When in the crowd yours undistinguish'd lies, For to my state the hopes of common peace, WOMAN'S HONOUR. G. A S O N I. LOVE bid me hope, and I obey'd; Phillis continued ftill unkind : Then you may e'en despair, he faid, II. Honour's got in, and keeps her heart, Durft he but venture once abroad, This huffing Honour domineers IV. Let IV. Let me ftill languish and complain, Be most inhumanly deny'd : V. I fall a facrifice to Love, She lives a wretch for Honour's fake. Whofe tyrant does most cruel prove, The difference is not hard to make. VI. Confider Real Honour then, You'll find hers cannot be the fame; 'Tis noble confidence in men, In women mean miftruftful fhame. Then to the Trojans they grew kind, to the Was with their arms to let them go, And leave their lingering wives behind. They beat the men, and burnt the town; Then all the baggage was their own. II. There the kind deity of wine Kifs'd the foft wanton god of love; This This clapp'd his wings, that prefs'd his vine; And their best powers united move. While each brave Greek embrac'd his punk, THE MISTRESS. A SON G. I. AN age, in her embraces paft, Would feem a winter's day; Where life and light, with envious hafte, But, oh! how flowly minutes roll, That fed my love, which is my foul, It languishes and dies. III. For then, no more a foul but shade, It mournfully does move; The living tomb of love. IV. You wifer men despise me not; Whofe love-fick fancy raves, On fhades of fouls, and heaven knows what : Short ages live in graves. V. Whene'er V. Whene'er those wounding eyes, fo full Had you not been profoundly dull, You had gone mad like me. VI. Nor cenfure us, you who perceive VII. Alas! 'tis facred jealousy, Love rais'd to an extreme; The only proof, 'twixt them and me, VIII. Fantastic fancies fondly move, And in frail joys believe: Kind jealous doubts, tormenting fears, A SO N G. I. BSENT from thee I languish ftill; II. Dear, from thine arms then let me fly, That tears my fix'd heart from my love. III. When wearied with a world of woe To thy fafe bofom I retire, Where love, and peace, and truth, does flow, IV. Left, once more wandering from that heaven, A SONG. I. PHILLIS, be gentler, I advise, Make up for time mif-spent, When beauty on its death-bed lies, 'Tis high time to repent. II. Such |