The Apollo: being a collection of English songs; including a selection of Masonic songs, anthems, odes, preludes, prologues, epilogues, toasts, &c.

2011-05

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THE APOLLO: BEING A COLLECTION OF ENGLISH SONGS; INCLUDING A SELECTION OF MASONIC SONGS, ANTHEMS, ODES, PRELUDES, PROLOGUES, EPILOGUES, TOASTS, &c.

PHILADELPHIA: PRINTED BY WILLIAM SPOTSWOOD. M.DCC.XCI

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TABLE of FIRST LINES.

PAGE
Ah! Chloris, coul'd I now but sit, PAGE 56
Ah! the shepherd's mour [...]ful fate. PAGE 2
Ah! why must words my flame reveal, PAGE 6
Alexis shunn'd his fellow swains, PAGE 89
All in the Down, the fleet was mo [...]'d PAGE 83
All my past life is mine no more, PAGE 46
An amorous swain to J [...]no pray'd, PAGE 47
As Amu [...]et with Phyllis sat, PAGE 29
As Ariana young and fair, PAGE 65
As near a weeping spring reclin'd, PAGE 9
As on a summer's day, PAGE 88
As the snow in valleys lying, PAGE 54
At Cynthia's feet, I pray'd I wept, PAGE 67
Away, let nought to love displeasing, PAGE 34

Bid me when forty winters more, PAGE 30
Blest as th' immortal Gods is he, PAGE 1
Boast not, mistaken swain, thy. PAGE 37
Bacchus, rosy God of wine, PAGE 107
Bacchus, god of rosy wine, PAGE 109
By the gaily circling glass, PAGE 7
Banish sorrow, let's drink, PAGE ib
Behold how good and joyful, PAGE 139

Can love be controul'd by advice, PAGE 29
Celia, hoard thy charms no more, PAGE 53
[...] you would repent, PAGE 55
Chloe brisk and gay appears, PAGE 51
Chloe's the wonder of her sex, PAGE 50
Chloris, yourself you so excel, PAGE 66
Come all ye youths whose hearts, PAGE 22
Come here fond youth, whoe'er thou be, PAGE 7
Come little infant love me now, PAGE 58
Come shepherds we'll follow the hearse, PAGE 104
Corinna cost me many a prayer, PAGE 45
Cupid instruct an amorous swain, PAGE 48
Cynthia frowns whene'er I woo her, PAGE 40
Contented I am and contented I'll be, PAGE 122
Come push the bowl about, PAGE 135
Come let us prepare, PAGE 150

Damon if you will believe. PAGE 42
Daphuts stood pensae in the shade, PAGE 65
Dear Chloe while thus beyond m [...]s [...]e, PAGE 33
Dear Colin prevent my warm b [...]shes, PAGE 44
Despairing beside a clear stream, PAGE 86
Drunk as a drag in sure is he, PAGE 123

Ere God the universe began PAGE 146

Fair Amoret is gone astray, PAGE. 40
Fair and soft and gay and young, PAGE. 26
Far in the windings of a vale, PAGE. 93
Fly, thoughtless youth, PAGE. 20
For ever, Fortane, wilt thou prove, PAGE. 30
From all uneasy passions free, PAGE. 1
From place to place forlorn I go, PAGE. 2
Fill your glasses banish grief, PAGE. 11
From the east breaks the morn, PAGE. 13
Fidelity once had a fancy to rove, PAGE. 14

Gentle air, thou breath of lovers, PAGE. 5 [...]
Good madam, when ladies are willing, PAGE. 44
Go plaintive sounds, and to the fair, PAGE. 17
Go tell Amynta, gentle swain, PAGE. 3
Grant us, kind heaven, PAGE. 139
Genius of Masonry descend, PAGE. 147
Glorious Craft which fires the mind, PAGE. 149
Give me glasses, my wench, PAGE. 105

Hail to the myrtle shads, PAGE. 14
Hail to the Cress! PAGE. 141
Hail Masonry! PAGE. 151
How oft at the dawn of the day, PAGE. 136
Hark, hark ye, how echoes, PAGE. 134
Hail! Madeira, thou juice divine, PAGE. 111
Hark! away to the Downs, PAGE. 126
Hark the joy inspiring horn, PAGE. 132

If [...] [...]ou didst joy to bind, PAGE. 8
If the [...] spirit of your eye, PAGE. 55
If wine a [...] music have the power, PAGE. 5
In Chloris all s [...]st charms agree, PAGE. 41
In vain dear Chloe you suggest, PAGE. 68
In vain fond youth, thy tears give o'er, PAGE. 52
In vain you tell your parting lover, PAGE. [...]
I tell thee Charmion, could I time, PAGE. [...]
It is not, Celia in our power, PAGE. [...]
It was a friar of orders gray, PAGE. [...]
If life is a b [...]bble and breaks, PAGE. 108
I've known what 'tis to face a foe, PAGE. 137
If treasured gold could give, PAGE. 115
I am a jolly huntsman, PAGE. 129
In storms when clouds obscure the sky, PAGE. 126

Late when love I seem'd to slight, PAGE. [...]
Let not love on me bestow, PAGE. [...]
Let the ambitious favour find, PAGE. [...]
Love and Folly were at play, PAGE. [...]
Love's a dream of mighty treasure, PAGE. [...]
[Page] Last Valentine's Day, PAGE. 128
Life is chequered—toil and pleasure, PAGE. 135
[...] Masonry, from pole to pole, PAGE. 145

Mistaken fair lay Sherlock by, PAGE. 50
Mortals, learn your lives to measure, PAGE. 30
My banks they are furnished with bees, PAGE. 99
My dear mistress has a heart, PAGE. 18
My love was fickle once and changing, PAGE. 38
My temples with clusters of grapes, PAGE. 116

Not, Celia, that I juster am, PAGE. 38
Now see my Goddess, earthly born, PAGE. 12
Now we are free from college rules, PAGE 119

O'er moorlands and mountains, &c. PAGE. 97
Of Leinster fam'd for maidens fair, PAGE. 78
Oft on the troubled ocean's face, PAGE. 20
Oh turn away, those cruel [...]es, PAGE. 52
On a ba [...] beside a willow, PAGE. 22
[...] Nancy [...]lt thou go with me, PAGE. 35
On Belina [...]a's [...]osom lying, PAGE. 37
One morning very early, one morning, PAGE. 90
O the days when I was young, PAGE. 121
Oh Masonry our hearts inspire, PAGE. 140
On, on my dear brethren, PAGE. 152

Prepar'd to rail, resolv'd to part, PAGE. 21
Pursuing beauty men descry, PAGE
Pho! pox o' this nonsense, PAGE. 121

Roving about good fellows, PAGE. 119

Say lovely dream, PAGE. 58
Say, Myra, why is gentle love, PAGE. 39
Say not Olinda, I despise, PAGE. 33
She loves and, she confesses too, PAGE. 60
Should some perverse malignant star, PAGE. 69
Stella and Flavia every hour, PAGE. 62
Strephon has fashion, wit and youth, PAGE. 66
Strephon when you see me fly, PAGE. 11
Swain, thy hopeless passion smother, PAGE. 48
Since life's but a span, PAGE. 109

Tell me no more I am deceiv'd, PAGE. 49
Tell me not I my time mispend, PAGE. 31
Tell me my Strephon that I die, PAGE. 25
The graces and the wand'ring loves, PAGE. 57
The heavy hours are almost past, PAGE. 4
The merchant to secure his treasure, PAGE. 53
There is one dark and sullen [...], PAGE. [...]
The sun was sunk beneath the hill, PAGE. 9
The western sky was purpled o'er, PAGE. 9
Tho' cruel you seem to my pain, PAGE. [...]
Thy fatal shafts unerring move, PAGE. [...]
'Tis not the liquid brightness of those, PAGE. 1
'Tis now since I sat down before, PAGE. 6
To fair Fidele's grassy tomb, PAGE. [...]
Too plain, dear youth those tell-tale, PAGE. 1
To the brook and the willow, PAGE. [...]
Turn, gentle hermit of the dale, PAGE. 7
'Twas when the seas were roaring, PAGE. 8
To banish life's troubles, PAGE. 10
The festive board was met, PAGE. 113
The thirsty earth sucks up, PAGE. 118
There was once it is said, PAGE. 124
The dusky night rides down the sky, PAGE. 128
To the chase, to the chase, PAGE. 133
To heaven's high architect, PAGE. 139

Unite, unite your voices, PAGE. 146

Vain are the charms of white and red, PAGE. 51

Waft me some soft and cooling breeze, PAGE. 15
What beauties do [...]s Flora disclose, PAGE. 92
What! put off with one denial, PAGE. 43
When all was wrapt in dark midnight PAGE. 80
When Delia on the plain appears, PAGE. 5
When first I saw Lucinda's face, PAGE. 66
When first I saw thee graceful move, PAGE. 12
When first I sought fair Celia's love, PAGE. 45
When first upon your tender cheek, PAGE. 64
When gentle Celia first I knew, PAGE. 63
When here Lucinda first we came, PAGE. 24
When lovely woman stoops to folly, PAGE. 25
When Orpheus went down, PAGE. 50
When Sappho tun'd the raptur'd strain, PAGE. 16
When your beauty appears, PAGE. 29
While in the bower with beauty blest, PAGE. 16
Why cruel creature, why so bent, PAGE. 31
Why we love and why we hate, PAGE. 44
Why will Florella while I gaze, PAGE. 69
Why will you my passion reprove, PAGE. 101
Wine, wine in the morning, PAGE. 68
When Jove was resolv'd, PAGE. 105
Wel [...] [...] my good friends, PAGE. 106
When Bacchus first planted the vine, PAGE. 110
Whate're s [...]ueamish lover [...] may say, PAGE. 112
When first a mason I was made, PAGE. 148
[Page] When I drain the rosy bowl, PAGE. 113
While others barter ease for state, PAGE. 114
Within a cool and pleasant shade, PAGE. 115
What Cato advises most certainly, PAGE. 117
We'll drink, and we'll never, PAGE. 123
When Phoebus begins, PAGE. 134
Wake the lute and quivering strings, PAGE. 141
What solemn sounds, PAGE. 142
When the Deity's word, PAGE. 145

Ye happy swains whose hearts are free, PAGE. 28
Ye little loves, that round her wait, PAGE. 47
Yes, fairest proof of beauty's power, PAGE. 8
Yes Fulvia is like Venus fair, PAGE. 426
Ye shepherds and nymphs, PAGE. 273
Ye shepherds give car to my lay, PAGE. 102
Ye shepherds so cheerful and gay, PAGE. 98
Yes, I'm in love I feel it now, PAGE. 46
Young I am and yet unskill'd, PAGE. 32
You know that our ancient, PAGE. 122
Ye frolick some sparks of the game, PAGE. 137
Ye sons of great science, PAGE. 144

MASONIC Toasts—London, 1785.

1. MAY universal masonry be the only universal monarchy—and reign triumphant in the hearts of the worthy.
2. May the tongue of every mason be the key of his heart: may it ever hang in just equilibrium—and never be suffered to lie, to injure a brother.
3. May every mason's heart have the ardency of charcoal, and the freedom of chalk —but not the coldness or hardness of marble, when the distresses of a brother claim assistance.
4. The square in conduct, the level in condition, the plumb-line in rectitude, and the compass in prudence, to all masons.
5. The splendour of the east, the repose of the south, and the solidity of the west, to every regular lodge of free and accepted masons.
6. May the fragrance of good report, like a sprig of cassia, bloom over the kead [...] may they have as much reason to admire our wisdom, as the queen of Sheba had that of our grand master Solomon.
8. May we be entered apprentices to beauty and fellow crasts in love, but still masters of our passions.
9. May wisdom contrive our happiness; strength support our virtuous resolutions; and beauty adorn our beds.
10. May the rays of celestial light pierce through the veil of ignorance, and perseverance remove the key-stone that covers truth.
11. May the royal arch cover every honest mason's heart: and the glory of the first temple overshadow all, who act [...]p to the true principles of masonry.

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PASSIONATE. AND DESCRIPTIVE SONGS.

BLEST as th' immortal Gods is he,
The youth that fondly sits by thee;
And sees and hears thee, all the while,
Softly speak, and sweetly smile.

'Twas this depriv'd my soul of rest,
And rais'd such tumults in my breast;
For while I gaz'd, in transport tost,
My breath was gone, my voice was lost.

My bosom glow'd, a subtle flame
Ran quick thro' all my vital frame;
O'er my dim eyes a darkness hung,
My ears with hollow murmurs rung.

In dewy damps my limbs were chill'd,
My blood with gentle horrors thrill'd;
My feeble pulse forgot to play,
I fainted, sunk, and died away.

THY fatal shafts unerring move,
I bow before thine altar, Love;
I feel the soft resistless flame
Glide swift thro' all my my vital frame.

For while I gaze, my bosom glows,
My blood in tides impetuous flows;

[Page 2] Hope, fear, and joy alternate roll,
And floods of transport whelm my soul.

My falt'ring tongue attempts in vain
In soothing numbers to complain;
My tongue some secret magic ties,
My murmurs sink in broken sighs.

Condemn'd to nurse eternal care,
And ever drop the silent tear,
Unheard I mourn, unknown I sigh,
Un
 [...]endly live, unpity'd die.

AH! the shepherd's mournful fate!
When doom'd to love, and doom'd to languish,
To bear the scornful fair one's hate,
Nor dare disclose his anguish.

Yet eager looks and dying sighs,
My secret soul discover,
While rapture trembling thro' my eyes
Reveals how much I love her.

The tender glance, the redd'ning cheek,
O'erspread with rising blushes,
A thousand various ways they speak
A thousand various wishes.

For oh! that sorm so heav'nly fair,
Those languid eyes so sweetly smiling.
That artless blush, and modest air,
So artfully beguiling!

Thy ev'ry look, and ev'ry grace
So charms whene'er I view thee,
Till death o'ertake me in the chase,
Still will my hopes pursue thee.

Then when my tedious hours are past
Be this last blessing given,
Low at thy feet to breathe my last,
And die in sight of Heaven.

[Page 3]

GO, tell AMYNTA, gentle swain,
I would not die, nor dave complain;
Thy tuneful voice with numbers jo
 [...]n,
Thy voice will more prevail than mine:

For souls oppress'd, and dumb with grief,
The gods ordain'd this kind relief,
That music should in sounds convey
What dying lovers dare not say.

A sigh, or tear, perhaps, she'll give,
But love on pity cannot live.
Tell her, that hearts for hearts were made,
And love with love is only paid.

Tell her, my pains so fast increase,
That soon they will be past redress;
For ah! the wretch that speechless lies,
Attends but death to close his eyes.

YES, fairest proof of beauty's power,
Dear idol of my panting heart;
Nature points this my fatal hour;
And I have liv'd; and we must part.

While now I take my last adieu,
Heave thou no sigh, nor shed a tear,
Lest yet my half-clos'd eye may view
On earth an object worth its care.

From jealousy's tormenting strife
For ever be thy bosom freed;
That nothing may disturb thy life
Content I hasten to the dead.

Yet when some better fated youth
Shall with his am'rous parley move thee,
Reflect one moment on his truth
Who dying thus, persists to love thee.

[Page 4]
IN vai
 [...] you tell your parting lover
You wish 
 [...]air winds may waft him over:
Alas! what winds can happy prove
That bear me far from what I love?
Alas! what dangers on the main
Can equal those which I sustain
From flighted vows and cold disdain?
Be gentle, and in pity choose
To wish the wildest tempests loose;
That, thrown again upon the coast
Where first my shipwreck'd heart was lost,
I may once more repeat my pain,
Once more in dying notes complain
Of slighted vows and cold disdain.

THE heavy hours are almost past
That part my love and me;
My longing eyes may hope at last
Their only wish to see.

But how, my DELIA, will you meet
The man you've lost so long?
Will love in all your pulses beat,
And tremble on your tongue?

Will you in every look declare
Your heart is still the same;
And heal each idle anxious care
Our fears in absence frame?

Thus DELIA, thus I paint the scene
When shortly we shall meet,
And try what yet remains between
Of loit'ring time to cheat.

But if the dream that sooths my mind
Shall false and groundless prove,
If I am doom'd at length to find
You have forgot to love;

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All I of Venus ask is this,

No more to let u [...] join;

But grant me here the flatt'ring bliss,

To die and think you mine.

IF wine and music have the pow'r
To ease the sickness of the soul,
Let Phoebus every thing explore,
And Bacchus fill the sprightly bowl.

Let them their friendly aid employ
To make my CHLOE's absence light,
And seek for pleasure, to destroy
The sorrows of this live-long night.

But she to morrow will return;
Venus be thou to-morrow great,
Thy myrtles strew, thy odours burn,
And meet thy fav'rite nymph in state.

Kind Goddess, to no other pow'rs
Let us to-morrow's blessings own;
The darling loves shall guide the hours,
And all the day be thine alone.

WHEN DELIA on the plains appears,
Aw'd by a thousand tender fears,
I would approach, but dare not move;
Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

Whene'er she speaks, my ravish'd ear
No other voice but hers can hear,
No other wit but hers approve;
Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

If she some other swain commend,
Tho' I was once his sondest friend,

[Page 6] His instant enemy I prove:
Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

When she is absent, I no more
Delight in all that pleas'd before,
The clearest spring, the shediest grove;
Tell me, my heart, if this love?

When sond of pow'r, of beauty vain,
Her nets she spread for every swain,
I strove to hate, but vainly strove;
Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

AH! why must words my flame reveal?
Why needs my DAMON bid me tell,
What all my actions prove?
A blush whene'er I meet his eve
Whene'er I hear his name, a sigh
Betrays my secret love.

In all their sports upon the plain
Mine eyes still fix'd on him remain,
And him alone approve;
The rest unheeded dance or play,
From all he steals my praise away,
And can he doubt my love?

Whene'er we meet, my looks confess
The joys that all my soul possess,
And ev'ry care remove;
Still, still too short appears his stay,
The moments fly too fast away,
Too fast for my fond love.

Does any speak in DAMON's praise,
So pleas'd am I with all he says,
I ev'ry word approve;
But is he blam'd, although in jest,
I feel resentment fire my breast,
Ala
 [...]! because I love.

[Page 7]
But ah! what tortures tear my heart,
When I suspect his looks impart
The least desire to rove!
I hate the maid that gives me pain,
Yet him to hate I strive in vain,
For ah! that hate is love.

Then ask not words, but read mine eyes,
Believe my blushes, trust my sighs,
My passion these will prove;
Words oft deceive and spring from art,
The true expressions of my heart
To DAMON, must be love.

COME here, fond youth, whoe'er thou be
That boasts to love as well as me,
And if thy breast have felt so wide a wound,
Come hither and thy flame approve;
I'll teach thee what it is to love,
And by what marks true passion may be found.

It is to be all bath'd in tears,
To live upon a smile for years.
To lie whole ages at a beauty's feet;
To kneel, to languish, and implore,
And still, tho' she dislain, adore;
It is to do all this and think thy suffering sweet.

It is to gaze upon her eyes
With eager joy and fond surprize,
Yet temper'd with such chaste and awful fear
As wretches feel who wait their doom;
Nor must one ruder thought presume,
Tho' but in whispers breath'd, to meet her ear.

It is to hope, tho' hope were lost,
Tho' heav'n and earth thy passion crost;
Tho' she were bright as sainted queens above,
And thou the least and meanest swain
That folds his stock upon the plain,
Yet if thou da
 [...]'st not hope, thou dost not love.

[Page 8]
It is to quen
 [...]h thy joy in tears,
To nurse stra
 [...]ge doubts and groundless fears;
If pangs of jealousy thou hast not prov'd,
Tho' she 
 [...]ere fonder and more true
Than any nymph old poets drew,
Oh never dream again that thou hast lov'd.

If when the darling maid is gone,
Thou dost not seek to be alone,
Wrapt in a pleasing trance of tender woe;
And muse, and fold thy languid arms,
Feeding thy fancy on her charms,
Thou dost not love, for love is nourish'd so.

If any hopes thy bosom share
But those which love has planted there,
Or any cares but his thy breast enthral,
Thou never yet his pow'r hast known;
Love sits on a despotic throne,
And reigns a tyrant, if he reigns at all.

Now if thou art so lost a thing,
Here all thy tender sorrows bring,
And prove whose patience longest can endure;
We'll strive whose fancy shall be lost
In dreams of fondest passion most,
For if thou hast lov'd, oh! never hope a cure.

IF ever thou didst joy to bind
Two hearts in equal passion join'd,
O son of Venus! hear me now,
And bid FLORELLA bless my vow.

If any bliss reserv'd for me
Thou in the leaves of fate should'st see,
If any white propitious hour,
Pregnant with hoarded joys in store;

Now, now the mighty treasure give,
In her for whom alone I live;

[Page 9] In sterling love pay all the s
 [...]m,
And I'll abso
 [...]ve the fates to come.

In 
 [...] the pride of full-blown charms
Y
 [...] her, relenting, to my a
 [...]s;
Her bosom touch with 
 [...] 
 [...]h
 [...]s,
An
 [...] let her feel what s
 [...] 
 [...]s
 [...]es.

But, Cupid, if thi
 [...] and be 
 [...]n
The dear reluctant maid a gain,
If still with cold aver 
 [...]
She dash my hopes, and 
 [...]com my sighs;

O! grant ('tis all I ask of thee)
That I no more may change than she;
But still with duteous zeal love on,
When ev'ry gleam of hope is gone.

Leave me then alone to languish,
Think not time can heal my angu
 [...],
Pity the woes which I endure,
But never, never grant a cure.

AS near a weeping spring reclin'd,
The beautecus ARAMINTA pin'd,
And mourn'd a false ungrateful youth;
While dying echoes caught the sound,
And spread the soft complaints around
Of broken vows and alter'd truth;

An aged shepherd heard her moan,
And thus in pity's kindest tone,
Address'd the lost despairing maid;
Cease, cease, unhappy fair, to grieve,
For sounds, tho' sweer, can ne'er relieve
A breaking heart by love betray'd.

