III.

So to his hoarded gold the mifer steals,.
And lofes every forrow at the fight;
Yet wishes ftill for more, nor ever feels.
Entire contentment, or fecure delight.

IV.

Ah! fhould I lofe thee, my too lovely maid,
Couldst thou forget thy heart was ever mine,
Fear not thy letters fhould the change upbraid;,
My hand each dear memorial fhall resign :

V.

Not one kind word shall in my power remain,,
A painful witness of reproach to thee;

And left my heart should still their fenfe retain,
My heart, fhall break, to leave thee wholly free..

A PRAYER TO VENUS,

IN HER TEMPLE AT STOWE.

F

TO THE SAME. /

I.

AIR Venus, whofe delightful shrine fürveys
Its front reflected in the filver lake,

These humble offerings, which thy fervant pays,
Fresh flowers, and myrtle wreaths, propitious take.

II. If

II.

If lefs my love exceeds all other love,

Than Lucy's charms all other charms excel, Far from my breast each soothing hope remove, And there let fad Despair for ever dwell.

III.

But if my foul is fill'd with her alone;
No other wish, nor other object knows;
Oh! make her, Goddess, make her all my own,
And give my trembling heart secure repose!

IV.

No watchful spies I ask, to guard her charms,
No walls of brass, no steel-defended door:
Place her but once within my circling arms,
Love's fureft fort, and I will doubt no more.

TO THE SAME.

ON HER PLEADING WANT OF TIME.

I.

ON Thames's bank, a gentle youth

For Lucy figh'd, with matchlefs truth,
Ev'n when he figh'd in rhyme;
The lovely maid his flame return'd,
And would with equal warmth have burn'd,
But that he had not time.

II. Oft

II.

Oft he repair'd with eager feet
In fecret fhades his fair to meet,

Beneath th' accuftom'd lime:

She would have fondly met him there,
And heal'd with love each tender care,
But that he had not time.

III.

"It was not thus, inconftant maid!
"You acted once," (the fhepherd faid)
"When love was in its prime :"

She griev'd to hear him thus complain;
And would have writ, to eafe his pain,
But that she had not time.

IV.

How can you act fo cold a part?

No crime of mine has chang'd your heart,
If love be not a crime.-

We foon must part for months, for years-
She would have answer'd with her tears,
But that she had not time.

YOUR

TO THE SAME.

UR shape, your lips, your eyes, are ftill the
fame,

Still the bright object of my conftant flame;
But where is now the tender glance, that ftole,
With gentle sweetness, my enchanted foul ?

Kind

Kind fears, impatient wifhes, foft defires,
Each melting charm that Love alone infpires
Thefe, thefe are loft; and I behold no more
The maid, my heart delighted to adore.
Yet, ftill unchang'd, ftill doating to excefs,
I ought, but dare not try, to love you lefs ;.
Weakly I grieve, unpitied I complain ; ·

But not unpunish'd shall your change remain;

For you, cold maid, whom no complaints can move, Were far more bleft, when you like me, could love..

TO THE SAME.

I..

HEN I think on your truth, I doubt you no

WHI

more,

I blame all the fears I gave way to before:

I fay to my heart, "Be at reft, and believe

"That whom once he has chofen fhe never will leave."

II.

But, ah! when I think on each ravishing grace

That plays in the fmiles of that heavenly face;
My heart beats again; I again apprehend
Some fortunate rival in every friend.

III.

Thefe painful fufpicions you cannot remove,
Since you neither can leffen your charms nor my love;
But doubts caus'd by paffion you never can blame;
For they are not ill. founded, or you feel the fame..

ΤΟ

TO THE SAME;

WITH A NEW WATCH.

WITH me while prefent, may thy lovely eyes

Be never turn'd upon this golden toy :

Think every pleafing hour too swiftly flies;
And meafure time, by joy fucceeding joy!

But when the cares that interrupt our blifs
To me not always will thy fight allow;
Then oft with kind impatience look on this,
Then every minute count-as I do now.

AN IRREGULA.R

YE

O D E.

WRITTEN AT WICKHAM IN 1746.

TO THE SAME.

I.

E fylvan scenes with artless beauty gay,
Ye gentle fhades of Wickham, fay,
What is the charm that each fucceffive year,
Which fees me with my Lucy here,
Can thus to my transported heart
A fenfe of joy unfelt before impart ?

II.

Is it glad Summer's balmy breath, that blows
From the fair jafmine and the blushing rofe?

Her