But oh, I fighing, fighing, see
The happy fwain! fhe ne'er can be
Falfe to him, or kind to me.

Yet, if I could humbly fhow her,

Ah! how wretched I remain;
'Tis not, sure, a thing below her,
Still to pity fo much pain.

The gods fome pleasure, pleasure take,
Happy as themselves to make
Thofe who fuffer for their fake.

Since your hand alone was given

To a wretch not worth your care;
Like fome angel fent from heaven,

Come, and raise me from defpair;
Your heart I cannot, cannot miis,
And I defire no other blifs;
Let all the world befides be his.

DESPAI R.

ALL hopeless of relief,

Incapable of reft,

In vain I ftrive to vent a grief

That's not to be exprest.

This rage within my veins

No reafon can remove;

Of all the mind's most cruel pains,

The sharpeft, fure, is love.

D

Yet

Yet while I languish so,

And on thee vainly call;

Take heed, fair caufe of all my woe,

What fate may thee befall.

Ungrateful, cruel faults

Suit not thy gentle fex;

Hereafter, how will guilty thoughts
Thy tender conscience vex!

When welcome Death fhall bring
Relief to wretched me,

My foul enlarg'd, and once on wing,
In hafte will fly to thee.

When in thy lonely bed

My ghost its moan fhall make,
With faddeft figns that I am dead,
And dead for thy dear fake;

Struck with that confcious blow,
Thy very foul will start :

Pale as my shadow thou wilt grow,
And cold as is thy heart.

Too late remorfe will then

Untimely pity fhow

To him, who of all mortal men
Did moft thy value know.

Yet, with this broken heart,

I wish thou never be

Tormented with the thousandth part

Of what I feel for thee.

On

On Apprehenfion of lofing what he had newly

gained.

IN ΙΜΙΤΑΤΙΟΝ OF OVID.

SURE I of all men am the first
That ever was by kindness curst,
Who muft my only blifs bemoan,
And am by happiness undone.

Had I at distance only feen
That lovely face, I might have been
With the delightful object pleas'd,
But not with all this paffion feiz'd.
When afterwards fo near I came
As to be fcorch'd in beauty's flame;
To fo much foftnefs, fo much sense,
Reafon itself made no defence.

What pleasing thoughts poffefs'd my mind
When little favours fhew'd you kind!
And though, when coldness oft' prevail'd,
My heart would fink, and spirits fail'd,
Yet willingly the yoke I bore,

And all your chains as bracelets wore :
At your lov'd feet all day would lie,
Defiring, without knowing why;
For, not yet bleft within your arms,

Who could have thought of half your charms?

Charms of fuch a wondrous kind,
Words we cannot, muft not find,
A body worthy of your mind.
Fancy could ne'er fo high reflect,
Nor love itfelf fuch joys expect.

After fuch embraces paft,
Whole memory will ever last,
Love is ftill reflecting back;
All my foul is on a rack :
To be in hell 's fufficient curfe,
But to fall from heaven is worse.
I liv'd in grief cre this I knew,
But then I dwelt in darkness too,
Of gains, alas! I could not boast;
But little thought how much I loft.
Now heart-devouring eagerness,
And fharp impatience to poffefs;
Now restless cares, confuming fires,
Anxious thoughts, and fierce defires,
Tear my heart to that degree,
For ever fix'd on only thee:
Then all my comfort is, I fhall
Live in thy arms, or not at all.

THE

S

RECONCILEMENT.

N

G.

}

C

COME, let us now refolve at last To live and love in quiet; We'll tie the knot so very fast,

That Time fhall ne'er untie it.

The

The trueft joys they feldom prove,

Who free from quarrels live; 'Tis the most tender part of love,

Each other to forgive.

When leaft I feem'd concern'd, I took

No pleasure, nor no reft;

And when I feign'd an angry look,

Alas! I lov'd you best.

Own but the fame to me, you'll find

How bleft will be our fate;

Oh, to be happy, to be kind,
Sure never is too late.

F

ROM all uneafy paffions free,
Revenge, ambition, jealousy,
Contented I had been too bleft,
If love and you had let me rest :
Yet that dull life I now defpife;
Safe from your eyes,

I fear'd no griefs, but then I found no joys.

Amidft a thousand kind defires,

Which beauty moves, and love infpires;

Such pangs I feel of tender fear,

No heart fo foft as mine can bear:

Yet I'll defy the worst of harms;

Such are your charms,

'Tis worth a life to die within your arms.