Why shouldst thou waste such precious show'rs,
That fall like dew on wither'd flow'rs,

[Page 10] But dying passion ne'er restor'd;
In beauty's empire is no mean,
And woman, either slave or queen,
Is quickly scorn'd when not ador'd.

Those liquid pearls from either eye,
Which might an eastern empire buy,
Unvalu'd here and fruirlefs fall;
No art the season can renew
Wh
 [...]n love was young, and DAMON true,
No tears a wand'ring heart recall.

Cease, cease to grieve, thy tears are vain,
Should those fair orbs in drops of rain
Vie with a weeping southern sky;
For hearts o'ercome with love and grief
All nature vields but one relief;
D
 [...], hapiess ARAMINTA, die,

TOO plain, dear youth, these tell-tale eyes
My heart your own declare;
But for heav'n sake let it suffice
You reign triumphant there.

Forbear your utmost power to try,
Nor further urge your sway;
Press not for what I must deny,
For fear I should obey.

Could all your arts successful prove,
Would you a maid undo,
Whose greatest failing is her love,
And that her love for you?

Say, would you use that very pow'r
You from her fondness claim,
To rain in one fatal hour
A life of spotless fame?

Resolve not then to do an ill,
Because perhaps you may,
But rather use your utmost skill
To save me than betray,

[Page 11]

Be you yourself my virtue's guard,

Defend and not pursue,

Since 'tis a task for me too hard

To strive with love and you.

STREPHON when you see me fly
Let not this your fear create,
Maids may be as often shy
Out of love as out of hate;
When from you I fly away,
It is because I dare not stay.

Did I out of hatred run
Less you'd be my pain and care;
But the youth I love, to shun,
Who can such a trial bear?
Who that such a swain did see
Who could love and fly like me?

Cruel duty bid me go,
Gentle love commands me stay;
Duty's still to love a foe,
Shail I this or that obey?
Daty frowns, and Cupid smiles,
That defends and this beguiles.

Ever by those crystal streams
I could sit and hear thee sigh,
Ravish'd with these pleasing dreams,
O 'tis worse than death to fly:
But the danger is so great
Fear gives wings, instead of hate.

STREPHON, if you love me, leave me,
If you stay, I am undone;
Oh! with ease you may deceive me,
Pri'thee charming swain be gone.
Heav'n decrees that we should part,
That has my vows, but you my heart.

[Page 12]

WHEN first I saw thee graceful move,
Ah me, what meant my throbbing breast
Say, soft confusion, art thou love?
If love thou art, then farewell rest !

Since doom'd I am to love thee, fair,
Tho' hopeless of a warm return,
Yet kill me not with cold despair,
But let me live and let me burn.

With gentle smiles asswage the pain
Those gentle smiles did first create:
And, tho' you cannot love again,
In pity, oh! forbear to hate.

NOW see my goddess earthly born,


*
With smiling looks, and sparkling eyes,
And with a bloom that shades the morn
New risen in the eastern skies!

Furnish'd from nature's boundless store,
And one of pleasure's laughing train,
Stranger to all the wise explore,
She proves all far-fought knowledge vain.

Untaught as Venus, when she found
Herself first floating on the sea,
And laughing begg'd the Tritons round
For shame to look some other way.

And unaccomplish'd all as Eve
In th
 [...] first morning of her life,
When Adam blush'd, and ask'd her leave
To take her hand, and call her wife.

Yet 
 [...]he
 [...]e is something in her face,
Tho' she's unread in Plato's lore,
Might bring e'en Plato to disgrace,
For leaving precepts taught before.

[Page 13]

And there is magic in her eye,

Tho' she's unskill'd to conjure down

The pale moon from th' affrighted sky,

Would draw Endymion from the moon.

And there are words that she can speak,
Most easy to be understood,
More sweet than all the Heathen Greek
By Helen spoke, when Paris woo'd.

And she has raptures in her pow'r,
More worth than all the flatt'ring claim
Of learning's unsubstantial dow'r,
In present praise or future fame.

Let me but kiss her soft warm hand,
And let me whisper in her ear
What knowledge would not understand,
And wisdom would disdain to hear.

And let her listen to my tale,
And let one smiling blush arise,
Blest omen that my vows prevail!
I'll scorn the scornef all the wise.

'TIS not the liquid brightness of those eyes,
That swim with pleasure and delight;
Nor those fair heavenly arches which arise
O'er each of them to shade their light;
'Tis not that hair which plays with every wind,
And loves to wanton round thy face;
Now straying o'er thy forehead, now behind
Retiring with insidious grace.

'Tis not that lovely range of teeth, as white
As new shorne sheep, equal and fair;
Nor even that gentle smile, the heart's delight,
With which no fraile could e'er compare;

[Page 14] 'Tis not that chin so round, that neck so fine,
Those breasts that swell to meet my love;
That easy sloping waist, that form divine,
Nor ought below, nor ought above.

'Tis not the living colours over each,
By nature's finest pencil wrought,
To shame the fresh blown rose, and blooming peach,
And mock the happiest painters thought:
But 'tis that gentle mind, that ardent love,
So kindly answering my desire;
That grace with which you look, and speak, and move,
That thus have set my soul on fire.

HAIL to the myrtle shade,
All hail to the nymphs of the fields!
Kings would not her
 [...] invade
The pleasure that virtue yields.
Beauty here opens her arms,
To soften the languishing mind,
And PHYLLIS unlocks her charms;
Ah PHYLLIS! oh why so unkind?

PHYLLIS, thou soul of love,
Thou joy of the neighbouring swains;
PHYLLIS, that crowns the grove,
And PHYLLIS that gilds the plains,
PHYLLIS, that ne'er had the skill
To paint, to patch and be fine,
Yet PHYLLIS whose eyes can kill,
Whom nature hath made divine.

PHYLLIS, whose charming song
Makes labour and pains a delight;
PHYLLIS, that makes the day young,
And shortens the live-long night;
PHYLLIS, Whose lips like May
Still laugh at the sweets they bring;
Where love never knows decay,
But sits with eternal spring.

[Page 15]

WAFT me some soft and cooling breeze
To Windsor's shady kind retreat,
Where sylvan scenes, wide spreading trees
Repel the raging dog-star's heat.

Where tufted grass, and mossy beds
Afford a rural calm repose;
Where woodbines hang their dewy heads,
And fragrant sweets around disclose.

Old oozy Thames that flows fast by
Along the smiling valley plays
His glassy surface cheers the eye,
And thro' the flow'ry meadows strays.

His fertile banks with herbage green
His vales with smiling plenty swell;
Where'er his purer stream is seen
The Gods of health and pleasure dwell.

Let me thy clear, thy yielding wave
With naked arm once more divide;
In thee my glowing bosom lave,
And stem thy gentle rolling tide.

Lay me with damask roses crown'd
Beneath some ofier's dusky shade,
Where water lilies paint the ground
And bubbling springs refresh the glade.

Let chaste CLARINDA too be there
With azure mantle lightly drest;
Ye nymphs bind up her silken hair;
Ye Zephyrs fan her panting breast.

O haste away, fair maid, and bring
The Muse, the kindly friend to love,
To thee alone the Muse shall sing
And warble thro' the vocal grove.

[Page 16]

WHILE in the bower with beauty blest
The lov'd AMINTOR lies,
While sinking on ZELINDA's breast
He fondly kiss'd her eyes;

A waking nightingale who long
Had mourn'd within the shade,
Sweetly renew'd her plaintive song,
And warbled thro' the glade.

Melodious songstress, cried the swain,
To shades less happy go,
Or if with us thou wilt remain
Forbear thy tuneful woe.

While in ZELINDA's arms I lie
To soug I am not free;
On her soft bosom while I sigh
I discord find in thee.

ZELINDA gives me perfect joys;
Then cease thy fond intrusion;
Be silent music; now is noise,
Variety, confusion.

WHEN SAPPHO tun'd the raptur'd strain
The list'ning wretch forgot his pain;
With art divine the lyre she strung,
Like thee she play'd like thee she sung.

For while she struck the quiv'ring wire
The eager breast was all on fire;
And when she join'd the vocal lay
The captive soul was charm'd away.

But had she added still to these
Thy soster, chaster, power to please;
Thy beauteous air of sprightly youth,
Thy native smiles 
 [...] artless truth;

[Page 17]

She ne'er had pin'd beneath disdain,

She ne'er had play'd and sung in vain;

Despair had ne'er her soul possest

To dash on rocks the tender breast.

GO plaintive sounds! and to the fair
My secret wounds impart,
Tell all I hope, tell all I fear,
Each motion in my heart.

But she, methinks, is list'ning now
To some enchanting strain;
The smile that triumphs o'er her brow
Seems not to heed my pain.

Yes, plaintive sounds! yet, yet delay,
Howe'er my love repine;
Let that gay minute pass away,
The next perhaps is thine.

Yes, plaintive sounds! no longer crost,
Your grief shall soon be o'er;
Her cheek, undimpled now, has lost
The smile it lately wore.

Yes, plaintive sounds! she now is yours,
'Tis now your time to move;
Essay to soften all her powers,
And be that softness, love.

Cease, plaintive sounds! your task is done;
That anxious tender air
Proves o'er her heart the conquest won;
I see you melting there.

Return, ye smiles, return again,
Return each sorightly grace;
I yield up to your charming reign
All that enchanting face.

[Page 18]

I take no outward shew amiss,

Rove where you will, her eyes;

Still let her smiles each shepherd bless,

So she but hear my sighs.

WHEN charming TERAMINTA sings,
Each new air new passion brings;
Now I resolve, and now I fear;
Now I triumph, now despair;
Frolic now, now faint I grow;
Now I freeze, and now I glow.
The panting zephyrs round her play,
And trembling on her lips would stay;

Now would listen, now would kiss
Trembling with divided bliss;
Till, by her breath repuls'd, they fly,
And in low pleasing murmurs die.
Nor do I ask that she would give
By some new note, the pow'r to live;
I would, expiring with the sound,
Die on the lips that gave the wound,

MY dear mistress has a heart,
Soft as those kind looks she gave me,
When with love's resistless art,
And her eyes, she did enslave me:
But her constancy's so weak,
She's so wild and apt towan ler,
That my jealous heart would break
Should we live one day asunder.

Melting joys about her move,
Wounding pleasures, killing blisses,
She can dress her eyes in love,
And her lips can arm with kisses;

[Page 19] Angels listen when she speaks,
She's my delight, all mankind's wonder,
But my jealous heart would break,
Should we live one day asunder.

LET the ambitious favour find
In courts and empty noise,
Whilst greater love does fill my mind
With silent real joys.

Let fools and knaves grow rich and great
And the world think 'em wise,
Whilst I lie dying at her feet,
And all that world despise.

Let conquering kings new trophies raise,
And melt in court delights,
Her eyes can give me brighter days,
Her arms much softer nights.

FROM all uneasy passions free,
Revenge, ambition, jealousy,
Conte
 [...]ed, I had been too blest
If love and you had let me rest:
Yet that dull life I now despise;
Safe from your eyes
I fear'd no griefs, but then I sound no joys.

Amidst a thousand kind desires
Which beauty moves and love inspires,
Such pangs I feel of tender fear,
No heart so soft as mine can bear.
Yet' I'll defy the worst of harms,

 [...] Such are your charms,
Tis worth a l
 [...]fe to die within your arms.

[Page 20]

OFT on the troubled ocean's face
Loud stormy winds arise;
The murmuring surges swell apace,
And clouds obscure the skies.

But when the tempest's rage is o'er,
Soft breezes smooth the main;
The billows cease to lash the shore,
And all is calm again

Not so in fond and amorous souls
If tyrant love once reigns,
There one eternal tempest rolls
And yields unceasing pains.

FLY thoughtless youth, th'enchan'ress fly!


*
To other climes direct thy way;
Let honour's plume attract thine eye,
Nor waste in indolence the day:
She nor regards thy sighs or tears
She triumphs in thy jealous fears,
An
 [...] would rejoice to blast the blossom of thy years.

Yet yonder myrtle's fragrant shade,
Where sparkling winds the chrystal rill,
Has seen this fa
 [...]e, this cruel maid,
Fond as her wanton lover's will:
Has seen thee on her breast reclin'd,
Has seen her arms around thee twin'd,
While won caresses sweet she woo'd thee to be kind.

[Page 21]
But since no more the inconstant fair
Will listen to thy tender vow,
Let nobler objects claim thy care,
And bid the faithless maid adieu.
Adieu, false beauty! hence no more
CATULLUS will thy smile implore,
To shun thy hated charms he seeks a foreign shore.

Him thou wilt mourn, when sure decay
Shall rob that form of every grace;
And for each charm it st
 [...]als away,
Shall add a wrinkle to that face:
No lover then for thee will sigh,
Or read the glances of thine eye,
Or on thy once lo
 [...]'d breast in amorous transports die.

Alas CATULLUS! you in vain
Would spurn imperial beauty's sway;
Fast bound in Venus' magic chain,
Soon will each re
 [...]el wish decay?
E'en now, should LESBIA hither move
In her accustom'd looks of love,
How weak, how feeble arl thy strong resolves would prove.

PREPAR'D to rail, resolv'd to part,
When I approach the perjur'd maid
What is it awes my timorous heart?
Why is my tongue afraid?

With the least glance a little kind
Such won l'rons power have MYRA'S charms,
She calms my doubts, enslaves my mind,
And all my 
 [...]age disarms.

Forgetful of her broken vows
When gazing on that form divine,
Her injur'd vassal trembling bows,
Nor dares her slave repine.

[Page 22]

COME all ye youths whose hearts e'er bled,
By cruel beauty's pride;
Bring each a garland on his head,
Let none his sorrows hide:
But hand in hand around me move,
Singing the faddest tales of love;
And see, when your complaints ye join,
If all your wrongs can equal mine.

The happiest mortal once was I,
My heart no sorrows knew;
Pity the pain with which I die,
But ask nor whence it grew:
Yet 
 [...] a tem
 [...]ing fair you find,
That's very lovely, very kind,
Tho' bright as Heav'n whose stamp she bears,
Think of my sate, and shun her snares.

ON a bank, beside a willow,
Heav'
 [...] her 
 [...]overing, earth her pillow,
S
 [...] 
 [...]TA sigh'd alone:
From 
 [...] dawn of morning,
Till the dews of 
 [...]ght returning,
Singing thus she made her moan;
Hope is banish'd,
Joys are vanish'd,
DAMON, my belov'd is gone.

Time, I dare thee to discover
Such a y
 [...]h, and such a lover,
Oh! 
 [...]o true so kind was h
 [...]!
DAMON was the pride of nature,
Cha
 [...] 
 [...] h
 [...]s ever, feature,
DAMON liv'd alone for me;
M
 [...]ing kisses,
Murmuring blisses,
Who so liv'd, and lov'd as we?

[Page 23]
Never shall we curse the morning,
Never bless the night returning,
Sweet embraces to restore;
Never shall we both lie dying,
Nature failing, love supplying
All the joys he drain'd before:
Death come end me
To befriend me;
Love and DAMON are no more!

TO the brook and the willow that heard him com­plain,
Ah willow! willow!
Poor COLIN went weeping, and told them his pain.
Sweet stream, he cry'd, sadly I'll teach thee to flow.
And the waters shall rise to the brink with my woe.
All restless and painful my CELIA now lies,
And counts the sad moments of time as it flies:
To the nymph, my heart's love, ye soft slumbers repair,
Spread your downy wings o'er her, and make her your care;
Let me be lest restless, mine eyes never close,
So the sleep that I lose give my dear one repose.
Sweet stream! if you chance by her pillow to creep,
Perhaps your soft murmurs may lull her to sleep.
But if I am doom'd to be wretched indeed,
And the loss of my charmer the fates have decreed,
Believe me, thou fair one, thou dear one, believe,
Few sighs to thy loss, and few tears will I give;
One sate to thy COLIN and thee shall betide,
And soon lay thy shepherd down by thy cold side.
Then glide, gentle brook, and to lose thyself haste,
Bear this to my willow; this verse is my last.
Ah willow! willow! Ah willow! willow;

[Page 24]

TO sair FIDELE's grassy tomb,
Soft maids and village hinds shall bring
Each op'ning sweet of earliest bloom,
And rifle all the breathing spring.

No wailing ghost shall dare appear
To vex with shrieks this quiet grove,
But shepherd lads assemble here,
And melting virgins own their love,

No wither'd witch shall here be seen,
No goblins lead their nightly crew;
But female fays shall haunt the green,
And dress thy grave with pearly dew.

The 
 [...]ed breast oft at evening hours
Shall kindly lend his little aid,
With hoary moss and gather'd flow'rs
To deck the ground where thou art laid.

When howling winds and beating rain
In tempests shake the sylvan cell;
Or 'midst the chace upon the plain
The tender thought on thee shall dwell.

Each lonely scence shall thee restore,
For thee the tear be duly thed;
Belov'd, till life can charm no more,
And mourn'd, till pity's self be dead.

WHEN here LUCINDA first we came
Where Arno rolls his silver stream,
How blithe the nymphs, the swains how gay.
Content inspir'd each rural lay.
The b
 [...]rds in livelier concert sung,
The grapes in thicker clusters hung,
All look'd as joy could never fail
Among the sweets of Arno's vale.

[Page 25] But now since good PALAEMON died,
The chief of shepherds and the pride,
Old Arno's sons must all give place
To northern swains, an iron race.
The taste of pleasures now is o'er,
Thy notes LUCINDA please no more,
The Muses droop, the Goths prevail,
Adieu the sweets of Arno's vale.

WHEN lovely woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that men betray,
What charm can sooth her melancholy?
What art can wash her guilt away?

The only art her guilt to cover,
To hide her shame from every eye,
To give repentance to her lover,
And wring his bosom, is—to die.

TELL my STREPHON that I die;
Let echoes to each other tell,
Till the mournful accents fly
To STREPHON's ear, and all is well.

But gently breathe the fatal truth,
And soften every harsher sound,
For STREPHON's such a tender youth,
The softest words too deep will wound.

Now fountains, echoes, all be dumb;
For should I cost my swain a tear,
I should repent it in my tomb,
And grieve I bought my rest so dear.

FROM place to place, forlorn, I go,
With downcast eyes, a silent shade;
Forbidden to declare my wo;
To speak, till spoken to, afraid.

[Page 26]

My inward pangs, my secret grief,

My soft consenting looks betray;

He loves, but gives me no relief;

Why speaks not he who may?

THERE is one dark and sullen hour,
Which fate decrees our lives should know,
Else we should slight th' Almighty power,
Wrapt in the joys we find below:
'Tis past dear CYNTHIA, now let frowns begone,
A long, long pennance I have done
For crimes, alas! to me unknown.

In each soft hour of silent night
Your image in my dream 
 [...]ppears;
I grasp the soul of my delight,
Slumber in joys, but wake in tears:
Ah! faithless charming saint, what will you do?
Let me 
 [...]ot think I am by you
Lov'd less for being true.

FAIR, and soft, and gay, and young,
All charm! she play'd, she danc'd, she sung,
There was no way to 'scape the dart,
No care could guard the lover's heart.
Ah! why, cry'd I, and dropt a tea
 [...]
(Adoring, yet despairing e'er
To have her to myself alone)
Was so much sweetness made for one?

But growing bolder, in her car
Im soft numbers told my care:
She heard, and rais'd me from her feet,
And seem'd to glow with equal heat,
Like Heaven's, too mighty to express,
My joys could but be known by guess
Ah! fool, said I, what have I done,
To wish he
 [...] made for more than one?

But long I had not been in view,

Before her eyes their beams withdrew;

[Page 27]
Ere I had reckon'd half her charms
She sunk into another's arms.
But she that once could faithless be,
Will favour him no more than me:
He too will find himself undone,
And that she was not made for one.

THO' cruel you seem to my pain,
And hate me because I am true;
Yet, PHYLLIS, you love a false swain,
Who has other nymphs in his view.

Enjoyment's a trifle to him,
To me what a heaven 'twould be!
To him but a woman you seem,
But, ah! you're an angel to me.

Those lips which he touches in haste
To them I for ever could grow;
Still clinging around that dear waist
Which he spans as beside him you go.

That arm, like a lily so white,
Which over his shoulders you lay,
My bosom could warm it all night,
My lips they could press it all day.

Were I like a monarch to reign,
Were graces my subjects to be,
I'd leave them, and fly to the plain,
To dwell in a cottage with thee.

But if I must feel your disdain,
If tears cannot cruelty drown,
Oh! let me not live in this pain,
But give me my death in a frown.

YE shepherds and nymphs that adorn the gay plain,
Approach from your sports and attend to my strain;
Among
 [...] all your number a lover so true
Was ne'er so undone with such bliss in his view.

[Page 28]

Was ever a nymph so hard-hearted as mine?

She knows me sincere, and she sees how I pine;

She does not disdain me nor frown in her wrath,

But calmly and mildly resigns me to death.

She calls me her friend, but her lover denies;
She smiles when I'm chearful, but hears not my sighs,
A bosom so flinty, so gentle an air,
Inspires me with hope, and yet bids me despair.

I fall at her feet and implore her with tears;
Her answer confounds, while her manner endears:
When softly she tells me to hope no relief
My trembling lips bless her in spite of my grief.

By night, when I slumber, still haunted with care,
I star
 [...] up in anguish, and sigh for the fair:
The fair sleeps in peace, may she ever do so!
And only when dreaming imagine my wo.

Then gaze at a distance, nor farther aspire,
Nor think she could love whom she cannot admire:
Hush all thy complaining, and dying her slave
Commend her to Heaven, and thyself to the grave.

YE happy swains whose hearts are free
From love's imperial chain,
Take warning and be taught by me
T' avoid th' inchanting pain;

Fatal the wolves to trembling flocks,
Fierce winds to blossoms prove,
To careless seamen hidden rocks,
To human quiet love.

Fly the fair sex if bliss you prize,
The snake's 
 [...]eath the flower:
Who ever gaz'd on beauteous eyes
That tasted quiet more?

How faithless is the lover's joy!
How constant is their care!
The kind with falsehood do destroy,
The cruel with despair.

