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When all my joys complete in you I find,
Shall I not share the forrows of your mind?
O tell me, tell me all---whence does arife

This flood of tears? whence are these frequent fighs
Why does that lovely head, like a fair flower
Opprefs'd with drops of a hard-falling fhower,
Bend with its weight of grief, and seem to grow
Downward to earth, and kifs the root of woe?
Lean on my breaft, and let me fold thee fast,
Lock'd in these arms, think all thy forrows paft;
Or what remain think lighter made by me;
So I should think, were I fo held by thee.
Murmur thy plaints, and gently wound my ears;
Sigh on my lip, and let me drink thy tears;
Join to my cheek thy cold and dewy face,
And let pale grief to glowing love give place.
O fpeak for woe in filence most appears;
Speak, ere my fancy magnify my fears.
Is there a caufe, which words can not exprefs!
Can I not bear a part, nor make it lefs?

I know not what to think---am I in fault?
I have not, to my knowledge, err'd in thought,
Nor wander'd from my love; nor would I be
Lord of the world, to live depriv'd of thee.
You weep afresh, and at that word you start!
Am I to be depriv'd then ?---must we part?
Curfe on that word fo ready to be spoke,
For through my lips, unmeant by me, it broke.
Oh no, we muft not, will not, can not part,
And my tongue talks, unprompted by my heart.

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

A MORE T.

I.

FAIR Amoret is gone aftray;

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

II.

Coquet and coy at once her air,

Both study'd, though both feem neglected; Carelefs fhe is with artful care,

Affecting to feem unaffected.

III.

With skill her eyes dait every glance,

Yet change fo foon you'd ne'er fufpect them; For fhe'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 she defpifes.

LES.

LESBIA.

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 fupply
With paint th' injurious theft.

Her fparkling eyes fhe still retains,
And teeth in good repair;

And her well-furnish'd front difdains
To 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

Aimable Embonpoint.

H 4

4

Farther,

Farther, her person to disclose

I leave---let it fuffice,

She has few faults, but what she knows,
And can with skill difguise.

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 feem 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 refufes, fhe treats ftill
With fo much sweet behaviour,
That her refufal, through her sklll,
Looks almost like a favour.

Since the this softness can exprefs
To those whom the rejects,
She must be very fond, you'll guess,

Of fuch whom the affects:

But here our Doris far outgoes,

All that her fex have done;

She no regard for cuftom knows,

Which reafon bids her fhun.

By

By reafon her own reafon 's meant,
Or, if you please, her will:
For, when this laft is difcontent,
The firft is fery'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 difown,

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

So well she can the truth disguise,
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
Bespeaks 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 fun.

On one or other still her fires

Display their genial force; And fhe, like Sol, alone retires, To shine elsewhere of courfe.

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