Go, go, &c.leave, leave, &c.

Young Celia, you too late betray'd,
Then thus you did the nymph upbraid,
"Love, like a dream ufher'd by night,
Flies the approach of morning light."
Go, go, &c.leave, leave, &c.

She that believes man when he fwears,
Or least regards his oaths and prayers,
May she, fond fhe, be most accurst;
Nay more, be fubject to his lust.
Go, go, &c.leave, leave, &c.

BELINDA, with affected mien,

Tries all the power of art;

Yet finds her efforts all in vain,

To gain a single heart :
Whilft Chloe, in a different way,

Is but herself to please,

And makes new conquests every day,
Without one borrow'd grace.

Belinda's haughty air destroys
What native charms inspire ;
While Chloe's artless shining eyes
Set all the world on fire :

Belinda may our pity move;
But Chloe gives us pain,
And while fhe fmiles us into love,
Her fifter frowns in vain.

SONG CV.

ΟΝ

N a bank of flowers,
In a fummer-day,

Inviting and undress'd,

In her bloom of youth,

Fair Celia lay,

With love and fleep opprefs'd;

When a youthful fwain,
With admiring eyes,

Wish'd that he durft

The sweet maid furprise ;
With a fa, la, la, la, &c.
But fear'd approaching spies.

As he gaz'd,

A gentle zephyr arose,
That fann'd her robes afide :
And the sleeping nymph
Did the charms disclose,

Which waking she would hide :
Then his breath grew short,
And his pulse beat high,
He long'd to touch
What he chanc'd to spy;

With a fa, la, la, la, &c.
But durft not still draw nigh.

All amaz'd he stood,
With her beauties fir'd,
And bless'd the courteous wind;
Then in whispers figh'd,
And the gods defir'd,

That Celia might be kind :
When with hopes grown bold,
He advanc'd amain;
But fhe laugh'd loud
In a dream, and again,
With a fa, la, la, la, &c.
Repell'd the timorous fwain.

Yet the amorous youth,
To relieve his foft pain,
The flumb'ring maid carefs'd;
And with trembling hand
(O fimple poor fwain !)

Her glowing bofom prefs'd:
When the virgin awak'd,
And affrighted flew,
Yet look'd as wishing
He wou'd pursue:

With a fa, la, la, la, &c.
But Damon mifs'd his cue.

Now, now repenting,
That he had let her fly,
Himself he thus accus'd,

What a dull and a stupid
Blockhead was I,

That fuch a chance abus'd?

To my shame 'twill now
On the plains be said,
Damon a virgin

Afleep betray'd,

With a fa, la, la, la, &c.

And let her go a maid.

SONG CVI.

WHILE filently I lov'd, nor dar'd

To tell my crime aloud,

The influence of your smiles I fhar'd, In common with the croud.

But when I once my flames expreft, In hopes to ease my pain,

You fingl'd me out from all the rest, The mark of your disdain.

If thus, Corinna, you shall frown
On all that I adore,

Then all mankind must be undone,
Or you must smile no more.

SONG CVII.

H! happy, happy grove,

OH!

Witness of our tender love;

Oh! happy, happy shade,

Where firft our vows were made :
Blushing, sighing, melting, dying,
Looks would charm a Jove;
A thousand pretty things she said,
And all and all was love.
But Corinna perjur'd proves,
And forfakes the shady groves;
When I speak of mutual joys,

She knows not what I mean;
Wanton glances, fond careffes
Now no more are seen,
Since the falfe deluding fair

Has left the flow'ry green:

Mourn, ye nymphs, that sporting play'd, ` Where poor Strephon was betray'd; There the secret wound she gave,

When I was made her flave.

SONG CVIII.

THE fages of old,

In prophecy told

The cause of a nation's undoing;
But our new English breed

No prophecies need,

For each one here feeks his own ruin.

With grumbling and jars,
We promote civil wars,

And preach up false tenets to many;
We fnarl and we bite,

We rail and we fight
For religion, yet no man has any.

Then him let's commend,

That's true to his friend,

And the church and the fenate would fettle; Who delights not in blood,

But draws when he shou'd,

And bravely stands brunt to the battle.

Who rails not at kings,

Nor politic things,

Nor treason will speak when he's mellow;
But takes a full glass,

To his country's success:

This, this is an honest brave fellow.