[Page 29]

WHEN your beauty appears
In its graces and airs,
All bright as an angel new dropt from the sky;
At distance I gaze, and am aw'd by my fears,
So strangely you dazzle my eye!

But when without art,
Your kind thoughts you impart,
When your love runs in blushes through every vein;
When it darts from your eyes, when it pants in your heart,
Then I know you're a woman again.

There's a passion and pride
In our sex she reply'd,
And thus, might I gratify both, would I do;
Still an angel appear to each lover beside,
But yet be a woman to you.

AS AMORET with PHYLLIS sat
One evening on the plain,
And saw the gentle STREPHON wait
To tell the nymph his pain,
The threatning danger to remove,
She whisper'd in her ear,
Ah PHYLLIS! if you would love,
That shepherd do not hear.

None even had so strange an art
His passion to convey
Into a list'ning virgin's heart,
And steal her soul away.
Fly, fly betimes for sear you give
Occasion for your fate,
In vain said she, in vain I strive;
Alas! 'tis now too late.

CAN love be controul'd by advice,
Can madness and reason agree?
O MOLLY, who'd ever be wife,
If madness is loving of thee?

[Page 30] Let sages pretend to despise
The joys they want spirits to taste,
Let us seize old time as he flies,
And the blessings of life while they last.

Dull wisdom but adds to our cares;
Brisk love will improve ev'ry joy,
Too soon we may meet with gray hairs,
Too late may repent being coy.
Then MOLLY, for what should we stay
Till our best blood begins to run cold?
Our youth we can have but to day,
We may always find time to grow old.

MORTALS, learn your lives to measure
Not by length of time, but pleasure;
Now the hours invite, comply;
While you idly pause, they fly:
Blest, a nimble pace they keep,
But in torment, then they creep.

Mortals, learn your lives to measure
Not by length of time, but pleasure;
Soon your spring must have a fall;
Losing youth, is losing all:
Then you'll ask, but none will give,
And may linger, but not live.

BID me when forty winters more
Have furrow'd deep my pallid brow,
When from my head, a scanty store,
Lankly the wither'd tresses flow;
When the warm tide, that bold and strong
Now rolls impetuous on and free,
Languid and slow scarce creeps along,
Then bid me court sobriety.

Nature who form'd the varied scene
Of rage and calm, of frost and fire,
Unerring guide, could only mean,
That age should reason, youth desire.

[Page 31] Shall then that rebel man, presume
(Inverting nature's law) to seize
The dues of age in youth's high bloom,
And join impossibilities?

No—let me waste the frolic May
In wanton joys and wild excess,
In revel sport and laughter gay
And mirth, and rosy chearfulness;
Woman, the soul of all delights,
And wine the aid of love be near;
All charms me that to joy incites,
And every she that's kind is fair.

TELL me not I my time mispend,
'Tis time lost to reprove me;
Pursue thou thine, I have my end,
So CHLORIS only love me.

Tell me not other's flocks are full,
Mine poor, let them despise me
Who more abound in milk and wool,
So CHLORIS only prize me.

Tire others' easier ears with these
Unappertaining stories;
He never feels the world's disease
Who cares not for her glories.

For pity, thou that wiser art,
Whose thoughts lie wide of mine,
Let me alone with my own heart,
And I'll ne'er envy thine.

Nor blame him, whoe'er blames my wit,
That seeks no higher prize,
Than in unenvy'd shades to sit,
And sing of CHLORIS' eyes.

WHY, cruel creature, why so bent,
To vex a tender heart?
To gold and title you relent;
Love throws in vain his dart.

[Page 32]

Let glitt'ring fops in courts be great,

For pay let armies move:

Beauty should have no other bait,

But gentle vows and love.

If on those endless charms you lay
The value that's their due;
Kings are themselves too poor to pay;
A thousand worlds too few.

But if a passion without advice,
Without disguise or art,
Ah CELIA! it true love's your price,
Behold it in my heart.

FOREVER, Fortune, wilt thou prove
An unrelenting foe to love;
And when we meet a mutual heart,
Come in between and bid us part?

Bid us sigh on from day to day,
And wish and wish, the soul away,
Till youth and genial years are flown,
And all the life of life is gone?

But busy, busy still art thou,
Yo bind the loveless joyless vow,
The heart from pleasure to delude,
And join the gentle to the rude.

For once, O Fortune, hear my pray'r
And I absolve thy suture 
 [...]e,
All other wishes I resign,
Make but the dear AMANDA mine.

YOUNG I am and yet unskill'd
How to make a lover yield;
How to keep, and how to gain,
When to love, and when to feign.

Take me, take me some of you
While I yet am young and true;

[Page 33] Ere I can my soul disguise,
Heave my breasts, and roll my eyes.

Stay not till I learn the way
How to lie and to betray;
He that has me first, is blest,
For I may deceive the rest.

Could I find a blooming youth
Full of love, and full of truth,
Brisk, and of a janty mien,
I should long to be fifteen.

SAY not, OLINDA, I despise,
The faded glories of your face,
The languish'd vigour of your eyes,
And that once only-lov'd embrace.

In vain, in vain, my constant heart,
On aged wings attempts to meet,
With wonted speech, those flames you dart,
It faints and flutters at your feet.

I blame not your decay of power,
You may have pointed beauties still,
Tho' me, alas! they wound no more;
You cannot hurt what cannot feel.

On youthful climes your beams display,
There you may cherish with your heat,
And rise the sun to gild their day,
To me, benighted, when you set.

DEAR CHLOE while thus beyond measure
You treat me with doubts and disdain;
You rob all your youth of its pleasure,
And hoard up an old age of pain:
Your maxim that love is still founded
On charms that will quickly decay,
You will find to be very ill grounded
When once you its dictates obey.

[Page 34]
The passion from beauty first drawn
Your kindness will vastly improve;
Soft looks and gay smiles are the dawn,
Fruition's the sun-shine of love:
And tho' the bright beams of your eyes
Should be clouded, that now are so gay,
And darkness obscure all the skies,
We ne'er can forget it was day

Old DARBY with JOAN by his side
You oft have regarded with wonder;
He is dropsical, she is sore-ey'd,
Yet they're ever uneasy asunder;
Together they totter about
And sit in the sun at the door,
And at night when old DARBY'S pot's out
His JOAN will not smoke a whiff more.

No beauty or wit they possess
Their several failings to smother,
Then what are the charms can you guess
That make them so fond of each other?
'Tis the pleasing remembrance of youth,
The endearments that love did bestow,
The thoughts of past pleasure and truth,
The best of all blessings below.

These traces for ever will last
Which sickness nor time can remove
For when youth and beau
 [...] 
 [...] past,
And age brings the winter of love,
A friendship insensibly grows,
By reviews of such raptures as these,
And the current of fondness still flows
Which decrepid old age cannot freeze.

AWAY, let nought to love displeasing
MY WINIFREDA move thy fear,
Let nought delay the heavenly blessing,
Nor squeamish pride, nor gloomy care.

[Page 35]

What tho' no grants of royal doners

With pompous titles grace our blood,

We'll shine in more substantial honours,

And to be noble we'll be good.

What tho' from fortune's lavish bounty
No mighty treasures we possess,
We'll find within our pittance plenty,
And be content without excess.

Still shall each kind returning season
Sufficient for our wishes give,
For we will live a life of reason,
And that's the only lise to live.

Our name while virtue thus we tender
Shall sweetly sound where'er 'tis spoke,
And all the great ones much shall wonder
How they admire such little folk.

Thro' youth and age in love excelling
We'll hand in hand together tread,
Sweet smiling peace shall crown our dwelling,
And babes, sweet smiling babes, our bed.

How should I love the pretty creatures,
Whilst round my knees they fondly clung,
To see them look their mother's features,
To hear 'em lisp their mother's tongue.

And when with envy time transported
Shall think to rob us of our joys;
You'll in your girls again be courted,
And I'll go wooing in my boys.

O NANCY, wilt thou go with me,
Nor sigh to leave the flaunting town:
Can silent glens have charms for thee,
The lowly cot and russet gown?
No longer drest in silken sheen,
No longer deck'd with jewels rare,
Say can'st thou quit each courtly scene,
Where thou werrfairest of the fair?

[Page 36]
O NANCY! when thou'rt far away,
Wilt thou not cast a wish behind?
Say can'st thou face the parching ray,
Nor shrink before the wintry wind?
O can that soft and gentle mien
Extremes of hardship learn to bear,
Nor sad regret each courtly scene,
Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

O NANCY! can'st thou love so true,
Thro' perils keen with me to go,
Or when thy swain mishap shall rue,
To share with him the pang of wo?
Say should disease or pain befall,
Wilt thou assume the nurse's care,
Nor wistful those gay scenes recall
Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

And when at last thy love shall die,
Wilt thou receive his parting breath?
Wilt thou repress each struggling sigh,
And cheer with smiles the bed of death?
And wilt thou o'er his breathless clay
Strew flowers and drop the tender tear;
Nor 
then regret those scenes so gay,
Where thou wert fairest of the fair?

[Page]

INGENIOUS AND WITTY SONGS.

ON BELVIDERA's bosom lying,
Wishing, panting, sighing, dying,
The cold regardless maid to move
With unavailing prayers I sue;
You first have taught 

 [...]e how to love,
Ah! teach me to be happy too.

But she, alas! unkindly wise,
To all my sighs and tears rephes,
'Tis every prudent maid's concern
Her lover's fondness to improve;
If to be happy you would learn,
You quickly should forget to love.

BOAST not, mistaken swain, thy art
To please my partial eyes;
The charms that have subdued my heart
Another may despise.

Thy face is to my humour made,
Another it may fright;
Perhaps by some fond whim betray'd
In oddness I delight.

Vain youth, to your confusion know
'Tis to my love's excess
You all your fancied beauties owe,
Which fade as that grows less.

[Page 38]

For your own sake, if not for mine,

You should preserve my fire,

Since you, my swain, no more will shine,

When I no more admire.

By me indeed you are allow'd
The wonder of your kind:
But be not of my judgment proud
Whom love has render'd blind.

MY love was fickle once and changing,
Nor e'er would settle in my heart,
From beauty still to beauty ranging,
In every face I found a dart.

'Twas first a charming shape enslav'd me,
An eye then gave the fatal stroke;
Till by her wit CORINNA sav'd me,
And all my former fetters broke.

But now a long and lasting anguish
For BELVIDERA I endure;
Hourly I sigh, and hourly languish,
Nor hope to find the wonted cure.

For here the false inconstant lover,
After a thousand beauties shown,
Does new surprising charms discover,
And finds variety in one.

NOT, CELLA, that I juster am,
Or truer than the rest;
For I would change each hour like them,
Were it my interest,

But I'm so fix'd alone to thee
By every thought I have,
That should you now my heart set free
'Twould be again your slave.

[Page 39]

All that in woman is ador'd

In thy dear self I [...]d;

For the whole sex can but afford

The handsome, and the kind.

Not to my virtue, but thy power
This constancy is due
When change itself can give no more
'Tis easy to be true.

IT is not, CELIA, in our bower
To say how long our love will last;
It may be we within this hour
May lose the joys we now do taste:
The blessed that immortal be
From change of love are only free:

Then since we mortal lovers are,
Ask not how long our love will last;
But while it does, let us take care
Each minute be with pleasure past:
Were it not 
 [...]ness to d
 [...]n
 [...]
To live, because we're sure to die?

SAY, MYRA, why is gentle love
A stranger to that mind,
Which pity and esteem can move;
Which can be just and 
 [...]ind?

Is it because you sear to share
The ills that love molest;
The jealous doubt, the tender care,
That rack the am'rous breast?

Alas! 
 [...]y to
 [...] d
 [...]g
 [...]ec of woe
We every bliss 
 [...]t gain:
The heart can 
 [...]er a transport know,
That never seels a pain.

[Page 40]

CYNTHIA frowns whene'er I woo her,
Yet she's vex'd if I give over;
Much she fears I should undo her,
But much more to lose her lover:
Thus in doubting she refuses,
And not winning thus she 
 [...]ofes.

Pr'ythee, CYNTHIA, look behind you,
Age and wrinkles will o'ertake you,
Then too late desire will find you
When the power does forsake you.
Think, oh! think, the sad condition
To be past, yet wish fruition.

LOVE's but the frailty of the mind
When 'tis not with ambition join'd;
A sickly flame, which if not fed expires,
And feeding, waste
 [...] in self-consuming sires.

'Tis not to wound a wanton boy.
Or 
 [...]m'ro
 [...]s youth, that gives the joy:
But 'tis the glory to have pierced 
 [...] 
 [...]wain
For whom inferior beauties 
 [...]igh'd in vain.

Then I alone the conquest prize,
When I insult a rival's eyes;
If there's delight in love, 'tis when I see
The heart which others bleed for, bleed for me.

FAIR AMORET is gone astray,
Purs
 [...] and seek her, every lover;
I'll 
 [...]e
 [...]l the signs by which you may
The wand'ting shepe
 [...]de
 [...]s discover.

Coquet and coy a
 [...] once her air,
Both study'd, tho' both seem 
 [...]eglected,
Care
 [...]s 
 [...]h
 [...] is w
 [...] 
 [...]fol care,
Affecting to seem unaffected.

[Page 41]

With skill her eyes dart every glance,

Yet change so soon you'd ne'er suspect 'em;

For sh [...]d persuade they wound [...]y chance,

Tho' certain [...]im and art direct 'em.

She likes herself, yet others hates
For that which in herself she prizes:
And, while 
 [...]he laughs at them, for gets.
She is the thing that she despises.

IN CHLORIS all soft charms agree,
Inchanting humour, pow'rful wit,
Beauty from affectation free,
And for eternal empire fit.
Where 
 [...] she go 
 [...]s love wa
 [...]s her eyes,
The women envy, men adore;
Tho' did she less the t
 [...]iumpt prize,
She would deserve the conquest more.

But vanity so much prevails,
She begs what none else would deny
Makes such advances with her 
 [...]yes,
The hope she gives prevents desire:
Catches a
 [...] every trifling heart,
Grows warm with every g
 [...]mm'ring flame;
The common prey so d
 [...]ads her dart,
It scarce can pierce a noble game.

I could l
 [...]e ages at her feet,
Adore her careless 
 [...]f my pain,
With tender vows her rigours meet,
Despair, love on, and not complain;
My passion from all change secu
 [...]e
No favours raise, no frown controuls;
I any torment can endure
But hoping with a crowd of fools.

YES FULVIA is like VENUS fair,
Has all her bloom and shape and air;
But still to perfect every grace,
She wants—the smile upon her face.

[Page 42]

The crown majestic JUNO wore,

And CYNTHIA's brow the crescent bore,

A helmet mark'd MINERVA's mein [...]

But smiles distinguish'd beauty's queen.

Her train was form'd of smiles and loves,
Her chariot drawn by gentlest doves,
And from her zone the nymph may find
'Tis beauty's province to be kind.

Then smile my fair; and all whose aim
Aspires to paint the Cyprian dame,
Or bid her breathe in living stone,
Shall take their forms from you alone.

I TELL thee, CHARMION, could I time retrieve,
And could again begin to love and live,
To you I should my earliest off'ring give;
I know my eyes 
 [...]uld lead my heart to you,
And I should all 
 [...] oaths and vows renew,
But, to be plain, I never would be true.

For by our weak and weary truth I find,
Love hates to centre in a point assign'd,
But runs with joy the circle of 
 [...]he mind:
Then let us never chain what should be fre
 [...],
But for relief of either sex agree;
Since women love to change, and so do we.

DAMON, if you will believe me,
'Tis not sighing on the plain,
Song nor sonnet can relieve ye;
Faint attempts in love are vain.

Urge but home the fair occasion,
And be master of the field;
To a powerful kind invasion
'Twere a mad
 [...]ess not to yield.

[Page 43]

Love gives out a large commission,

Still indulge [...] to the brave;

But one sin of base omission

Never woman yet forgave.

Tho' she vows she'll ne'er permit ye,
Cries you're rude and much to blame,
And with tears implores your pity;
Be not merciful, for shame.

When the fierce assault is over,
CHLORIS time enough will sind
This her cruel furious lover
Much more gentle, not so kind.

WHAT! put off with one denial,
And not make a second trial?
You might see my eyes consenting,
All about me was relenting;
Women oblig'd to dwell in forms
Forgive the youth that boldly storms.

Lovers when you sigh and languish,
When you tell us of your anguish,
To the nymph you'll be more pleasing
When those sorrows you are easing:
We love to try how far men dare,
And never wish the foe should spare.

LET not Love on me bestow
Soft distress and tender wo;
I know none but substantial blisses,
Eager glances, solid kisses.

I know not what the lovers feign
Of finer pleasure mix'd with pain;
Then pr'ythee give me, gentle boy,
None of thy grief, but all thy joy.

[Page 44]

WHY we love, and why we hate,
Is not granted us to know;
Random chance, or wilful fate
Guides the shaft from Cupid's bow.

If on me ZELINDA frown,
Madness 'tis all in me to grieve;
Since her will is not her own,
Why should I uneasy live.

If I for ZELINDA die
Deaf to poor MIZELLA's cries,
Ask not me the reason why;
Seek the riddle in the skies.

DEAR Co
 [...]y prevent my warm blushes,
Since how 
 [...] 
 [...]eak without pain?
My eyes have 
 [...] you my wishes,
O! can't y
 [...] 
 [...] meaning explain?

My passion would lose by expression,
And you too might cruelly blame:
Then don't you expect a confession,
Of what is too tender to name

Since yours is the province of speaking,
Why should you expect it from me?
Our wishes should be in our keeping,
Till you tell us what they should be:

Then quickly why don't you discover?
Did your heart feel such tortures as mine?
Eyes need not tell over and over
What I in my bosom confine

THE ANSWER.

GOOD Madam, when ladies are willing,
A man must needs look like a sool;
For one I would not give a shilling
For one that can love without rule.

[Page 45]

At least you should wait for our orfers,

Nor snatch like old maids in despair;

If you've lived to these years without proffers

Your sighs are now lost in the air.

You should leave us to guess at your blushing,
And not speak the matter too plain;
'Tis ours to be forward and pushing;
'Tis yours to allect a di'dain.

That you're in a terrible taking
From all your sond oghugs I see;
But the fruit that will fall without shaking
Indeed is too mellow for me.

WHEN first I sought fair CAELIA's love,
And ev'ry charm was new,
I swore by all the Gods above
To be for ever true.

But long in vain did I adore,
Long wept and sigh'd in vain;
She still protested, vow'd and swore
She ne'er would ease me pain.

At last o'ercorn she made me blest,
And yielded all her charms;
And I forlook her when possest,
And fled to other's arms.

But let not this, dear CAELIA, now
To rage thy breast incline,
For why, since you forget your vow,
Should I remember mine?

CORINNA cost me many a prayer,
Ere I her 
 [...]eart could ga
 [...].
But she ten thousand more should hear
To take that heart again.

[Page 46]

Despair I thought the greatest curse,

But to my cost I find

CORINNA's constancy still worse,

Most cruel when too kind.

How blindly then does Cupid crave,
How ill divide the joy,
Who does at first his lovers starve,
And then with plenty cloy.

ALL my past life is mine no more,
The flying hours are gone:
Like transitory dreams given o'er,
Whose images are kept in store
By memory alone.

The time that is to come, is not;
How then ca
 [...] be mine?
The present m
 [...] all my lot,
And that, as 
 [...] 
 [...]is got,
PHILLIS, 
 [...] thine.

Then talk not of inconstancy,
False hearts, and broken vows;
If I, by miracle, can be
This live-long minute true to thee,
'Tis all that Heaven allows.

YES, I'm in love, I feel it now,
And CELIA has undone me;
But yet I swear I can't tell how
The pleasing plague stole on me.

'Tis not her face that love creates,
For there no graces revel;
'Tis not her shape, for there the fates
Have rather been uncivil.

[Page 47]

'Tis not her air, for sure in that

There's nothing more than common;

And all her sense is only chat

Like any other woman.

Her voice, her touch might give th' alarm,
'Twas both, perhaps, or neither;
In short, 'twas that provoking charm
Of CELIA altogether.

YE little loves that round her wait
To bring me tidings of my fate,
As CELIA on her pillow lies,
Ah! gently whisper—STREPHON dies.

If this will not her pity move,
And the proud fair disdains to love,
Smile and say 'tis alla lie,
And haughty STREPHON scorns to die.

LOVE and folly were at play,
Both too wanton to be wise,
They fell out, and in the fray
Folly put out Cupid's eyes.

Straight the criminal was try'd,
And had this punishment assign'd,
Folly should to Love be ty'd,
And condemn'd to lead the blind.

AN amorous swain to Juno pray'd,
And thus his suit did move;
Give me, oh! give me the dear maid,
Or take away my love.

[Page 48]

The goddess thunder [...]d from the skie [...],

[...]nd granted his request;

[...] make him happy, made him wise,

And drove her from his breast

SWAIN, thy hopeles passion smother,


*
Perjur'd CELIA loves another!
In his arms I saw her lying,
Pating. kissing. trembling, dying;
There the fair deceiver swore,
All she did to you before.

Oh! said you when she deceives me,
When that constant creature leaves me,
Isis' waters back shall fly,
And leave theiro
 [...]zy channels dry:
Turn, ye waters. leave your shore,
Perjur'd CELIA loves no more.

CUPID, instruct an amorous swain,
Some way to tell the nymph his pain,
To common youths unknown;
To talk of sighs, and flames, and darts,
Of bleeding wounds, and burning hearts,
Are methods vulgar grown.

[Page 49]
What need'st thou tell? (the God reply'd)
That love the shepherd cannot hide,
The nymph will quickly find;
When Phoebus does his beams display,
To tell men gravely that 'tis day,
Is to suppose them blind.

LOVE's a dream of mighty treasure,
Which in fancy we possess;
In the folly lies the pleasure,
Wisdom always makes it less:

When we think by passion heated
We a Goddess have in cha
 [...],
Like Ixion we are cheated,
And a gaudy cloud embrace.

Happy only is the lover
Whom his mistress well deceives;
Seeking nothing to discover,
He contented lives at ease.

