Yet fpeak, for my distraction grows apace,
And racking fears and restless doubts increase;
And fears and doubts to jealousy will turn,
The hottest hell, in which a heart can burn.

FAIR Amoret is gone aftray;

Purfue and feek her, every lover; I'll tell the figns, by which you may The wandering fhepherdefs difcover.

H.

Coquet and coy at once her air,

Both ftudy'd, though both feem neglected; Careless the is with artful care,

Affecting to feem unaffected.

III.

With skill her eyes dart every glance,

Yet change fo foon you 'd ne'er fufpect them; For the 'd perfuade they wound by chance, Though certain aim and art direct them.

IV.

She likes herself, yet others hates

For that which in herself the prizes ; And, while fhe laughs at them, forgets

She is the thing that the defpifes.

LES

LES BI A.

WHEN Lesbia firft I faw fo heavenly fair,

With eyes fo bright, and with that awful air,
I thought my heart, which durft so high aspire,
As bold as his who fnatch'd cœleftial fire.
But foon as e'er the beauteous idiot spoke,
Forth from her coral lips fuch folly broke,

Like balm the trickling nonfenfe heal'd my wound,
And what her eyes enthrall'd her tongue unbound.

DOR I S.

DORIS, a nymph of riper age,

Has every grace and art,

A wife obferver to engage,

Or wound a heedlefs heart.

Of native blush, and rofy dye,

Time has her cheek bereft ;

Which makes the prudent nymph supply
With paint th' injurious theft.

Her sparkling eyes fhe ftill retains,
And teeth in good repair;

And her well-furnish'd front difdains
Το grace with borrow'd hair.

Of fize, fhe is nor fhort, nor tall,

And does to fat incline

No more, than what the French would call

Farther, her person to disclose

I leave---let it fuffice,

She has few faults, but what she knows,

And can with fkill disguise.

She many lovers has refus'd,

With many more comply'd;

Which, like her cloaths, when little us'd,
She always lays afide.

She's one, who looks with great contempt
On each affected creature,
Whofe nicety would seem exempt
From appetites of nature.

She thinks they want or health or fenfe,
Who want an inclination;

And therefore never takes offence
At him who pleads his paffion.
Whom the refuses, fhe treats ftill
With so much sweet behaviour,
That her refufal, through her fklll,
Looks almoft like a favour.

Since the this foftness can exprefs
To those whom she rejects,
She must be very fond, you'll guefs,

Of fuch whom the affects:

But here our Doris far outgoes,

All that her fex have done;

She no regard for custom knows,

Which reafon bids her fhun.

By

By reafon her own reason 's meant,
Or, if you please, her will:
For, when this laft is discontent,
The firft is ferv'd but ill.
Peculiar therefore is her way;
Whether by Nature taught,
I fhall not undertake to say,
Or by Experience bought.

But who o'er night obtain'd her grace,
She can next day disown,

And ftare upon the strange man's face,
As one the ne'er had known.

So well the can the truth difguife,
Such artful wonder frame,
The lover or diftrufts his eyes,
Or thinks 'twas all a dream.

Some cenfure this as lewd and low,
Who are to bounty blind;
For to forget what we bestow
Befpeaks a noble mind.

Doris our thanks nor afks, nor needs:

For all her favours done

From her love flows, as light proceeds Spontaneous from the sun.

On one or other ftill her fires

Difplay their genial force;

And fhe, like Sol, alone retires,

To fhine elsewhere of courfe.

TO SLEEP.

E LEG Y.

Sleep! thou flatterer of happy minds,

How foon a troubled breast thy falfehood finds!
Thou common friend, officious in thy aid,
Where no diftrefs is fhown, nor want betray'd:
But oh, how swift, how fure thou art to fhun
The wretch, by fortune or by love undone !
Where are thy gentle dews, thy fofter powers,
Which us'd to wait upon my midnight hours?
Why dost thou cease thy hovering wings to fpread,
With friendly fhade around my restless bed?
Can no complainings thy compaffion move?
Is thy antipathy so strong to love!

O no! thou art the profperous lover's friend,
And doft uncall'd his pleafing toils attend.
With equal kindness, and with rival charms,
Thy flumbers lull him in his fair-one's arms;
Or from her bofom he to thine retires,

Where footh'd with ease the panting youth refpires,
Till foft repofe reftore his drooping fenfe,
And Rapture is reliev'd by Indolence.
But oh, what fortune does the lover bear,
Forlorn by thee, and haunted by Despair!
From racking thoughts by no kind slumber freed,
But painful nights his joyless days fucceed.

But