While the wretch who would be knowing
What the fair one would disguise,
Labours for his own undoing,
Changing happy to be wise.

TELI me no more I am deceiv'd;
That CHLOE's false and common;
I always knew (at 
 [...] believ'd)
She was a very 
 [...].
As such I lik'd, as such c
 [...]tei
 [...]d.
She still was constan
 [...] when posset
 [...]d,
She could do more for no men.

But oh! her though
 [...]s on others ran,
And that you think a hard thing?
Perhaps she fancied you the man;
And what care I one farthing?
You think she's l
 [...]lse, I'm sure she's n,
I tak her body, you her mind,
Who has the better bargain?

[Page 50]

MISTAKEN fair, lay Sherlock by,
His doctrine is deceiving,
For while ne teaches us to die,
He cheats us of our living.

To die's a lesson we shall know
Too soon without a master;
Then let us only study now
How we may live the faster.

To live's to love, to bless, be blest
With mutual inclination:
Share then my ardour in your breast,
And kindly meet my passion.

But if thus blest I may not live,
And pity you deny,
To me at least your Sherlock give,
'Tis I must learn to die.

CHLOE's the wonder of her sex,
'Tis well her heart is tender;
How might such killing yes perplex,
With virtue to defend her!

But nature graciously inclin'd
With liberal hand to please us,
Has to her boundless beauty join'd
A boundless bent to ease us.

WHEN ORPHEUS went down to the regions below
Which men are forbidden to sce;
He 
 [...]on'd up his lyre, as old histories show,
To set his EURYDICE free.

[Page 51]

All hell was astonish'd a person so wise

Should rashly endanger his life,

And venture so far; but how vast their surprize,

When they heard that he came for his wife!

To find out a punishment due for his fault
Old Pluto long puzzled his brain,
But hell had not torments sufficiert he thought,
So he gave him his wife back again.

But pity succeeding soon vanq
 [...]h'd his heart,
And pleas'd with his playing so well,
He took her again in reward of his art,
Such merit had music in hell.

VAIN are the charms of white and red,
Which paint the blooming fair;
Give me the nymph whose snow is spread
Not o'er her face, but hair:

Of smoother cheeks the winning grace
With open force defies;
But in the wrinkles of her face
Cupid in ambush lies.

If naked eyes set hearts on b'aze,
And amorous warmth inspire;
Thro' glass, who darts her pointed rays,
Lights up a fiercer fire.

Nor rivals, nor the train of years,
My peace or bliss destroy;
Alive, she gives no jealous fears,
And dead, she crowns my joy.

CHLOE brisk and gay appears,
On purpose to invite;
Yet, when I press her, she, in tears,
Denies hersole delight.

[Page 52]

Whilst CELIA, seeming shy and coy,

To all her favours grants:

And secretly receives that joy,

Which others think she wants.

I would, but fear I never shall,
With either fair agree;
For CELIA will be kiud to all,
But CHLOE won't to me.

OH! turn away those cruel eyes,
The stars of my undoing;
Or death in luch a bright disguise
May tempt a second wooing,

Punish their blindly impious pride
Who dare contemn thy glory;
It was my fall that deity'd
Thy name, and seal'd thy storv.

Yet no new fuff'rings can prepare
A higher praise to crown thee;
Tho' my first death proclaim thee fair,
My second will dethrone thee.

Lovers w
 [...] doubt thou canst entice
No other for thy fuel;
And if thou burn one 
 [...]ictim twice,
Think thee both poor and cruel.

IN vain, fond youth, thy tears give o'er;
What more, alas! can FLAVIA do?
Thy truth I own thy fate deplore:
All are not happy that are true.

Suppress those sighs, and weep no more;
Should heav'n and earth with thee combine,
'Twere all in vain; sunce any pow'r
To crown thy love, must alter mine.

[Page 53]

But, if revenge can ease thy pain,

I'll sooth the ills I cannot cure,

Tell that I drag a hopeless chain,

And all that I inflict, endure.

THE merchant to secure his treasure
Conveys it in a borrow'd name;
EUPHELIA serves to grace my measure,
But CHLOE is my real flame.

My softest verse, my darling lyre
Upon EUPHELIA's toilet lay,
When CHLOE' noted her desire
That I should sing, that I should play.

My lyre I tune, my voice I raise,
But with my numbers mix my sighs;
And whilst I sing EUPHELIA's praise,
I fix my soul on CHLOE's eyes.

Fair CHLOE blush'd; EUPHELIA frown'd;
I sung and gaz'd, I play'd and trembled;
And Venus to the loves around
Remark'd how ill we all dissembled.

CELIA hoard thy charms no more,
Beauty's like the miser's treasure;
Still the vain possessor's poor,
What are riches without pleasure?
Endless pains the miser takes
To increase his heaps of money,
Lab'ring bees his pattern makes
Yet he fears to taste his honey.

Views with aching eyes his store,
Trembling lest he chance to lose it,
Pi
 [...]ing still for want of more,
Tho' the wretch wants power to use it.

[Page 54] CELIA thus with endless arts
Spends her days, her charms improving,
Lab'
 [...]ing still to conquer hearts,
Yet ne'er tastes the sweets of loving.

Views with pride her shape and face,
Fancying still she's under twenty;
Age brings wrinkles on apace,
While she starves with all her plenty.
Soon or late they both will fiad
Time their idol from them fever,
He must leave his gold behind,
Lock'd within his grave for ever.

CELIA's fate will still be worse,
When her fading charms deceive her,
Vain desire will be her curse
When no mortal will relieve her.
CELIA hoard thy charms no more,
Beauty's like the miser's treasure,
Taste a little of thy store;
What is beauty without pleasure?

As the snow in vallies lying,
Phoebus his warm beams applying,
Soon dissolves and runs away;
So the beauties, so the graces
Of the most bewitching face
 [...]
At approaching age decay,

As a tyrant when degraded,
Is despis'd and is upbraided
By the slaves he once controul'd;
So the nymph
 [...] if none could move her,
Is contemn'd by ev'ry lover
When her charms are growing old.

Melancholic looks and whining,
Grieving, quarreling and pining
Are th' effects your rigours move;
Sost caresses, amorous glances,
Melting sighs, transporting trances,
Are the blest effects of love.

[Page 55]
Fair ones, while your beauty's blooming
Use your time, lest age resuming
What your youth profusely lends,
You are robb'd of all your glories,
And condemn'd to tell old stories
To your unbelieving friends.

CELIA, too late you would repent:
The off'ring all your store
Is now but like a pardon sent
To one that's dead before.

While at the first you cruel prov'd,
And grant the bliss too late,
You hinder'd me of one I lov'd
To give me one I hate.

I thought you innocent as fair
When first my court I made,
But when your falsehoods plain appear
My love no longer stay'd.

Your bounty of those favours shown
Whose worth you first deface,
Is melting valued medals down,
And giving us the brass.

Oh! since the thing we beg's a toy,
By lovers priz'd alone,
Why cannot women grant the joy
Before our love is gone?

IF the quick spirit of your eye,
Now languish, and anon must die;
If every sweet and every grace
Must fly from that forsaken face;
Then CELIA, let us reap our joys.
Ere time such goodly fruit destroys.

[Page 56] Or if that golden fleece must grow
For ever free from aged snow;
If those bright tens must know no shade,
Nor your fresh beauty ever fade;
Then, CELIA, fear not to bestow
What still being gather'd, still must grow.

Thus either time his sickle brings

In vain, or else in vain his wings.

LATE when love I seem'd to slight
PHYLLIS smil'd as well she might;
Now, said she, our throne may tremble,
Men our province now invade,
Men take up our royal trade,
Men, ev'n men, do now dissemble,
In the dust our empire's laid.

Tutor'd by the wise and grave,
Loath I was to be a slave;
Mistress sounded arbitrary;
So I chose to hide my flame
Friendship, a discreeter name;
But she scorns one jot to vary,
She will love, or nothing, claim.

Be a lover or pretend,
Rather than the warmest friend;
Friendship of another kind is,
Swedish coin of gross allay,
A cart-load will scarce defray;
Love, one grain is worth the Indies,
Only love is current pay.

AH! CHLORIS, could I now but sit
As unconcern'd as when
Your infant beauty could beget
No happiness nor pain!

[Page 57] When I this dawning did admire,
And prais'd the coming day,
I little thought that rising fire
Would ta
 [...]e my rest away.

Your charms in harmless childhood lay
As metals in a mine;
Age from no face takes more away
Than youth conceal'd in thine:
But as your charms insensibly
To their perfection prest,
So love, as unperceiv
 [...]d, did fly,
And center'd, in my breast.

My passion with your beauty grew,
While Curid, a
 [...] my heart,
Still as his mother favour'd you,
Threw a new flaming dart:
Each gloried in their wanton part;
To make a beauty, she
Employ'd the utmost of her art:
To make a lover, 
 [...]e.

THE Graces and the wand'ring Loves
Are fled to distant plaine
To chase the fawns, or in deep groves
To wound admiring swains.
With their bright mistress there they ftray,
Who turns her careless eyes
From daily trumphs; yet, each day,
Beholds new triumphs in her way,
And conquers while she flies.

But see! i
 [...]plor'd by moving prayers,
To change the lover's pain,
Venus her harness'd doves prepares,
And brings the fair again.
Proud mortals, who this maid pursue,
Think you, she'll ere resign?
Cea
 [...], 
 [...]ols, your wis;hes to renew,
Till she grows flesh and blood, like you;
Or you, like her, divine.

[Page 58]

SAY, lovely dream, where could'st thou find
Shadows to counterfeit that face?
Colours of this glorious kind,
Come not from any mortal place.

In heaven itself thou sure wert drest
With that angel-like disguise;
Thus deluded am I blest,
And see my my joys with closed eyes,

But ah! this image is too kind
To be other than a dream!
Cruel SAC
 [...]ARISSA's mind
Never put on that sweet extreme.

Fair dream, if thou intend'st me grace,
Change that heavenly face of thine;
Paint despis'd love in thy face,
And make it to appear like mine.

Pale, wan, and meagre let it look,
With a pity-moving shape,
Such as wander by the brook
Of LETHE; or from graves escape.

Then to that matchless nymph appear,
In whose shape thou shinest so,
Softly in her sleeping ear,
With humble words express my wo.

Perhaps from greatnefs, state, and pride,
Thus surprised she may fall;
Sleep doe disproportion hide,
And death resembling equals all.

COME little infant love me now,
While thine unsuspected years
Clear thine aged father's brow
From cold jealousy and fears.

[Page 59]

Pretty surely 'twere to see

By young love old time beguil'd,

While our sportings are as free

As the nurse's with the child.

Common beauties stay fifteen,
Such as yours should swifter move,
Whose fair blossoms are too green
Yet for lust, but not for love.

Love as much the snowy lamb,
Or the wanton kid does prize,
As the lusty bull or ram,
For his morning sacrifice.

Now then love me, time may take
Thee before thy time away;
Of this need we'll virtue make,
And learn love before we may.

So we win of doubtful fate;
And if good to us she meant,
We that good should antedate.
Or if ill, that ill prevent.

Thus as kingdoms frustrating
Other titles to their crown,
In the cradle crown their king,
So all foreign claims to drown.

So to make all rivals vain
Now I crown thee with my love,
Crown me with thy love again,
And we both shall monarchs prove.

A SICH.

GENTLE air, thou breath of lovers,
Vapour from a secret fire,
Which by thee itself discovers,
Ere yet daring to aspire.

[Page 60]

Softest note of whisper'd anguish,

Harmony's refined part,

Striking, while thou seem'st to languish,

Full upon the list'ners heart.

Safest messenger of passion,
Stealing thro' a cloud of spies,
Which constrain the out ward fashion,
Close the lips, and guard the eyes.

Shapeless sigh we ne'er can show thee,
Form'd but to assault the ear;
Yet ere to their cost they know thee,
Every nymph may read thee here.

SHE loves, and she confesses too;
Then there's at last no more to do;
The happy work's entirely done,
Enter the town which thou hast won.
The fruits of conquest now begin.

Io triumphe, enter in.

What's this, ye gods, what can it be?
Remains there still an enemy?
Bold honour stands up in the gate
And would yet capitulate.
Have I o'ercome all teal foes,
And shall this phantom me oppose?

Noisy nothing, stalking shade,
By what witcheraft wert thou made?
Empty cause of solid harms!
But I shall find out counter charms,
Thy airy devilship to remove
From this circle here of love.

Sure I shall rid myself of thee
By the night's obscurity,
And obscurer secr
 [...]cy.
Unlike to every other spright,
Thou attempt'st not men t'affright,
Nor appear'st, but in the light.

[Page 61]

'TIS now since I sat down before
That foolish fort, a heart,
(Time strangely spent) a year and more,
And still I did my part.

Made my approaches, from her hand
Unto her lip did rise.
And did already understand
The language of her eyes.

Proceeded on with no less art,
My tongue was engineer;
I thought to undermine the heart
By whispering in the ear.

When this did nothing, I brought down
Great cannon oaths, and shot
A thousand thousand to the town,
And still it yielded not.

I then resolv'd to starve the place
By cutting off all kisses,
Praising and gazing on her face,
And all such little blisses.

To draw her out and from her strength,
I drew all batteries in;
And brought myself to lie at length,
As if no siege had been.

When I had done what man could do,
And thought the place my own,
The enemy lay quiet too,
And smiled at all was done.

I sent to know from whence and where,
These hopes, and this relief;
A spy inform'd, Honour was there,
And did command in chief.

March, march, (quoth I) the word straight give,
Let's lose no time, but leave her;
That giant upon air will live,
And hold it out forever.

[Page 62]

To such a place our camp remove

As will no siege abide:

I hate a fool that starves her love

Only to feed her pride.

PURSUING beauty, men descry
The distant shore, and long to prove
(Still richer in variety)
The treasures of the land of love,

We women like weak Indians stand,
Inviting from our golden coast
The wand'ring rovers to our land;
But she who trades with them is lost.

With humble vows they first begin,
Stealing unseen into the heart;
But by possession settled in,
They quickly act another part.

For beads and baubles we resign
In ignorance our shining store;
Discover nature's richest mine,
And yet the tyrants will have more,

Be wise, be wise, and do not try
How he can court, or you be won;
For love is but discovery;
When that in made, the pleasure's done.

STELLA and FLAVIA every hour
Do various hearts surprize;
In STELLA's soul is all her power,
And FLAVIA's in her eyes.
More boundless FLAVIA's conquests are,
And STELLA's more confin'd;
All can discern a face that's fair,
But few a heavenly mind.

[Page 63]
STELLA, like Britain's monarch, reigns
O'er cultivated lands;
Like eastern tyrants FLAVIA deigns
To rule o'er barren sands.
Then boast, fair FLAVIA, boast thy face,
Thy beauty's only store,
Each day that makes thy charms decrease
Will yield to STELLA more.

WHEN gentle CELIA first I knew,
A breast so good, so kind, so true,
Reason and taste approv'd;
Pleas'd to indulge so pure a flame,
I call'd it by too soft a name,
And fondly thought I lov'd.

Till CHLORIS came, with sad surprize
I felt the lightning of her eyes
Thro' all my senses run;
All glowing with resistless charms,
She fill'd my breast with new alarms,
I saw, and was undone.

O CELIA! dear unhappy maid,
Fo
 [...]bear the weakness to upbraid

 [...]hich ought your scorn to move:
I know this beauty false and vain,
I know she triumphs in my pain,
Yet still I feel I love.

Thy gentle smiles no more can please,
Nor can thy softest fri
 [...]ndship ease
The torments I endure;
Think what that wounded breast must feel
Which truth and kindness cannot heal,
Nor even thy pity cure.

Oft shall I curse my iron chain,
And wish again thy milder reign

[Page 64] With long and vain regret;
All that I can, to thee I give,
And could I still to reason live
I were thy captive yet.

But passion's wild impetuous sea
Hurries me far from peace and thee,
'Twere vain to struggle more:
Thus the poor sailor slumbering lies,
While swelling tides around him rise,
And push his bark from shore.

In 
 [...]ain he spreads his helpless arms,
His pitying friends with fond alarms
In vain deplore his state;
Still far and farther from the coast,
On the high surge his bark is tost,
And foundering yields to fate.

WHEN first upon your tender cheek
I saw the morn of beauty break
With mud and chearing beam,
I how'd boore your infant shrine,
The earliest sighs you had were mine,
And you my darling theme.

I saw you in that opening morn
For beauty
 [...] boundless empire born,
And first confess'd your sway;
And ere your thoug
 [...]ts, devoid of art,
Could learn the value of a heart,
I gave my heart away.

I watch the dawn, of every grace,
And gaz'd upon that angel face,
Whale yet 'twas sale to gaze;
And fondly blest each rising charm,
Nor thought such innocence could harm
The peace of future days.

But now despotic o'er the plains
The awful noon of beauty reigns,

[Page 65] And kneeling crowds adore;
These charms arise too siercely bright,
Danger and death attend the sight,
And I must hope no more.

Thus to the rising God of day
Their early vows the Persians pay,
And bless the spreading fire;
Whose glowing chariot mounting soon
Pours on their heads the burning noon,
They sicken and expire.

As ARIANA young and fair
By night the stary choir did tell,
She found in CASSIOPEIA's chair
One beauteous light the rest excel:
This happy star unseen before,
Perhaps was kindled from her eyes,
And made for mortals to adore
A new-born glory in the skies.

Or if within the sphere it grew,
Before she gaz'd the lamp was dim;
But from her eyes the sparkles slew
That gave new lustre to the gem:
Bright omen! what dost thou portend,
Thou threat'ning beauty of the sky;
What great, what happy monarch's end?
For sure by thee 'tis sweet to die.

Whether to thy foreboding fire
We owe the crescent in decay;
Or must the mighty Gaul expire,
A victim to thy fatal ray?
Such a presage will late be shewn
Before the world in ashes lies;
But if less ruin will atone,
Let STREPRON's only fate suffice.

[Page 66]

WHEN first I saw LUCINDA's face
And view'd the dazzling glories there,
She seem'd of a diviner race,
Than that which nature planted here.

With sacred homage down I fell,
Wond'ring whence such a form could spring;
Tell me, I cry'd, fair vision, tell
The dread commands from heaven you bring.

For if past sins may be forgiven.
By this bright evidence I know
The careful Gods have made a heaven,
That made such angels for it too.

CHLORIS, yourself you so excel,
When you vouchsafe to breathe my thought,
That like a spirit, with this spell
Of my own teaching, I am caught.

The eagle's fate and mine are one,
Which on the shaft that made him die
Espy'd a feather of his own,
Wherewith he used to soar so high.

Had Echo with so sweet a grace
Narcissus' loud complaints return'd,
Not for reflection of his face,
But of his voice, the boy had burn'd.

STREPHON has fashion, wit and youth,
With all things else that please:
He nothing wants but love and truth
To ruin me with ease:

[Page 67] But he is flint, and bears the art
To kindle strong defire;
His pow'r inflames another's heart,
Yet he ne'er feels the fire.

O! how it does my foul perplex,
When I his charms 
 [...]ecall,
To think he should despise the sex,
Or worse, should love'em all.
My wearied heart, like Noah's dove,
Thus seeks in vain for rest;
Finding no hope to fix its love,
Returns into my breast.

AT CYNTHIA's seet I sigh'd, I pray'd,
And wept; yet all the while
The cruel unrelenting maid
Scarcely paid me with a smile.

Such foolish timotous arts as these
Wanted the power to charm;
They were too innocent to please,
They were too cold to warm.

Resolv'd, I rose, and softly prest
The lilies of her neck;
With longing eager lips I kist
The roses of her cheek.

Charm'd with this boldness, she relents,
And burns with equal fire;
To all my wishes she consents,
And crowns my fierce desire.

With heat like this PYGMALION mov'd
His statue's icy charms;
Thus warm'd the marble virgin lov'd,
And melted in his arms.

[Page 68]

WINE, wine in the morning
Makes us frolic and gay,
That like eagles we soar
In the pride of the day;
Gouty sots of the night
Only find a decay.

'Tis the sun ripes the grape,
And to drinking gives light;
We imitate him
When by noon we're at height;
They steal wine who take it
When he's out of sight.

Boy fill all the glasses,
Fill them up now he shines;
The higher he rises
The more he refines,
For wine and wit fall
As their maker declines.

IN vain, dear CHLOE, you suggest
That I inconstant have possest
Or lov'd a fairer she;
Would you with ease at once be cur'd
Of all the ills you've long endur'd,
Consult your glass and me.

If then you think that I can find
A nymph more fair or one more kind,
You've reason for your fears;
But if impartial you will prove
To your own beauty or my love
How needless are your tears!

If in my way I should by chance
Receive or give a wanton glance,

[Page 69] I like but while I view;
How slight the glance, how faint the kiss,
Compar'd to that substantial bliss,
Which I receive from you!

With wanton flight the curious bee
From flower to flower still wanders free;
And where each blossom blows,
Extracts the juice from all he meets,
But, for his quintessence of sweets,
He ravishes the rose.

So my fond fancy to employ
On each variety of joy,
From nymph to nymph I roam;
Perhaps see fisty in a day,
These are but visits that I pay,
For CHLOE is my home.

SHOULD some perverse malignant star
(As envious stars will sometimes shine)
Throw me from my FLORELLA far,
Let not my lovely fair repine
If in her absence I should gaze
With pleasure on another's face.

The wearied pilgrim, when the sun
Has ended his diurnal race,
With pleasure sees the friendly moon
By borrow'd light, supply his place:
Not that he slights the God of day,
But loves ev'n his reflected 
 [...]ay.

WHY will FLORELLA while I gaze,
My ravish'd eyes reprove,
And chide them from the only face
They can behold with love?

[Page 70]

To shun your scorn, and ease my care,

I seek a nymph more kind,

And while I rove from fair to fair

Still gentle usage find,

But oh! how faint is every joy
Where nature has no part:
New beauties may my eyes employ,
But you engage my heart.

So restless exiles doom'd to roam
Meet pity every where;
Yet languish for their native home.
Tho' death attends them there

[Page]

BALLADS AND PASTORAL SONGS.

IT was a friar of orders gray,
Walk'd forth to tell his beads;
And he met with a lady fair,
Clad in a pilgrim's weeds.

Now Christ thee save, thou reverend friar,
I pray thee tell to me,
If ever at yon holy shrine
My true love thou did'st see.

And how should I know your true love
From many another one?
O by his cockle hat and staff,
And by his sandal shoon.

But chiesly by his face and mien,
That were so fair to view;
His flaxen locks that sweetly curl'd,
And eyne of lovely blue.

O lady he's dead and gone!
Lady he's dead and gone!
And at his head a green grass urf,
And at his heels a stone.

Within these holy cloysters long
He languisn'd, and he d
 [...]ed,
Lamenting of a lady's love
And plaining of her pride.

[Page 72]

Here bore him barefac'd on his bier

Six proper youths and tall,

And many a tear bedew'd his grave

Within yon kirk-yard wall.

And art thou dead, thou gentle youth!
And art thou dead and gone!
And did'st thou die for love of me!
Break, cruel heart of stone!

O weep not, lady, weep not so;
Some ghostly comfort seek:
Let not vain sorrow rive thy heart,
Nor tears bedew thy cheek.

O do not, do not, holy friar,
My sorrow now reprove:
For I have lost the sweetest youth,
That e'er won Lady's love.

And now, alas! for thy sad loss
I'll evermore weep and sigh;
For thee I only wish'd to live,
For thee I wish to die.

Weep no more, lady, weep no more,
Thy sorrow is in vain:
For, violets pluck'd, the sweetest showers,
Will ne'er make grow again.

Our joys as winged dreams do fly,
Why then should sorrow last?
Since grief but aggravates thy loss,
Grieve not for what is past.

O say not so, thou holy friar;
I pray thee, say not so:
For since my true-love died for me,
'Tis meet my tears should flow.

And will he ne'er come again?
Will he ne'er come again?
Ah! no, he is dead and laid in his grave,
Forever to remain.

[Page 73]

Mis cheek was redder than the rose,

The com'liest youth was he:—

But he is dead and laid in his grave:

Alas! and wo is me!

Sigh no more, lady, sigh no more,
Men were deceivers ever:
One foot on sea and one on land,
To one thing constant never.

Had'st thou been fond, he had been false,
And left thee sad and heavy:
For young men ever were sickle found,
Since summer trees were leafy.

Now say not so thou holy friar,
I pray thee say not so;
My love he had 
 [...]he truest hea
 [...]t:
O he was ever true!

And art thou dead, thou much-lov'd youth,
And didst thou die for me?
Then farewell home; for, ever more
A pilgrim I will be.

But first upon my true-love's grave
My weary limbs I'll lay,
And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf,
That wraps his breathless clay.

Yet stay fair lady; rest awhile
Beneath this cloyster wall:
See through the hawthorn blows the cold wind,
And drizzly rain doth fall.

O stay me not thou holy friar;
O stay me not I pray;
No drizzly rain that falls on me,
Can wash my fault away.

Yet stay, fair lady, turn again,
And dry those pearly tears;
For see beneath this gown of gray
Thy own true-love appears.

[Page 74]

Here forc'd by grief, and hopeless love

These holy weeds I sought:

And here amid these lonely walls

To end my days I thought.

But haply for my year of grace
Is not yet pass'd away,
Might I still hope to win thy love,
No longer would I stay.

Now farewell grief, and welcome joy
Once more unto my heart:
For since I have found thee, lovely youth,
We never more will part.

TURN, gentle hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way,
To where yon taper cheers the vale,
With hospitable ray.

For here forlorn and lost I tread,
With fainting steps and slow;
Where wilds, immeasurably spread.
Seem lengthening as I go.

Forbear, my son, the hermit cries,
To tempt the dangerous gloom:
For yonder phantom only flies
To lure thee to thy doom.

Here to the houseless child of want,
My door is open still;
And tho' my portion is but scant,
I give it with good will.

Then turn to-night, and freely share
Whate'er my cell bestows;
My rushy couch, and frugal fare,
My blessing and repose.

No flocks that range the valley free,
To slaughter I condemn:
Taught by that power that pities me,
I learn to pity them.

[Page 75]

But from the mountain's grassy side,

A guil [...]ess feast I bring;

A serip with herbs and fruits supply'd,

And water from the spring.

Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;
For earth-born cares are wrong:
Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.

Soft as the dew from heav'n descends,
His gentle accents fell:
The modest stranger lowly bends,
And follows to the cell.

Far in a wilderness obscure
The lonely mansion lay;
A refuge to the neighb'ring poor,
And stranger led astray.

No stores beneath its humble thatch
Requir'd a master's care;
The wicket opening with a latch,
Receiv'd the harmless pair.

And now when busy crowds retire
To revels or to rest,
The hermit trimm'd his little fire,
And cheer'd his pensive guest:

And spread his vegetable store,
And gaily prest and smil'd;
And skill'd in legendary lore,
The ling'ring hours beguil'd.

Around in sympathetic mirth
Its tricks the kitten tries;
The cricket chirrups on the hearth;
The crackling faggot flies.

But nothing could a charm impart
To sooth the stranger's wo;
For grief was heavy at his heart,
And tears began to flow.

[Page 76]

His rising cares the hermit 'spy'd,

With answ'ring cares opprest:

And whence, unhappy youth, he cry'd,

The sorrows of thy breast?

From better habitations spurn'd,
Reluctant dost thou rove;
Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd,
Or unregarded love?

Alas! the joys that fortune brings,
Are trifling and decay;
And those that prize the paltry things,
More trifling still than they.

And what is friendship but a name,
A charm that lulls to sleep;
A shade that follows wealth or fame,
But leaves the wretch to weep?

And love is still an emptier sound,
The modern fair one's jest:
On earth unseen, or only found
To warm the turtle's nest.

For shame, fond vouth; thy sorrows hush,
And spurn the sex, he said:
But while he spoke, a rising blush
His love-lorn guest betray'd.

Surpriz'd! he sees new beauties rise,
Swift mantling to the view;
Like colours o'er the morning skies,
As bright, as transient too.

The bashful look, the rising breast,
Alternate spread alarms:
The lovely stranger stands confest
A maid in all her charms.

And, ah, forgive a stranger rude,
A wretch forlorn she cry'd;
Whose feet unhallowed thus intrude
Where heav'n and you reside.

[Page 77]

But let a maid thy pity share,

Whom love has taught to stray;

Who seeks for rest, but finds despair

Companion of her way.

My father liv'd beside the Tyne.
A wealthy lord was he;
And all his wealth was mark'd for mine,
He had but only me.

To win me from his tender arms
Unnumber'd suitors came;
Who prais'd me for imputed charms,
And felt or feign'd a flame.

Each hour the mercenary crowd,
With richest presents strove:
Among the rest young EDWIN bow'd,
But never talk'd of love.

In humble simplest habit clad,
No wealth nor pow'r had he;
Wisdom and worth were all he had,
But these were all to me.

The blossom opening to the day.
The dews of heav'n refin'd,
Could nought of purity display,
To emulate his mind.

The dew, the blossom on the tree,
With charms inconstant shine;
Their charms were his, but wo is me,
Their constancy was mine.

For still I try'd each fickle art,
Importunate and vain;
And while his passion touch'd my heart,
I triumph'd in his pain.

Till quite dejected with my scorn,
He left me to my pride:
And sought a solitude forlorn,
In secret where he died.

[Page 78]

But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,

And well my life shall pay;

I'll seek the solitude he sought,

And stretch me where he lay.

And there forlorn, despairing, hid,
I'll lay me down and die;
'Twas so for me that EDWIN did,
And so for him will I.

Forbid it heav'n! the hermit cry'd,
And clasp'd her to his breast:
The wond'ring fair one turn'd to chide,
'Twas EDWIN's self that prest.

Turn, ANGELINA, ever dear,
My charmer, turn to see,
Thy own, thy long-lost EDWIN here,
Restor'd to love and thee.

Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
And ev'ry care resign:
And shall we never, never part,
My life—my all that's mine?

No, never from this hour to part,
We'll live and love so true;
The sigh that rends thy constant heart,
Shall break thy EDWIN's too.

OF Leinster sam'd for maidens fair,
Bright LUCY was the grace;
Nor e'er did Lisfy's limpid stream
Reflect a fairer face.

'Till luckless love and pining care
Impaired her rosy hue,
Her coral lips, her damask cheeks,
And eyes of glossy blue.

Oh! have you seen the lily pale
When beating rains descend?
So droop'd this slow-consuming maid,
Her life now near its end.

[Page 79]

By LUCY warn'd, of slatt'ring swains

Take heed, ye easy fair!

Of vengeance due to broken vows,

Ye perjur'd swains, beware!

Three times all in the dead of night,
A bell was heard to ring;
And shricking at her window thrice,
The raven flapp'd her wing.

Too well the love-lorn maiden knew
The solemn-boding sound,
And thus in dying words bespoke
The maidens weeping round.

I hear a voice you cannot hear,
Which says I must not stay;
I see a hand you cannot see,
Which beckons me away.

By a false heart, and broken vows,
In early youth I die:
Was I to 
 [...]me, because the bride
Is twice as rich as I?

Ah, COLIN, give not her thy vows,
Vows due to me alone!
Nor thou, fond maid, receive his kiss,
And think him all my own!

To-morrow in the church to wed
Impatient both prepare:
But know, fond maid, and know, false man,
That LUCY will be there.

Then bear my corse, ye comrades dear,
The bridegroom 
 [...]the to meet;
He in his wedding-trim so gay,
I in my winding sheet!

She spoke and die'd, her corse was borne,
The bridegroom 
 [...]he to meet;
He in his wedding-trim so gay,

 [...] ruber winding sheet.

[Page 80]

Oh! what were perjur'd COLIN's thoughts!

How were those nuptials kept?

The bride-men flocked round LUCY dead,

And all the village wept.

Compassion, shame, remorse, despair,
At once his bosom swell:
The damps of death bedew'd his brows,
He shook, he groan'd, he fell.

From the vain bride, a bride no more,
The varying crimson fled;
When, stretch'd beside her rival's corse,
She saw her husband dead.

He to his LUCY's new-made grave,
Convey'd by trembling swains,
One mold with her, beneath one sod,
For ever now remains.

Oft at this place the constant hind
And pligh
 [...]ed maid are seen:
With garlands gay, and true-love knots
They deck the sacred green.

But, swain forsworn, whoe'er thou art,
This hallow'd spot forbear!
Remember COLIN's dreadful fate,
And fear to meet him there.

WHEN all was wrapt in dark midnight
And all were fast asleep,
In glided MARGARET's grimly ghost
And stood at WILLIAM's feet.

Her face was like an April morn
Clad in a wintry cloud,
And cold-clay was her lily hand
That held her sable shroud.

[Page 81]

So shall the fairest face appear

When youth and years are flown;

Such is the robe that kings must wear

When death has reft their crown.

Her bloom was like the springing flower
That sips the s
 [...]ver dew;
The rose was budded in her cheek,
Just opening to the view.

But love had like the canker worm,
Consum'd her early prime;
The rose grew pale and left her cheek,
S
 [...]e died before her time.

Awake, she cried, thy true-love calls,
Come from her midnight grave;
Now let thy pity hear the maid
Thy love refused to save.

This is the mirk and fearsul hour
When injur'd ghosts complain!
Now dreary graves give up their dead
To haunt the faithless swain.

Bethink thee, WILLIAM, of thy fault,
Thy pledge, and broken oath;
And give me back my maiden vow,
And give me back my troth.

How could you say my face was fair,
And yet that face forsake?
How could you win my virgin heart,
Y
 [...]t leave that heart to break?

How could you promise love to me,
And not that promise keep?
Why did you swear mine eyes were bright,
Yet leave those eyes to weep?

How could you say my lips we
 [...]e sweet,
And made the sea
 [...]iet pale?
And why did I, young witless maid,
Believe the flatt'ring tale?

[Page 82]

That face, alas! no more is fair,

Those lips no longer red;

Dark are mine eyes now clos'd in death,

And ev'ry charm is fled.

The hungry worm my sister is,
This winding sh
 [...]et I wear,
And cold and weary lasts our night
Till that last morn appear.

But hark! the cock has warn'd me hence,
A long and last adieu!
Come see, false man, how low she lies
That died for love of you.

Now birds did sing and morning smile

 [...]nd shew her glist'ring head;
Pale WILLIAM shook in ev'ry limb,
And raving left his bed.

He hied him to the fatal place
Where MARG'RET's body lay,
And stretch'd him on the green grass turf
That wrap'd her breathless clay.

And thrice he call'd on MARGRET's name,
And thrice he wept full sore;
Then laid his c
 [...]eek to the cold earth,
And word spake never more.

'TWAS when the seas were roaring
With hollow blasts of wind,
A damsel lay deploring,
All on a rock reclin'd:
Wide o'er the foaming billows
She cast a wishful look,
Her head was crown'd with willows
That trembled o'er the brook.

[Page 83]
Twelve months are gone and over
And nine long tedious days;
Why didst thou, vent'rous lover,
Why didst thou trust the seas?
Cease, cease, thou cruel ocean
And let a lover rest;
Ah I what's thy troubled motion
To that within my breast?

The merchant robb'd of treasure
Views tempests in despair;
But what's the loss of treasure
To the losing of my dear?
Should you some coast be laid on
Where gold and diamonds grow,
You'll find a richer maiden,
But none that loves you so.

How can they say that Nature
Has nothing made in vain;
Why then beneath the water
Do hideous rocks remain?
No eyes th
 [...]se rocks dis
 [...]over,
That 
 [...] beneath the deep,
To wreck the wand'ring lover
And leave the maid to weep.

All melancholy lying
Thus wail'd she for her dear,
Repaid each blast with sighing,
Each billow with a tear;
When o'er the white waves stooping,
His floating corps she 'spied;
Then like a lily drooping
She bow'd her head and died.

ALL in the Downs the fleet was moor'd
The streamers waving in the wind,
When black-ey'd SUSAN came on board,
O where shall I my true-love find?
Tell me, ye jovial sailors, tell me true
If my sweet WILLIAM sails among your crew?

[Page 84]
WILLIAM, who high upon the yard
Rock'd by the billows to and fro,
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,
He sigh'd and cast his eyes below;
The cord glides swiftly thro' his glowing hands,
And quick as lightning on the deck he stands.

So the sweet lark high pois'd in air
Shuts close his pinions to his breast,
If chance his mate's shrill call he hear,
And drops at once into her nest.
The noblest captain in the British fleet
Might envy WILLIAM's lips those kisses sweet:

O SUSAN, SUSAN, lovely dear,
My vows shall ever true remain;
Let me kiss off that falling tear,
We only part to meet again.
Change as yelist ye winds, my heart shall be
The faithful compass that still points to thee.

Believe not what the landmen say,
Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind,
They'll tell thee, sailors when away
At ev'ry port a mistress find.
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so,
For thou art present whereso'er I go.

If to fair India's coast we sail,
Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright,
Thy breath is Afric's spicy gale,
Thy skin is ivory so white!
Thus ev'ry beauteous object that I view,
Wakes in my foul some charm of lovely SUI.

Tho' battle calls me from thy arms,
Let not my pretty SUSAN mourn;
Tho' cannons roar, yet free from harms
WILLIAM shall to his dear return:
Love turns aside the balls that round me fly,
Lest precious tears should drop from SUSAN's eye.

[Page 85]
The boatswain gives the dreadful word,
The sails their swelling bosoms spread;
No longer must she stay on board,
They kiss'd; she sigh'd; he hung his head:
Her less'ning boat unwilling rows to land;
Adieu she cries, and wav'd her lily hand.

DAPHNIS stood pensive in the shade,
With arms across, and head reclin'd;
Pale looks accus d the cruel maid,

 [...]nd sighs reliev'd his love-sick mind:
His tuneful pipe all broken lay,
Looks, sighs and actions seem'd to say,
My CHLOE is unkind.

Why ring the woods with warbling throats?
Ye larks, ye linnets, cease your strains;
I faintly hear in your sweet notes,
My CHLOE's voice that wakes my pains:
Yet why should you your song for bear?
Your mates delight your song to hear,
But CHLOE mine disdains.

As thus he melancholy stood,
Dejected as the lonely dove,
Sweet sounds broke gently through the wood,
I feel the sound; my heart strings move:
'Twas not the nightingale that sung;
No, 'tis my CHLOE's sweeter tongue,
Hark, hark, what says my love!

How foolish is the nymph, she cries,
Who trifles with her lover's pain!
Nature still speaks in woman's eyes,
Our artfullips were made to feign.
O DAPHNIS, DAPHNIS, 'twas my pride,
'Twas not my heart thy love deny'd,
Come back, dear youth, again.

[Page 86]
As t'other day my hand he seiz'd,
My blood with thrilling motion slew;
Sudden I put on looks displeas'd,
And hasty from his hold withdrew.
'Twas fear alone, thou simple swain,
Then hadst thou prest my hand again,
My heart had yielded too!

'Tis true, thy tuneful reed I blam'd,
That swell'd thy lip and rosy cheek;
Think not thy skill in song defam'd,
That lip should other pleasures seek:
Much, much thy music I approve;
Yet break thy pipe, for more I love,
Much more to hear thee speak.

My heart forebodes that I'm betray'd,
DAPHNIS I fear is ever gone;
Last night with DELIA's dog he play'd,
Love by such trifles first comes on.
Now, now, dear shepherd, come away,
My tongue would now my heart obey,
Ah CHLOE, thou art won!

The youth stepp'd forth with hasty pace,
And found where wishing CHLOE lay;
Shame sudden lighten'd in her face,
Confus'd, she knew not what to say.
At last in broken words, she cry'd,
To-morrow you in vain had try'd,
But I am lost to-day!

DESPAIRING beside a clear stream,
A shepherd forsaken was laid,
And whilst a false nymph was his theme,
A willow supported his head;
The 
 [...]ind that blew over the plain
To his sighs with a sigh did reply,
And the brook in return to his pain
Ran mournfully murmuring by,

[Page 87]
Alas! silly swain that I was!
Thus sadly complaining he cried;
When first I beheld that fair face,
'Twere better by far I had died.
She talk'd, and I blest the dear tongue,
When she smil'd 'twas a pleasure too great;
I listen'd, and cried when she sung,
Was nightingale ever so sweet.

How foolish was I to believe
She would doat on so lowly a clown,
Or that her sond heart would not grieve
To forsake the fine folks of the town;
To think that a beauty so gay,
So kind and so constant would prove,
To go clad like our maidens in grey,
And live in a cottage on love.

What though I have skill to complain,
Tho' the Muses my temples have crown'd?
What tho' when they hear my soft strain,
The virgins sit weeping around?
Ah COLIN thy hopes are in vain,
Thy pipe and thy laurel resign,
Thy fair one inclines to a swain
Whose music is sweeter than thine.

And you my companions so dear,
Who sorrow to see me betray'd,
Whatever I suffer, forbear,
Forbear to accuse the false maid;
Tho' thro' the wide world we should range,
'Tis in vain from our fortune to fly;
'Twas hers to be false, and to change,
'Tis mine to be constant, and die.

If while my hard fate I sustain,
In her breast any pity is found,
Let her come with the nymphs of the plain,
And see me laid low in the ground:
The last humble boon that I crave,
Is to shade me with cypress and yew,
And when she looks down on my grave,
Let her own that her shepherd was true.

[Page 88]
Then to her new love let her go,
And deck her in golden array,
Be finest at ev'ry fine shew,
And frolic it all the long day:
While COLIN forgotten and gone,
No more shall be heard of or seen,
Unless when beneath the pale moon
His ghost shall glide over the green.

AS on a summer's day,
In the greenwood shade I lay,
The maid that I lov'd,
As her fancy mov'd,
Came walking forth that way.

And as she passed by,
With a scornful glance of her eye,
What a shame, quoth she,
For a swain must it be,
Like a lazy loon for to lie?

And dost thou nothing heed
What Pan our God has decreed
What a prize to-day
Shall be given away,
To the sweetest shepherd's reed

There's not a single swain,
Of all this frui
 [...]ful plain,
But with hopes and fears,
Now busily prepares
The bonny boon to gain.

Shall another maiden shine
In brighter array than thine
Up, up, dull swain,
Tune thy pipe once again
And make the garland mine.

[Page 89]
Alas! my love, I cry'd,
What avails this courtly pride?
Since thy dear desert
Is written in my heart,
What is all the world beside?

To me thou art more gay
In this homely russet gray,
Than the nymphs of our green,
So trim and so sheen.
Or the brightest queen of May.

What tho' my fortune frown,
And deny thee a silken gown;
My own dear maid,
Be content with this shade
And a shepherd all thy own.

ALEXIS shun'd his fellow swains,
Their rural sports and jocund strains;
Heav'n shield us all from Cupid's bow!
He lost his crook, he left his flocks
And wand'ring thro' the lonely rocks,
He nourshi'd endless wo.

The nymphs and shepherds round him came,
His grief some pity, others blame,
The fatal cause all kindly seek;
He mingled his concern with theirs,
He gave them back their friendly tears,
He sigh'd, but could not speak.

CLORINDA came among the rest,
And she too kind concern exprest,
And ask'd the reason of his wo;
She ask'd, but with an air and mien
That made it easily foreseen
She fear'd too much to know.

The shepherd rais'd his mournful head,
And will you perdon me, he said,

[Page 90] While I the cruel truth reveal?
Which nothing from my breast should tear,
Which never should offend your ear,
But that you bid me tell.

'Tis thus I rove, 'tis thus complain,
Since you appear'd upon the plain,
You are the cause of all my care;
Your eyes ten thousand dangers dart,
Ten thousand torments vex my heart,
I love, and I despair.

Too much ALEXIS have I heard,
'Tis what I thought, 'tis what I fear'd,
And yet I pardon you, she cried;
But you shall promise ne'er again,
To breathe your vows, or speak your pain;
He bow'd, obey'd, and died.

ONE morning very early, one morning in the spring,
I neard a maid in Bedlam, who mournfully did sing,
Her chains she rattled on her hands while sweetly thus sung she,
I love my love, because I know my love loves me.

Oh cruel were his parents who seat my love to sea,
And cruel cruel was the ship that bore my love from me,
Yet I love his parents since they're his, altho' they've rain'd me,
And I love my love, because I know my love loves me.

O should it please the pitying pow'rs to call me to the sky.
I claim a guardian angel's charge around my love to fly;
To guard him from all dangers how happy should I be!
For I love my love, because I know my love loves me.

I'll make a strawy garland, I'll make it wondrous fine,
With roses, lilies, daisies, I'll mix the ealantine;
And I'll present it to my love when he returns from sea,
For I love my love, because I know my love loves me.

[Page 91]

Of if I were a little bird to build upon his breast,

Or if I were a nightingale to sing my love to rest!

To gaze upon his lovely eyes all my reward should be;

For I love my love, because I know my love loves me.

Oh if I were an eagle, to soar into the sky,!
I'd gaze around with piercing eyes where I my love might spy;
But ah! unhappy maiden, that love you ne'er shall see,
Yet I love my love, because I know my love loves me.

THE sun was sunk beneath the hill,
The western clouds were lined with gold,
Clear was the sky, the wind was 
 [...]ill,
The slocks were penn'd within the old:
When in the silence of the grove
POOR DAMON thus despair'd of love.

Who seeks to pluck the fragrant rose
From the hard rock or oozy beach,
Who from each weed that barren grows,
Expects the grape or downy peach,
With equal faith may hope to find
The truth of love in womankind.

No herds have I, no deecy care,
No fields that wave with golden grain,
No pastures green, or gardens fair,
A woman's venal heart to gain:
Then all in vain my sighs must prove
Whose whole estate, alas! is love.

How wretched is the faithful youth,
Since women's hearts are bought and sold:
They ask no vows of sacred truth,
Whene'er they sigh, they sigh for gold.
Cold can the frowns of scorn remove;
But I am scorn'd—who have but love.

To buy the gems of India's coast
What wealth, what riches would suffice?
Yet India's shore should never boast
The lustre of thy riyal eyes;

[Page 92] For there the world too cheap must prove;
Can I then buy?—who have but love.

Then, MARY, since nor gems nor ore
Can with thy brighter self compare,
Be just, as fair, and value more,
Than gems or ore, a heart sincere:
Let treasure meaner beauties move;
Who pays thy worth, must pay in love.

WHAT beauties does Flora disclose?
How sweet are her smiles upon I weed?
But MARY's still sweeter than those,
Both nature and fancy exceed.
No daisy nor sweet blushing rose
Nor all the gay flow'rs of the field,
Nor Tweed gliding gently thro' those
Such beauty and pleasure can yield.

The warblers are heard in each grove,
The linnet, the lark and the thrush;
The blackbird and sweet cooing dove
With music enchant ev'ry bush.
Come let us go forth to the mead,
Let us see how the primroses spring;
We'll lodge in some village on Tweed,
And love while the seather'd folks sing.

How does my love pass the long day?
Does MARY not tend a few sheep?
Do they never careles
 [...]ly stray,
While happily she lies asleep?
Tweed's murmurs should lull her to rest,
Kind nature indulging my bliss,
To relieve the soft pains of my breast
I'd steal an ambrosial kiss.

'Tis she does the virgins excel,
No beauty with her can compare,
Love's graces all round her do dwell.
She's fairest where thousands are fair.

[Page 93] Say charmer where do thy slocks stray?
Oh! tell me at noon where they feed:
Shall I seek them on sweet winding Tay,
Or the pleasanter banks of the Tweed.

FAR in the windings of a vale,
Fast by a shelt'ring wood,
The safe retreat of health and peace,
An humble cottage stood.

There beauteous EMMA flourish'd fair
Beneath a mother's eye,
Whose only wish on earth was now,
To see her blest, and die.

The softest blush that nature spreads
Gave colour to her cheek;
Such orient colour smiles thro' heav'n
When May's sweet mornings break.

Nor let the pride of great one's scorn
This charmer of the plains;
That sun which bids their diamond blaze,
To deck our lily deigns.

Long had she fir'd each youth with love,
Each maiden with despair:
And though by all a wonder own'd,
Yet knew not she was fair.

Till EDWIN came, the pride of swains,
A soul that knew no art,
And from whose eyes serenely mild,
Shone forth the feeling heart.

A mutual flame was quickly caught,
Was quickly too reveal'd;
For neither bosom lodg
 [...] a wish,
Which virtue keeps conceal'd.

What happy hours of heartfelt bliss,
Did love on both bestow!
But bliss too mighty long to last,
Where fortune proves a soe.

[Page 94]

His sister, who like envy form'd,

Like her in mischief joy'd,

To work them harm, with wicked skill

Each darker art employ'd.

The father too, a sordid man,
Who love nor pity knew,
Was all unfeeling as the rock
From whence his riches grew.

Long had he seen their mutual flame,
And seen it long unmov'd;
Then with a father's frown at last,
He sternly disapprov'd.

In EDWIN's gentle heart a war,
Of diff'ring passions strove;
His heart which durst not disobey,
Yet could not cease to love.

Deny'd her sight, he oft behind
The spreading hawthorn crept,
To snatch a glance, to mark the spot
Where EMMA walk'd and wept.

Oft too in Stanemore's wintry waste,
Beneath the moonlight shade,
In sighs to pour his soften'd soul
The midnight mourner stray'd.

His cheeks where love with beauty glow'd
A deadly pale o'ercest;
So fades the fresh rose in its prime,
Before the northern blast.

The parents now, with late remorse,
Hung o'er his dying 
 [...]ed.
And weary'd heav'n with fruitless pray'rs,
And fruitless sorrows shed.

'Tis past, he cry'd, but, if your souls,
Sweet mercy yet can move,
Let these dim eyes once more behold
What they must ever love.

[Page 95]

She came; his cold hand softly touch'd,

And bath'd with many a tear;

Fast falling o'er the primrose pale

So morning dews appear.

But oh! his sister's jealous care
(A cruel sister she!)
Forbad what EMMA came to say
My EDWIN, live for me.

Now homeward as she helpless went,
The church-yard path along,
The blast blew 
 [...]ld, the dark o
 [...]t scream'd,
Her lover's fan'ral song.

Amid the falling gloom of night,
Her startling fancy found
In every bush his hovering shade,
His groan in every sound.

Alone, appall'd, thus had she pass'd
The visionary vale,
When lo! the death-bell smote her ear,
Sad sounding in the gale.

Just then she reach'd, with trembling steps,
Her aged mother's door;
He's gone, she cry'd, and I shall see
That angel face no more.

I feel, I feel this breaking heart
Beat high against my side:
From her white arm down funk her head,
She shiver'd, sigh'd, and died.

THE western sky was purl'd o'er
With every pleasing ray,
And flocks reviving felt no more
The sultry heat of day;

When from a hazel's artless bower
Soft warbled STREPHON's tongue;
He blest the scene, he blest the hour,
While NANCY's praise he sung;

[Page 96]

Let fop [...] with fickle falshood range

The pa [...]hs of wanton love,

Whilst weeping maids lament their change,

And sadden every grove:

But endless blessings crown the day
I saw fair Esham's dale;
And every blessing find its way
To NANCY of the vale.

'Twas from Avona's bank, the maid

 [...]iffus'd her lovely beams;
And every shining glance display'd
The Naiad of the streams.

Soft as the wild duck's tender young,
That float on 
 [...]von'd tide;
Bright as the water lily sprung
And gli
 [...]e
 [...]ing 
 [...] its side.

Fresh as the bordering flowers, her bloom,
Her eye all mild to view;
The little halcyon's c
 [...]ure plume
Wa
 [...] never half so blue.

Her shape was like the reed, so sleek,
S
 [...] taper, strait and fair;
Her dimpled smile, her blushing cheek,
How charming sweet they were!

For i
 [...] the winding vale re
 [...]iv'
 [...]
This peerless bud I found,
And shadowing rocks and woods conspir'd
To sence her beauties round.

 [...] nature in so lone a dell
Should form a nymph 
 [...] sweet!
Or fortune to her secret cell
Conduct my wand'ring feel!

Gay lordings sought her for their bride,
But she would ne'er incline;
Prove to your equals true, she cry'd,
All will prove to mine.

[Page 97]

'Tis STREPHON on the mountain's brow

Has won my right good will;

To him I gave my plighted vow,

With him I'll climb the hill.

Struck with 
 [...]er charms and geutle truth
I clasp'd the constant fair;
To her alone I give my youth,
And vow my future care.

And when this vow shall faithless prove,
Or I these charms forego,
The stream that saw our tender love,
That stream shall cease to flow.

O'ER moorlands and mountains rude barren and bare,
As wilder'd and wearied I roam,
A gentle young shepherdess sees my despair,
And leads me oe'r lawns to her home;
Yellow sheaves from rich Ceres her cottage had crown'd,
Green rushes were strew'd on the floor;
Her casement sweet woodbines crept wantonly round,
And deck'd the sod seats at her door.

We sat ourselves down to a cooling repast,
Fresh fruits, and 
 [...]he call'd me the best,
Whilst thrown off my guard by some glances she cast,
Love slily stole into my breast.
I told my soft wishes she sweetly replied,
(Ye virgins, her voice was divine)
I've rich ones rejected and great ones denied,
Yet take me, sond sh
 [...]pherd, I'm thine.

Her air was so modest, her aspect so meek,
So simple, yet sweet were her charms,
I kiss'd the ripe roses that glow'd on her cheek,
And lock'd the lov'd maid in my arms.
Now jocund together we tend a few sheep,
And i
 [...] on the banks, by the stream,
Re
 [...]lin'd on her bosom I sink into sleep,
Her image still softens my dream.

[Page 98]
Together we range o'er the slow rising hills,
Delighted with pastoral views,
Or rest on the rock whence the streamlet distils,
And mark out new themes for my Muse.
To pomp or proud titles the ne'er did aspire,
The damsel's of humble descent;
The cottager Peace is well known for her sire,
And shepherds have named her—CONTENT.

A Pastoral BALLAD, in Four Parts,

I. ABSENCE.

YE shepherds so chearful and gay,
Whose flocks never carelesly roam;
Should CORYDON's happen to stray,
Oh! call the poor wanderers home.
Allow me to muse and to sigh,
Nor talk of the change that ye find;
None one was so watchful as I:
I have lest say dear PHYLLIS behind.

Now I know what it is, to have strove
With the torture of doubt and desire;
What it is, to admite and to love,
And to leave her we love and admire
Ah lead forth my flock in the morn,
And the damps of each evening repel;
Alas! I am saint and fo
 [...]orn:
I have bade my dear PHYLLIS farewel.

Since PHYLLIS vouchsa
 [...] 
 [...] a look,
I never once dreamt of 
 [...]vine;
May I lose both my pipe and 
 [...] crook,
If I knew of a kid that was mine.
I priz'd every hour that went by,
Beyond all that had plea
 [...]'d me before:
But n
 [...]w they are p
 [...]st and 
 [...] sigh;
And I grieve that I priz'd them no more.

[Page 99]
But why do I languish in vain?
Why wander thus pensively here?
Oh! why did I come from the plain,
Where I fed on the smiles of my dear?
They tell me, my favourite maid,
The pride of that valley, is slown;
Alas! where with her I have stray'd,
I could wander with pleasure, alone.

When forc'd the fair nymph to forego,
What anguish I felt at my heart!
Yet I thought, but it might not be so,
'Twas with pain that she saw me depart.
She gaz'd, as I slowly withdrew;
My path I could nardly discern;
So sweetly she bid me ad
 [...],
I thought that she bade me return.

The pilgrim that journeys all day
To visit some far-distant shriue,
If he bear but a reliqu-away,
Is happy, cor heard to repine.
Thus widely remov'd from the fair,
Where my vows, my devotion, I owe,
Soft Flope is the relique I bear,
And my solace wherever I go.

II. HOPE.

MY banks they are furnish'd with bees,
Whose murmur invites one to sleep;
My grottos are shaded with trees,
And my hills are white over with sheep.
I seldom have met with a loss,
Such health do my fountains bestow;
My fountains all bord
 [...]r'd with moss,
Where the bare-b
 [...]lls and violets grow.

Not a pine in my grove is there seen,
But with tendrils of woodbine is bound:
Not a beecn's more beautiful green,
But a sweet-briar entwines it around.

[Page 100] Not my fields, in the prime of the year,
More charms than my cattle unfold:
Not a brook that is limpid and clear,
But it glitters with fishes of gold.

One would think she might like to retire
To the bow'r I have labour'd to rear;
Not a shrub that I heard her admine,
But I hasted and planted it there.
Oh how sudden the jessamine stroye
With the lilac to render it gay!
Already it calls for my love,
To prune the wild branches away.

From the plain from the woodlands and groves,
What strains of wild melody flow?
How the nightingales warble their loves
From thickets of roses that blow!
And when her bright form shall appear,
Each bird shall harmoniously join
In a concert so soft and so clear,
As she may not be fond to resign.

I have found out a gift for my fair;
I have found where the wood-pigeons breed:
But let me that plunder forbear,
She will say 'twas a harbarous deed;
For he ne'er could be true, she aven'd,
Who could rob a poor bird of its young:
And I 
 [...]ov'd her the more, when I heard
Such tenderness fall from her tongue.

I have heard her with sweetness unfold
How that pity was due to a dove;
That it ever attended the bold,
And she call'd it the sister of love.
But her words such a pleasure convey,
So much I her accents adore,
Let her speak, and whatever she say,
Methinks I should love her the more.

Can a bosom so gentle remain
Unmov'd when her CORYDON sighs!
Will a nymph that is sond of the plain,
These plains and this valley despise?

[Page 101] Dear regions of silence and shade!
Soft scenes of contentment and case!
Where I could have pleasingly stray'd,
If aught, in her absence, could please.

But where does my PHYLLIDA stray?
And where are her grots and her bow'rs?
Are the groves and the valleys as gay,
And the shepherds as gentle as our's?
The groves may perha as be as fair,
And the face of the valleys as fine;
The swains may in manners compare,
But their love is not equal to mine.

III. SOLICITUDE.

WHY will you my passion reprove?
Why term it a folly to grieve?
Ere I shew you the charms of my love,
She is fairer than you can believe.
With her mien she enamours the brave;
With her wit she engages the free;
With her modesty pleases the grave;
She is ev'ry way pleasing to me.

O you that have been of her train,
Come and join in my amorous lays;
I could lay down my life for the swain,
That will but sing a song in her praise.
When he sings, may the nymphs of the town
Come trooping, and listen the while;
Nay on him let not PHYLLIDA frown;
But I cannot allow her to smile.

For when PARIDEL tries in the dance
Any favour with PHYLLIS to find,
O how, with one trivial glance,
Might she ruin the peace of my mind!
In ringlets he dresses his hair,
And his crook is be-studded around;
And his pipe—oh may PHYLLIS beware
Of a magic there is in the sound.

[Page 102]
'Tis his with mock passion to glow;
'Tis his in smooth tales to unfold,
How her face is as bright as the snow,
And her bosom, be sure, is as cold;
How the nightingale labour the strain,
With the notes of his charmer to vie;
How they vary their accents in vain,
Repine at her triumphs, and die.

To the grove or the garden he strays,
And pillages every sweet;
Then, suiting the wreath to his lavs,
He throws it at PHYLLIS's feet.
O PHYLLIS, he whispers, more fair,
More sweet than the jessamin's flow'r!
What are pinks, in a morn, to compare?
What is eglantine, after a show'r?

Then the lily no longer is white;
Then the rose is depriv'd of its bloom;
Then the violets die with despight,
And the woodbines give up their perfume.
Thus glide the soft numbers along,
And he tancies no thepherd his peer;
Yet I never should envy the song,
Were not PHYLLIS to lend it an ear.

Let his crook be with hyacinths bound,
So PHYLLIS the trophy despise;
Let his forehead with laurels be crown'd,
So they shine not in PHYLLIS's eyes.
The language that slows from the heart
Is a stranger to PARIDEL's tongue;
Yet may she beware of his art,
Or sure I must envy the song.

IV. DISAPPOINTMENT.

YE shepherds give air to my lav,
And take no more heed of my sheep:
They have nothing to do, but to stray;
I have nothing to do, but to weep.

[Page 103] Yet do not my folly reprove;
She was fair and my passion begun;
She smil'd, and I could not but love;
She is faithless, and I am undone.

Perhaps I was void of all thought,
Perhaps it was plain to foresee,
That a nymph so compleat would be sought
By a swain more engaging than me.
Ah! love ev'ry hope can inspire:
It banishes wisdom the while;
And the lip of the nymph we admire
Seems forever adorn'd with a smile.

She is faithless and I am undone;
Ye that witness the woes I endure,
Let reason instruct you to shun
What it cannot instruct you to cure.
Beware how you loiter in vain
Amid nymphs of a higher degree;
It is not for me to explain
How fair, and how fickle they be.

Alas! from the day plat we met,
What hope of an end to my woes?
When I cannot endure to forget
The glance that undid my repose.
Yet time may diminish the pain:
The flower, the shrub, and the tree,
Which I rear'd for her pleasure in vain,
In time may have comfort for me.

The sweets of a dew-sprinkled rose,
The found of a murmuring stream,
The peace which from solitude flows,
Henceforth shall be CORYDON's theme.
High transports are shewn to the sight,
But we are not to find them our own;
Fate never bestow'd such delight,
As I with my PHYLLIS had known.

O ye woods, spread your branches apace;
To your deepest recesses I fly;
I would hide with the beasts of the chace;
I would vanish from every eye.

[Page 104] Yet my reed shall refound thro' the grove
With the same sad complaint it begun;
How she smil'd, and I could not but love;
Was faithless, and I am undone!

To the Memory of WILLIAM SHENSTONE, Esq.COME, shepherds, we'll follow the hearse,
And see our lov'd CORYDON laid:
Tho' sorrow may blemish the verse,
Yet let the sad tribute be paid.
They call'd him the prid of the plain:
In sooth, he was gentle and kind;
He mark'd in his elegant strain,
The graces that glow'd in his mind.
On purpose he planted yon trees,
That birds in the covert might dwell;
He cultur'd the thyme for the bees,
But never would rifle their cell.
Ye la
 [...]bkins that play'd at his feet,
Go bleat, and your master bemean:
His music was artless and sweet,
His manners as mild as your own.
No verdure shall cover the vale,
No bloom on the blossoms appear;
The sweets of the forest shall fail,
And winter discolour the year.
No birds in our bedges shall sing,
(Our bed, 
 [...] so vocal before)
Since he that should welcome the spring,
Can greet the gay season no more.
His PHY
 [...]LIS was fond of his praise,
And poet
 [...] came round in a throng;
They listen'd, and envy'd his lays,
But which of them equal'd his song?
Ye shepherds, henceforward be mute,
For lost is the pastoral strain;
So give me my CORYDON's flute,
And thus—let me break it in twain.

[Page 105]

ANACREONTIC AND JOVIAL SONGS.

WHEN Jove was resolv'd to create the round earth,
He supoenaed the virtues divine;
Young Bacchus then sat the gay chairman of mirth,
And the toast was wit, women, and wine.

The sentiment tickled the ear of each God;
Apollo he wink'd to the Nine;
And Venus gave Mars, too, a sly wanton nod,
When she drank to wit, women, and wine.

Geat Jove shook his sides, and the cup put around,
While Juno, for once, look'd divine:
These blessings, says he, shall on earth now abound,
And the toast is, wit, women, and wine.

These are joys worthy Gods, which to mortals are giv'n,
Says Momus: who will not repine?
For what's worth our notice, pray tell me in Heav'n,
If men, have wit, women, and wine.

This joke you'll repent, I'll lay fifty to seven;
Such attractions no power can decline;
Great Jove, by yourself you'll soon keep house in Heav'n,
For we will follow wit, women, and wine.

Thou'rt right, says great Jove, let us hence to the Earth,
Men and Gods think variety fine;
Who would stay in the clouds, when good-nature and mirth
Are below, with wit, women, and wine?

GIVE us glasses, my wench, give us wine and we'll quench
The remembrance of pain and of grief;
To the winds with our care, for we'll ne'er despair;
While a bottle can give us relief.

In our revel and joy, we'll forget the proud boy,
Let Lethe us miracles work;

[Page 106] For as 
 [...]ollow, I find as the bottle's her mind,
And her heart is as right as a cork.

Ariadne the gay, in despair as they say,
For false Theseus that left her behind,
Would have hang'd, or have drown'd, but in Bacchus she found
A new lover as constant as kind.

These are sables, my dear, but the moral is clear,
It was wine that her peace did restore;
When he left the poor lass, why she took to her glass,
And she ne'er remember'd him more.

WELL met, my good friends, to the laudable ends
Of society, mirth, and good humour!
No nation on earth (thank the soil gave us birth)
Is united in love more than we are:
The sociable graces I see in your faces,
Then each sill a glass to regale—a;
For this is the day, as old histories say,
That gave us the sain 
 [...] Shillela.

His memory rare, let us ever revere,
So up with your bumpers to crown it;
But stay—in his wine let each lad steep a vine
Of the Shamrock shire plant till he drown it.
The emblem is good, for it means when of food
You have taken a plentiful meal—a;
You should it dilute, and without all dispute,
It was done by the saint of Shillela.

St. George, let some breg on, who conquer'd the dragon,
And bury'd his spear is his belly;
Of St. Andrew too, and his bonnet so blue,
These are many fine stories they will tell ye;
Of Taffy's big leek, then there's others will speak,
In raptures a fabu'ous tale—a,
But Paddy's white wand, on true record doth stand,
To prove him the saint of Shillela.

T
 [...]ad, serpent and snake, from each bramble and brake,
He soon by his power collected:
No plague thro' the land but 
 [...]pa
 [...]r'd to his 
 [...]nd,
As by Heaven's kind order directed:

[Page 107] When swarm'd together, like birds of a feather,
He sent them to the ocean to sail—a;
And since, there's no vermin can do the least harm in
The purify'd land of Shillela.

From hence, too, we find, many ills of the mind
Were banish'd from our hoppy dwelling;
Each soul is the seat of what's noble and great,
Tho' vain my own praise to be telling:
While our neighbours around with these reptiles abound,
Thro' envy they suffer and rail—a;—
But still let them curse, with their own venom burst,
At the happier sate of Shillela.

We are open and free, to the heart you may see,
For candour no people before us:
Polite and sincere, as witness the fair
In every country adore us:
Maids, widows and wives for our offices strive,
And after us run to prevail—a;
For who can produce what's so sit for their use,
As a choice standing plant of Shillela.

The service in war, why, let Britons declare,
That by land and by sea we have done them;
With truth they may sing, that for country and king,
No heroes more honour have won them:
With fortune and blood we have firmly stood,
And never, like some, turn'd tail—a:
And we're ready again, on hill, ocean or plain,
To prove we're the sons of Shillela.

Then why this distinction 'gainst such a brave nation?
Why all this abuse and reslexion?
One king and one cause, our religion and laws
Should twine us in mutual affection:
But let rancour still bite, we'll together unite,
And in brotherly love never fail—a;
And thus with good cheer, may live many a year,
To remember the saint of Shillela.

BACCHUS, rosy God of wine,
With thy grapes my temples twine:
Juice nectareous let me share,
Smiling goblets, banish care.

When brisk mirth provokes the zest,
Wine to wit stills adds a jest;

[Page 108] Sparkling bumpers as they flow,
Yield a balm to every woe.

On thy ever cheering tun,
Let my thread of life be spun;
Joyous at my latest breath,
With a glass I'll welcome death.

IF life is a bubble, and breaks with a blast,
You must toss off your wine, if you would wish it to last;
For this bubble may well be destroy'd with a puff,
If it is not kept floating in liquor enough.

If life is a flower, as philosophers say,
'Tis a very good hint, understood the right way:
For if life is a flower, any blockhead can tell,
If you'd have it look fresh, you must moisten it well.

This life is no more than a journey, 'tis said,
Where the roads, for most parts, are confoundedly bad:
Then let wine be our spur, and each trav'ler will own,
That whatever the roads we jog merrily on.

This world to a theatre, liken'd has been,
Where each man around has a part in the s
 [...],
'Tis our part to get drunk, and tis matter of fact,
That the more you all drink, boys, the better you'll act.

This life is a dream, in which many will weep,
Who have strange silly fancies, and cry in their sloop:
But for us, when we weak from our dream, 'twill be said,
That the tears of the tankard were all that we shed.

TO banish life's troubles, the Grecian old sage
Press'd the fruit of the vintage oft into the bowl;
Which made him forget all the cares of old age,
It bloom'd in his face, and made happy his soul:
Whilst here we are found,
Put the bumper around,
'Tis the liquor of life that each care can controul.

This jovial philosopher taught that the sun,
Was thirsty, and often drank deep of the main;
That the planets would tipple away as they run,

[Page 109] The earth wanted moisture and soaked up the rain;
Whilst here we are found,
Put the bumper around,
'Tis the liquor of life, and why should we refrain.

Its virtues are known both in war and in love,
The hero and lover alike it makes bold;
Vexations in life's busy day 'twill remove,
Delightful alike to the young and the old.
Whilst here we are found,
Put the bumper around,
That every ill may by wine be controul'd.

SINCE life's but a span, as philosophers say,
I'm determin'd through life to be happy and gay;
In winter, or summer, in country or town,
Mirth, women, and wine shall the moments all crown.

Let the grave and morose, with fantastical pride,
Like cynics still rail, and my manner deride;
The enjoyments of life, if they're put to the test,
Will be found still alike, is the wish of each breast.

Yet prudence with pleasure, is surely the test,
That distinguishes man from inordinate beast;
The spirits to raise, and to banish dull care,
And the blessings, not follies of life for to share.

Not to give up reflexion for nonsense and strife,
Or embitter with drink all the moments of life;
The glass with good humour must ever engage,
But drunkenness is the forerunner of rage.

The passions enflam'd with the juice of the vine,
Abuses the gift of that nectar divine;
Which us'd with discretion, a cordial would prove,
To the true joys of friendship, good humour and love:

Then while that kind nature runs brisk in my veins,
And quite unimpair'd my remembrance remains;
In winter or summer, in country or town,
Mirth, women and wine shall my moments all crown.

BACCHUS, god of rosy wine,
Author of the juicy vine,
At thy altar let me bend;
Be my guardian and my friend.

[Page 110]

When bright Sol retires to rest,

Panting to fair Thetis' breast;

Then begin thy happy rites,

Which to mirth and joy invites.

Mirth and Momus then appear,
Foes to dulness, foes to care;
Then the sparkling bumpers flow,
Sweetest pleasure mortals know.

Merry jest and cheerful song,
Do the happy hours prolong;
Frolic, fun, and wanton play,
All is pleasure, all is gay.

Then the toast to beauty due,
Jovial circles to the view;
Ruby lips, and sparkling eyes,
Ev'ry fancy then supplies.

Thus let all our moments pass,
With a real friend and glass;
Bacchus, 'tis to thee we pray,
Aid us to be free and gay.

WHEN Bacchus first planted the vine
Which the heart-cheering grape does product;
ach mortal declar'd it divine,
As freely they quaff'd round the juice:
This excellent nectar,
Made each bold as Hector;
It heighten'd the spirits and made the heart gay,
And banish'd the troubles of life far away.

Like them let us merrily quaff,
And lift up to Bacchus the song;
With a tale, and a joke, and a laugh,
The moments of time still prolong:
Then this earthly nectar,
Will make each a Hector,
'Twill cheer up the spirits, and make the heart gay,
And banish the troubles of life far away.

Fill, fill up a toast to the best,
And let it go happily round;
It to friendship and love gives a zest,
And wisdom will make more profound
For this earthly nectar,
Makes each bold as Hector,

[Page 111] 'Twill cheer up the spirits, and make the heart gay,
And banish the troubles of life far away.

When Phoebus retires to rest,
And sinks in the ocean his ray;
Then we with a glass of the best,
Forget the fatigues of the day:
Good wine that's like nectar,
Makes each bold 
 [...] Hector,
It cheers up 
 [...]e spirits, and makes the heart gay,
And will banish the troubles of life far away.

HAIL! Madeira, thou juice divine!
Inspirer of my song!
The praif
 [...] given 
 [...] other wine,
To thee alone belong;
Of manly wit and female charms,
Thou can't the power improve;
Ca
 [...]e of its stin
 [...]ay balm disarms,
Thou noble
 [...] gife of Jove.

Bright Phoebus on the parent vines,
From whence thy current streams,
Sweet smiling thro' the tendril shines,
And lavish darts his beams;
The pregnant grape receives his fires,
And all his force retains;
With that same warmth our brain inspires,
And animates our strains.

From thee my Chloe's radiant eye,
New sparkling beams receives;
Her cheeks imbibe a rosier dye,
Her beauteous bosom heaves:
Summon'd to love by thy alarms,
Oh! with what nervous heat,
Worthy the fair, we fill their arms;
And oft their bliss repeat!

The stole, prone to thought intense,
Thy softness can unbend,
A cheerful gaiety dispense,
And ma
 [...]e him taste a friend;
His brows grow clear, he feels content,
Forgets his pensive strife;
And then concludes his time well spent,
In honest social life.

[Page 112]
E'en beaux, those soft, amphibious things,
Wrapt up in selves and dress,
Quite lost to the delight that springs
From sense, thy power confess:
The fop with city, maudlin face,
That dares but deeply dank,
Forgets his queue and stiff grimace,
Grows free, and seems to think.

WHATE'ER squeamish lovers may say,
A mistress I've found to my mind;
I enjoy her by night and by day,
Yet she grows still more lovely and kind:
Of her beauties I never am cl
 [...]'d,
Though I constantly stick by her side;
Nor despise her because she's enjoy'd
By a legion of lovers beside:
For though thousands may broach her,
May broach her, may broach her,
By Jove I shall neither feel envy of spleen,
Nor jealous can prove of the the mistress I love;
For a bottle, a bottle, a bottle's the mistress I mean.

Should I try to describe all her merit,
With her praises I ne'er should have done;
She's brimful of sweetness and spirit,
And sparkles with freedom and fun:
Her stature's majestic and tall,
And taper her bosom and waist;
Her neck long, her mouth round and small,
And her lips how delicious to taste.
For though, &c.

You may grasp her with ease by the middle,
To be o
 [...]! how vast her delight!
And yet her whole sex is a riddle,
You never can stop her too tight:
When your engine you once introduce
To her circle, her magical bower;
Pop—away from within thes the juice,
And your senses are drown'd in the shower.
For though, &c.

But the sweetest of raptures that flow
From the dell ate charmer I prize;
Is sure when her head is laid low,
And her bottom's turn'd up to the skies;

[Page 113] Stick to her, and fear not to win her,
She'll ne'er prove peevish or coy;
And the farther and deeper you're in her,
The fuller she'll fill you with joy.
For though, &c.

Thus naked, and clasp'd in my arms,
With her my sweet moments I'll spend;
And revel the more on her charms,
To share her delight with a friend:
To divinity, physic, or law
Her favours I never shall grudge;
Though cach night she may make a faux pas
With a bishop, a doctor, or judge.
For though, &c.

THE festive board was met, the social band
Round fam'd Anacreon took their silent stand.
My sons (began the sage) be this the rule:
No brow austere must dare approach my school,
Where Love and Bacchus jointly reign within;
Old Care, begone! here sadness is a sin.

Tell me not the joys that wait
On him that's learn'd, on him that's great;
Wealth and wisdom I despise,
Cares surround the rich and wise.
The queen that gives soft wishes birth,
And Bacchus, god of wine and mirth,
Me their friend and fav'rite own;
I was born for them alone.
Bus'ness, title, pomp, and state,
Give 'em to the fools I hate;
But let love, let life, be mine,
Bring me women, bring me wine;
Speed the dancing hours away,
Mind not what the grave ones say:
Gaily let the minutes fly,
In wit and freedom, love and joy:
So shall love, shall life, be mine;
Bring me women, bring me wine.

WHEN I drain the rosy bowl,
Joy exhilarates my soul;
To the Nine I raise my song,
Ever fair and ever young.

[Page 114]

When full cups my cares expel,

Sober counsels, then farewel:

Let the winds that murmur, sweep

All my sorrows to the deep.

When I drink dull time away,
Jolly Bacchus, ever gay,
Leads me to delightful bow'rs,
Full of fragrance, full of flow'rs.

When I quaff the sparkling wine,
And my looks with roses twine;
Then I praise life's rural scene
Sweet, sequester'd, and serene.

When I seek the bowl profound,
Richest fragrance flowing round,
And some lovely nymph detain;
Venus then inspires the strain.

When from goblets deep and wide
I exhaust the generous tide,
All my sou! unbends—I play
Gamesome with the young and gay.

When the foaming bowl I drain,
Real blessings are my gain;
Blessings which my own I call,
Death is common to us all.

WHILE others barter ease for state,
And fondly aim at growing great,
Let me (with rosy chaplets crown'd)
Stretch'd on the flow'r-enamell'd ground,
The grape's nectareous juices quaff,
Alternate sing, and love, and laugh.
Already see the purple juice
Resplendent o'er my cheek diffuse
A second youth!—Again, the bowl
With warm desires inflames my soul.

Quickly, ah quickly! must I leave
The joys which wine and beauty give;
Soon must I quit my wonted mirth,
And mingle with my parent earth,
Where kings, divested of their state,
With slaves sustain a common fate.

Let then the present hour be mine,
Blest in the joys of love and wine:

[Page 115] Come, ye virgin throng, advance,
And mingle in the sprightly dance:
To the lyre's enchanting sound
Nimbly tread the blithesome round;
While the genial bowl inspires
Soft delight and gay desires.

WITHIN a cool and pleasant shade,
By myrtles and by poplars made,
I sit where roses round me twine,
And langhing Cupid brings me wine;
His loosely flowing garments ty'd
With reeds pluck'd from the river-side.
The moments swiftly fly, I feel,
Quick-whirling like a chariot-wheel;
And when a few sleet years are pasl,
Life gone, we turn to dust at last.
Say, why should we anoint the dead,
Or why sweet flow'rs around them spread?
Why pour libations on their tomb?
'Tis liquor wasted: rather come,
And pour on me the ointment; bring
The rose, and all the flow'rs that spring
Around us wild; and bring to me
A lass that's pretty, kind, and free;
For I'm resolv'd, before I go
To Plutus and the realms below,
To cast my ev'ry care away,
Laugh and be happy while I may.

IF the treasur'd gold could give
Man a longer term to live,
I'd employ my utmost care
Still to keep, and still to spare;
And, when death approach'd, would say,
Take thy fee, and walk away.

But since riches cannot save
Mo
 [...]is from the gloomy grave,
Why should I m
 [...]lf deceive,
Vainly sigh, and vainly grieve?
Death w
 [...]l surely be my lot.
Whether I am rich or not.

[Page 116]
Give me freely while I live
Generous wines, in plenty give
Soothing joys my life to cheer,
Beauty kind, and friends sincere;
Happy, could I ever find
Friends sincere, and beauty kind.

MY temples with clusters of grapes I'll entwine,
And barter all joy for a goblet of wine;
In search of a Venus no longer I'll run,
But stop and forget her at Bacchus's tun.

Yet why thus resolve to relinquish the fair?
'Tis folly with spirits like mine, to despair;
For what mighty charms can be found in a glass,
If not fill'd to the health of some favourite lass?

'Tis woman whose charms ev'ry rapture impart,
And lend a new spring to the pulse of the heart;
The miser himself (so supreme is her sway)
Grows convert to love, and resigns her his key.

At the sound of her voice, sorrow lifts up her head,
And poverty listens, well pleas'd, from her shed;
While age, in an ecstacy, hobbling along,
Beats time with his crutch to the tune of her song.

Then bring me a goblet from Bacchus's hoard,
The largest and deepest that stands on the board;
I'll fill up a brimmer, and drink to the fair;
'Tis the thirst of a lover, and pledge me who dare.

BUSY, curious, thirsty fly,
Drink with me, and drink as I,
Freely welcome to my cup,
Could'st thou sip, and sip it up:
Make the most of life you may:
Life is short, and wears away.

Both alike are mine and thine,
Hast'ning quick to their decline;
Thine's a summer, mine no more,
Tho' repeated to threescore:
Threescore summers, when they're gone,
Will appear as short as one.

[Page 117]

BY the gaily circling glass
We can see how minutes pass,
By the hollow cask we're old
How the waming night grows old.
Soon, too soon, the busy day
Drives us from our sports away.
What have we with day to do?
Sons of care! 'twas made for you.

WHAT Cato advises most certainly wise is,
Not always to labour, but sometimes to play;
To mingle sweet pleasure with search after treasure,
Indusging at night for the toils of the day.

And while the dull miser esteems himself wiser,
His bags to increase, while his health must decay;
Our souls we enlighten, our fancies we brighten,
And pass the long evenings in pleasure away.

All cheerful and hearty, we set aside party,
With some tender fair each bright bumper is crown'd;
Here Bacchus invites us, there Venus delights us,
And care in an ocean of Madeira is drown'd.

See there's our physician, we know no ambition;
For where there's good wine and good company found,
Thu happy together, in spite of all weather,
'Tis sunshine and summer with us the year round;

BANISH sorrow, let's drink and be merry, boys;
Time shes swiftly, to-morrow brings care:
Would ye believe it, wine will relieve it,
Drink will deceive it, and drown despair,
For the joys of wine are found in p
 [...]ing;
I
 [...]s juice divine is, mankind's greatest blessing;
The gl
 [...]ss is thine—Drink; there's no 
 [...]
A bumper on two with such che
 [...] friends.

'Tis wine that gives thougth when n
 [...]'s ex
 [...]sted.
Heals the sick man, 
 [...] the slave;
Makes the proud 
 [...]umble, and the 
 [...]:

 [...] the 
 [...], and makes cow
 [...] is brave.
For the joys of wine, 
 [...].

[Page 118] 'Tis wine that banishes all worldly sorrow;
Then who would refuse the pleasing task
It sweetens society, eases anxiety;
Hang dull sobriety—bring t'other flask.
For the joys of wine, &c.

FILL your glasses, banish grief,
Laugh, and worldly cares despise:
Thinking ne'er can bring relief,
Joys from drinking will arise.
Why should we wi
 [...]h anxious care
Spoil what nature's made so fair?
Drink, and set your hearts at rest;
Of a bad bargain make the best.

Some pursue the winged wealth,
Some to honours do aspire;
Give me freedom, give me health,
That's the sum of my desire:
What this world can more present,
Would not add to my content.
So drink, &c.

Busy minds, we know, alas!
With imaginations run;
Like the sand in the hour-glass,
Turns and turns, and still runs on;
Never knowing where to stay,
Still uneasy every way.
So drink, &c.

Mirth, when mingled with our wine,
Makes the heart alert and free;
Let it rain, or snow, or shine,
Still the same thing 'tis to me.
There's no striving 'gainst our late,
Dangers daily on us wait.
Then drink, &c.

THE thirsly earth sucks up the show'rs
Which from his urn Aquarius p
 [...]urs;
The trees, which wave their noughs profuse,
Imbibe the earth's prolific juice:
The sea, in his prodigious cup,
Drinks all the rain and rivers up:

The sun too thirsts, and strives to drain
The sea, the rivers, and the rain:

[Page 119] And, nightly, when his course is run,
The merry moon drinks up the sun.
Then give me wine; and tell me why,
My friends, should all things drink but I?

ROVING about, good fellows to meet,
I met with a man upon Sal'sbury dale;
I saw by his face that he was in good case
To go and shake hands with a pot of good ale.

The beggar who begs without any legs,
And has not a rag to cover her tail,
Is as happy in rags as the miser with bags,
If once she shakes hands with a pot of good ale.

The old parish vicar, when he's in his liquor,
Does merrily at his parishoners rail,
"Come pay all your tithes, or I'll kiss all your wives,"
When once he shakes hands with a pot of good ale.

The old parish-clerk, his eyes are so dark,
He cannot well read, the print is so small;
But he'll see ev'ry letter, and sing the psalms better,
If once he shakes hands with a pot of good ale.

The farmer who hedges and ditches all day,
And wearies himself out at the plough-tail,
He'll talk of great things, about princes and kings,
When once he sits down to a pot of good ale.

If, in drinking about, we chance to fall out,
Or any thing else doth our senses assail;
If words comes to brows, or a sharp bloody nose,
We'll drink and shakehands with a pot of good ale.

NOW we are free from college rules,
From systems out of season;
From lumber the lying schools,
And syliogastic reason:
Never more we'll have defin'd
If matter thinks or thinks not;
All the matter we shall mind,
Is he who drinks or drinks not.

Metaphysical to trace,
The mind or soul abstracted;

[Page 120] Or prove infinity of space,
By cause on cause effected.

Better souls we can't become
By immaterial thinking;
And as to space, we want no roo
 [...]
But room enough to drink in.

Plenum, vacuum, minus, plus,
Are learned words and rare too;
Those terms our tutors may discuss,
And those that please may hear too.

A plenum in our wine we show,
With 
plus and 
plus behind, Sir;
And when our cash is 
minus low,
A 
vacuum soon we find, Sir.

Copernicus, that learned sage,
Dane Tycho's error proving,
Declares (I don't know in what page)
That Earth round Sol is moving:
But which goes round, what's that to us?
Each is perhaps a notion;
With earth or sun we'll make no fuzz,
But mind the glasses' motion.

Great Galileo ill was us'd
By superstition's sury;
And Antipodians much abus'd
By 
ignoramus jury.
But seet to seet we dare attest,
Nor fear a treatment scurvy;
For when we're drunk, 
probatum est,
We're tumbling topsy turvy.

Newton talk'd of lights and shades,
And different colours knew, sir;
But let not us disturb our heads,
We'll study only two, sir;
White and red our glasses boast,
True humour's rarefaction;
After him we'll name our toast,—
The centre of attraction.

On that 
thesis we'll declaim,
With 
Stratum super stratum;
There's magic in the mighty rame,
'Tis nature's 
postulatum.
Wine in nature's next to love,
Then wisely let us blend 'em;
First, though, physically prove,
That 
tempus est bibendum.

[Page 121]

O The days when I was young!
When I laught in fortune's spight,
Talk'd of love the whole day long,
And with nectar crown'd the night.
Then it was, old father Care,
Little reck'd I of thy frown;
Half thy malice youth could bear,
And the rest a bumper drown.
O the days, &c.

Truth, they say, lies in a well,
Why, I vow, I ne'er could see;
Let the water-drinkers 
 [...]ll,
There it always lay for me.
For when sparkling wine went round,
Never saw I falsehood's mask;
But still honest truth I found
In the bottom of each flask!
O the days, &c.

True, at length my vigour's flown,
I have years to bring decay;
Few the locks that now I own,
And the few I have are grey!
Yet, old, Jerome, thou may'st boast,
While thy spirits do not tire,
Still, beneath thy age's frost,
Glows a spark of youthful fire.
O the days, &c.

PHO! pox o' this nonsense, I pr'ythee give o'er,
And talk of your Phillis and Chloe no more;
Their face, and their air, and their mien; what a rout!
Here
 [...]s to thee, my lad, push the bottle about.

Let finical sops play the sool and the ape,
They dare not confide in the juice of the grape;
But we honest fellows—'sdeath! who'd ever think
Of puling for love, while he is able to drink?

'Tis wine, only wine, that true pleasure bestows;
Our joys it increases, and lightens our woes:
Remember what topers of old us'd to sing,
The man that is drunk is as great as a king.

[Page 122]

If Cupid assaults you, there's law for his tricks;

Anacreon's cases see, page twenty-six:

The precedent's glorious, and just, by my soul;

Lay hold on and drown the young dog in a bowl.

What's life but a frolic, a soug, and a laugh?
My toast shall be this, whilst I've liquor to quaff;
"May mirth and good fellowship always abound?"
Boys, sill up a bumper, and let it go round.

CONTENTED I am, and contented I'll be,
For what can this world more afford,
Than a friend that will sociably tipple with me,
And a cellar that's plenteously stor'd?

See! my vault door is open, descend ev'ry guest,
Tap that cask, for the wine we will try;
'Tis as sweet as the lips of your love to your taste,
And as bright as her checks to your eye.

In a piece of slit-hoop I my candle have stuck,
'Twill light us each bottle to hand;
The foot of my glass for the purpose I've broke,
For I hate that a bumper should stand.

Sound that pipe—'tis in tune, and the binns are well fill'd,
View that heap of Madeira in the tear;
Those bottles are Burgundy; see how they're pil'd,
Like artillery, tier over 
 [...]er.

My cellar's my camp, and my soldiers my slasks,
All gloriously rang'd in review;
When I cast my eyes round, I consider my casks
As kingdoms I've got to subdue.

'Tis my will when I die, not a tear shall be shed,
No 
hic jacet be grav'd on my stone;
But pour on my coffin a bottle of red,
And say that my drinking is done.

YOU know that our ancient philosophers hold,
There is nothing in beauty, or honour, on gold;
That bliss in externals no mortal can find,
And in truth, my good friends, I am quite of their mind.

What makes a man happy, I never can doult:
'Tis something within him, and nothing without:

[Page 123] This something, they said, was the source of content:
And whate'er they call'd it, 'twas wine that they meant.

Without us, indeed, it is not worth a pin;
But, ye gods! how divine once we get it within;
'Tis then, of all blessings, the flourishing root;
And, in 'spite of the world, we can gather the fruit.

When the bottle is wanting the soul is deprest,
And beauty can kindle no slame in the breast;
But with wine in our hearts we are always in love,
As gav as the linnet, and fond as the dove.

The richest and greatest are poor and repine,
If with gold and with grandeur you give them no wine;
But wine to the peasant or slave if you bring,
He's as rich as a Jew, and as great as a king.

With wine at my heart, I am happy and free;
Externals without in are nothing to me:
Come fill, and this truth from a bumper you'll know,
That wine is the greatest of blessings below.

WE'LL drink, and we'll never have done, boys;
Put the glass then round with the sun, boys.
Let A pollo's example invite us:
For he's drunk every night,
That makes him so bright,
That he's able next morning to light us.

Drinking's a Christian diversion,
Unknown to Turk and the Persian:
Let Mahometan fools
Live by Heathenish rules,
And dream o'er their tea-pots and coffee;
We'll handle our glasses,
And drink to our lasses,
And a fig for their Sultan and Sophy.

DRUNK as a dragon su e is he,
The youth that dines or sups with thee,
And sees and hears thee, full of sun,
Louldly laugh, and quaintly pun.

'Twas this first made me love my dose,
And rais'd such pimples on my nose;

[Page 124] For while I fill'd to ev'ry toast,
My health was gone, my senses lost.

I found the cla
 [...] and 
 [...] paign
Inflame my blood, and mad my brain;
The toast fell fault'ring from my tongue.
I hardly heard the catch I sung.

I felt my gorge with sickness rise;
The candles dauc'd before my eyes;
My sight grew dim, the room turn'd round;
I tumbled senseless on the ground.

THERE was once, it is said,
(When is out of my head,
And where too,—yet true is my tal
 [...])
That a round-belly'd vicar,
Bepimpled with liquor,
Could stick to no text like good ale.
Tol de rol, de rol lol, lol lol lol.

He, one night, 'gan to dose;
For, under the rose,
The priest was that night 
non-se-ipse:

Non-se-ipse!—you'll say,
What's that to the lay?
In plain English the parson was tipsy.

His clerk stepping in
With a band-bobbing chin,
As solemn and stupid as may be;
The vicar he gap'd,
The clerk hemm'd and scrap'd,
Saying, 'Please, sir, to bury a baby.'

Now our author supposes
The clerk's name was Moses;
He look'd, like his master, so rosy;
Who blink'd with one eye,
With his wig all awry,
And hickup'd, "Pray, how is it Mosy?"

'A child, Sir, is carry'd,
'By you to be bury'd:—
"Bury me, Mosy! no, that won't do!"
'Lord, Sir, (says the clerk),
'You re quite in the dark,
''Tis a child to be bury'd not youl'

"Well, Mosy, don't hurry,
"The infant we'll bury."—

[Page 125] 'But, master, the corpse cannot stay!'—
"Well, can't it?—but why?—
"For once, then, we'll try
"If a corpse, Mosy, can runaway!"

'But, (Moses reply'd)
'Sir, the parish will chide
'For keeping them out in cold weather,'
"Then, Mosy, (quoth he),
"Go an! tell 'em from me,
"I'll bury them warm all together."

'But, sir, it rains hard;
'Prav, have some regard!'
"Regard, Mosy, that makes me stay;
"For no corple y 
 [...]un or old,
"In rain can catch cold;
"But saith, Mosy, you and I may!"

Moses begg'd he'd be gone;
Saying, 'Sir, the rain's done,
'Please to rise, and I'll lend you my hand.'
'Oh, tis hard (quoth the vicar)
"To leave thus my liquor,
"To go when I am sure I can't stand!"

Then the parson, with trouble,
To the church-yard did hobble,
Lamenting the length of the way;
"For, Mosy, (quoth he),
"Were I a bishop dy'e see,
"I neither need walk, preach, or pray!"

When he came to the grave,
Says he, "Moses, a stave!—
"Lord, where's my tobacco-box hid!
"I protest this fast walking
"Prevents me from talking—
"So, Mosy, pray give me a quid."

Then he open'd the book,
And in't s
 [...]em'd to look,
But o'er the page only he squinted.
Said he, "Moses. I'm vex'd,
"For I can't find the text,
"The book is 
 [...]o
 [...]wretch
 [...]dly printed.

"Good people, let's pray:
"L
 [...]'s, alas! 
 [...]t a day,—
"Nay, sometimes 'tis over at noon!

[Page 126] "Man is but a flow
 [...]r,
"Cut down in an hour!
"'Tis strong ale, Mosy, does it so soon.

"Woman of a man born—
"No that's wrong—
 [...]he leaf's torn—
"Upon woman the natural swell is:
"The world would grow wild
"Were men got with child:
"Mosy, you and I might have big bellies.

"Neighbours, mind what I say:
"When tis night 'tis not day;
"Tho', in former times, faints could work miracles!
"They'd raise from the dead—
"There's no more to be said,
"For, Moses, I've dropt down my spectacles.

"Then neighbours, forthwith
"Put the child in the earth;
"Dust to dust, Mosy, dust it away:
"For, Moses, I trust
"We all should be dust,
"If we were not to moisten our clay."

HARK! hark away! away to the downs!
The huntsman is just gone before with the hounds,
Sol, well pleas'd with his last night's nap,
Is shaking his cars in Thetis's lap.
Come, come, my boys, let's away to the joys
Which far excel the delights of your doxics,
This is the sport to which we'll resort,
While we can find either hares or foxes.
Fal al de ral, &c.

Diana and her nymphs are already drest,
Each with her q
 [...]iver and hunting vest;
To follow the chase, well does she know,
Far exceeds the sport of Cupid's bow,
Let the fond loving fool go on if he will,
Coursing his lass with lighs and with 
 [...]ars;
We'll hunt all the day, all night sing and play,
And we'll outlive him by many many years.
Fal al de ral. &c.

But, hark! I hear Tipsy, I'm sure that's good;
Ratler he hits it through the wood;

[Page 127] Drunkard doubles it, she's certainly gone;
See. yonder! she scuds it over the lawn!
Gone, gone away! hark! stole away!
John, lay in the dogs with a rally;
Prithee why so fast? not so much haste;
See how she skulks it over the valley.
Fal al de ral, &c.

See, how Sportsman leads them along;
Random excels them all with his tongue;
Over, you dog, or I'll crack your crown;
Sirrah, get up again, now that you're down
Snowball, the way; hark, hark, the way!
That's good, my lad, she's gone over the fallow:
Draw the hounds round, the sheep stale the ground:
What the devil makes yon footman to halloo?
Fal al de ral, &c.

Hold your tongue now, don't make such a rout;
Let them alone; they'll soon make it out:
Hang that l'offer, how he does ring!
Twinger, war wing, war wing war wing.
Mounter, well hit, she's gone thro' the pit;
That's good, my lad whip them in, you great blockhead.
Wind for, the way; hark! hark! the wa
 [...]:
That's good, my lads! hark! to Thunder and Rockwood.
Fal al de ral, &c.

Hold hard in, why ride you so fast?
See o
 [...]d Rally he works it at last;
Sue almost is spent, you may know by that:
The bounds draw amiss; she has certainly squat.
M
 [...]ke good your aid; quick, quick, she's dead:
Down from your horses. and save her from tearing.
Hurrah, hurra, hurra! hurrah, hurra, hurra!
See yonder they come, almost out of hearing.
Fal al de ral, &c.

Come, my brave boys, 'tis glorious sport;
Full two hours it is since we did start;
Not like the dull courser who beats in the bush,
Searching, all day to find out a puss.
She's up up. she's up!—she's up up. she's up!
By my fa
 [...]h and my troth there's no pleasure in it:
Halloo, halloo! halloo halloo, halloo!
D
 [...]ll for an hour, and mad for a minute.
Fal al de ral, &c.

[Page 128]

LAST Valentine's day, when bright Phoehus shone clear,
I had not been hunting for more than a year;
Taleo, taleo, taleo, taleo.
I mounted black Sloven 
 [...]oler the road made him bound,
For I heard the hounds challenge, and horns sweetly sound.
Taleo, taleo, taleo, taleo, taleo, taleo, taleo.

Hallow into covert, old Anthony cries;
No sooner he spoke, but the fox, S
 [...]e 'spies;
Taleo, &c.
This being the sigual, he then crack'd his whip;
Taleo was the word, and away, we did leap.
Taleo, &c.

Then up rides 'Dick Dawson, who car'd not a pin;
He sprang at the drain, but his horse tumbled in;
Taleo, &c.
And as he crept out, why he spy'd old ren'.
With his tongue hanging out, stearing home to his den.
Taleo, &c.

Our hounds and our houses were always as good
As ever broke covert, or dasn'd thro' the wood;
Taleo, &c.
Old Reynard runs hard, but must certainly die;
Have at you, old 'Tony, Dick Dawson did cry.
Taleo, &c.

The hounds they had run twenty miles now or more,
Old Anthony fretted, he curs'd too and swore;
Taleo, &c.
But Reynard being spent, soon must give up the ghost,
Which will heighten our joys, when we come to each toast
Taleo, &c.

The day's sport being over, the horns we will sound.
To the jolly fox-hunters let echo resound;
Taleo, &c.
To fill u
 [...] your glasses, and cheerfully drink;
To the honest true sportsman who never will shrink.
Taleo, &c.

THE dusky night rides down tice sky,
And usher, in the morn;

[Page 129] The hounds all join in jovial cry,
The huntsman winds his horn.
Then to hunting let us go, &c.

The wife around her husband throws
Her arms, to make him stay:
"My dear, it hails, it rains, it blows,
"You cannot hunt to-day!"
But to hunting we will go, &c.

Th' uncavern'd fox like lightning flies,
His cunning's all awake;
To gain the race he eager tries,
His forfeit life the stake!
When to hunting we do go, &c.

Arous'd, e'en Echo huntress turns,
And madly shouts her joy;
The sportsman's breast, enraptur'd burns,
The chase can never cloy.
Then to hunting we will go, &c.

Despairing, mark! he seeks the tide:
His art can't yet prevail;
For shouts the miscreant's death betide,
His speed, his cunning, fail!
When to hunting we do go, &c.

For, lo! his strength to faintness worn,
The hounds arrest his slight;
Then weary homewards we return,
To drink away the night.
Then to drinking we will go, &c.

I AM a jolly huntsman,
My voice is shrill and clear,
Well known to drive the stag,
And the drooping dogs to cheer.
And a hunting we will go, will go, will go,
And a hunting we will go.

I leave my bed by times,
Before the morning grey;
Let loose my dogs, and mount a horse,
And hollow, Come away!

The game's no sooner rouz'd,
But in rush the cheerful cry:
Thro' bush and brake, o'er hedge and stake,
The frighted stag does sly.

[Page 130]

In vain he slies to covert;

A numerous pack pursue,

That never cease to trace his steps,

Altho' they've lost the view.

There's Scentwell and Finder,
Dogs never known to fail,
To hit off with humble nose,
But with a lofty tail.

To Scentwell, hark! he calls,
And faithful Finder joins;
Whip in the dogs, my merry rogues,
And give your horse the reins.

Hark! forward how they go it,
The view they'd lost they gain;
Tantivy, high and low,
Their legs and throats they strain.

Now Dutchess hits it foremost,
Next Lightfoot leads the way,
And Toper bears the bell;
Each dog will have his day.

There's Music and Chanter,
Their nimble trebles try;
Whilst Sweetlips and Tunewell
With counters clear reply.

There's Rockwood and Thunder,
That tongue the heavy bass;
Whilst Trowler and Ringwood
With tenors crown the chase.

Now sweetly in full cry
Their various notes they join;
Gods! what a concert's here, my lads!
'Tis more than half divine.

The woods, rocks, and mountains
Delighted with the sound,

 [...]o neighb'ring dales and fountains
Repeating, deal it round.

A glorious chase it is,
We've drove him many a mile,
O'er hedge and ditch, we go thro' stitch,
And hit off many a foil.

And yet he runs it stoutly;
How wide, how swist he strains!
With what a shap he took that leap,
And scow'rs it o'er the plains!

[Page 131]

Up yonder steep I'll follow,

Beset with craggy stones;

The 'Squire cries, Jack, you dog, come back,

Or else you'll break your bones.

Huzza! he's almost down,
He begins to slack his course;
He pants for breath; I'll in at's death,
Or else I'll kill my horse.

See, now he takes the moors,
And strains to reach the stream;
He leaps the flood to cool his blood,
And quench his thirsty slame.

He scarce has touch'd the bank;
The cry bounce finely in,
And swiftly swim across the stream,
And raise a glorious din.

His legs begin to fail,
His wind and speed are gone;
He stands at bay, and gives 'em play,
He can no longer run.

Old Hector long behind,
By use and nature bold,
Ia rushes first, and seizes fast,
But soon is flung from's hold.

He traverses his ground,
Advances, and retreats;
Gives many hound a mortal wound,
And long their force defeats.

He bounds, and springs, and snorts:
He shakes his branched head;
'Tis safest farthest off, I see;
Poor Talboy is lain dead.

Vain are heels and antlers,
With such a pack set round;
'Spite of his heart, seize ev'ry part,
And fearless pull him down.

Ha, dead! ware dead! whip off,
And take a special care;
Dismount with speed, and cut his throat,
Lest they his haunches tear.

The sport is ended now,
We're laden with the spoil:
As home we pass; we talk o' the chase.
O'er paid for all our toil.

[Page 132]

HARK! hark! the joy-inspiring horn
Salutes the rosy rising morn,
And echoes thro' the dale;
With clam' rous peals the hills resound,
The hounds, quick-scented, scow'r the ground,
And snuff the fragrant gale.

Nor gates nor hedges can impede
The brisk, high-mettled, starting steed,
While ardent we pursue;
Like lightning darting o'er the plain,
The distant hills with speed we gain,
And see the game in view.

Her path the timid hare forsakes,
And to the copse for shelter makes,
There pants a while for breath;
When now the noise alarms her car,
Her haunts descry'd, her fate is near,
She sees approaching death.

Directed by the well-known breeze,
The hounds their trembling victim seize,
She faints, she falls, she dies;
The distant coursers now come in,
And join the loud triumphant din,
Till echo rends the skies.

FROM the cast breaks the morn,
See the sun-beams adorn
The wild heath, and the mountains so high,
The wild heath, &c.
Shrilly opes the staunch l
 [...]d,
The steed neighs to the so
 [...]nd,
And the floods and the valley reply,
And the floods, &c.

Our for fathers so good,
Prov'd their greatness of blood,
By encount'ring the hart and the boar;
By encount'ring, &c.
Ruddy health bloom'd the face,
Age and youth urg'd the chase,
And taught woodlands and forests to roar,
And taught woodlands, &c.

[Page 133]
Hence, of noble descent,
Hills and wilds we frequent,
Where the bosom of nature's reveal'd;
Where the bosom, &c.
Tho' in life's busy day,
Man of man makes a prey,
Still let ours be the prey of the field,
Still let ours, &c.

With the chase full in sight,
Gods! how great the delight!
How our mental sensations refine!
How our mental, &c.
Where is care, where is fear?
Like the winds in the rear.
And the man's lost in something divine,
And the man's, &c.

Now to horse, my brave boys;
Lo! each pants for the joys
That anon shall enliven the whole;
That anon, &c.
Then at eve we'll dismount,
Toils and pleasures recount,
And renew the chase over the bowl,
And renew the chase, &c.

TO the chase, to the chase; on the brow of the hill
Let the hounds meet the sweet breathing morn;
Whilst to the welkin, their notes clear and shrill
Join the sound of the heart-cheering horn:
What music celestial! when urging the race,
Sweet echo repeats "To the chase, to the chase?"

Our pleasure transports us, how gay flies the hour!
Sweet health and quick spirits attend;
Not sweeter when evening convenes to the bower,
And we meet the lov'd smile of a friend.
See the stag just before us! he starts at the cry:
He stops—his strength fails—speak my 
 [...]ends—must he die?

His innocent aspect, whilst standing at bay,
His expression of anguish and pain,
All plead or compassion—your looks seem to say
Let him bound o'er the forests again.
Quick, release him to dart o'er the neigbouring plain,
Let him live—let him bound o'er his forests again.

[Page 134]

HARK, hark ye, how echoes the horn in the vale,
Whose notes do so sportively dance on the gale,
To charm us to barter for ignoble rest,
The joys which true pleasure can raise in the breast:
The morning is fair, and in labour with day,
And the cry of the huntsman is hark, hark, away:
Then, wherefore defer we one moment our joys?
Haste, haste, let's away, so to horse, my brave boys.

What pleasure can equal the joys of the chase,
Where meaner delights to more noble give place,
While onward we press, and each forrow defy,
From valley to valley, re-echoes the cry:
Our joys are all sterling, to forrow we fear,
We bound o'er the lawn, and look back on old Care;
Forgetful of labour, we leap o'er the mounds,
Led on by the horn and the cry of the hounds.

WHEN Phoebus begins just to peep o'er the hills,
With horns we awaken the day;
And rouse brother sportsmen, who fluggishly sleep,
With hark! to the woods hark! away:
See the hounds are uncoupled in musical cry,
How sweetly it echoes around;
And high mettled steeds with their neighings all seem
With pleasure to echo the found.

Behold when sly Reynard, with panic and dread,
At distance o'er hillocks doth bound;
The pack on the scent with rapid career,
Hark! the horns! O how sweetly they sound:
Now on to the chase, o'er hills and o'er dales,
All dangers we nobly defy;
Our steeds are all flout and our sports we'll pursue,
With shoots that resound to the sky.

But see how he lags, all his arts are in vain,
No longer with swiftness he f
 [...]ies;
Each hound in his 
 [...]y determines his fate,
The natter is seiz'd on and dies:
With showing and joy we return from the field,
With wine crown the sports of the day;
Then to rest we recline, till the horn calls again,
Then away to the woodlands, away.

[Page 135]

COME push the bowl about;
In that we'll drown all care, my boys;
Come push the bowl about,
Drink deep, and drink it out.
The liquor's found;
'Twill raise your spirits higher, boys,
To fight, kill, or wound;
May we still be found,
Rejoicing in our sate, my boys,
On sea, or ground.

Why, messmates, why,
Should we be melancholy, boys?
Why, messmates, why,
Decreed to live or die?
What flinching? fie!
Damn care, drink on; be jolly boys,
'Tis he, you, or I,
Cold, hot, wet, or dry,
We're always bound to follow, boys,
And scorn to fly.

Let fate decide:
I mean not to upbraid ye, boys:
Whate'er betide,
No sailor shall complain;
Should next broadside,
Send us to him that made us, boys,
We're free from pain;
But if we remain,
A bottle and kind landlady
Cure all again.

LIFE is chequer'd—toil and pleasure
Fill up all the various measure.
See the crew in flannel jerkin,
Drinking, toping fli by firkins:
And as they raise the tip
To their happy lip,
On the deck is heard no other sound,
But Prithee Jack, prithee Deck,
Prithee Sam, prithee Tom,
Let the ca
 [...] go round,
Then hark to the boatswain's whistle, whistle,
Then hark to the boatswain's whistle, whistle;
Bustle, bustle, bustle, brave boys;

[Page 136] Let us stir, let us toil,
But let's drink all the while;
For labour's the price of our joys,
For labour's, &c.

Life is chequer'd—toil and pleasure
Fill up all the various measure:
Hark, the crew with sunt-burnt faces,
Chanting black-ey'd Susan's graces;
And as they raise the notes,
Thro' their rusty throats,
On the deck, &c.

Life is chequer'd—toil and pleasure
Fill up all the various measure:
Hark, the crew, their cares discarding,
With hussle cap, or with chuck-farthing.
Still in a merry pin,
Whether they lose or win,
On the deck, &c.

HOW oft at the dawn of the day,
As my vessel swam o'er the calm deep,
In my cot as I silently lay,
My eyelids were strangers to sleep;
My heart that could brave ev'ry foe,
To love was still tender and kind,
And tho' forc'd from my fair one to go,
She still was the first in my mind.

When all hands by the boatswain are bid
To right when we ride in a storm,
Still the tear in my eye is not hid,
For there I beheld her fair form;
The wave as it wash'd o'er the deck,
Tho' rude, was a friend to my dear,
When the storm had bespatter'd my check,
Unseen I could wipe off the tear.

IN storms when clouds obscure the sky,
And thunder rolls, and lightnings sly;
In midst of all these due alarms,
I think, my Sally, on thy charms,
The troubled main,
And wind and rain,
My ardent passion prove;

[Page 137] Lash'd to the helm,
Shou'd seas o'erwhelm,
I think on thee, my love.

When rocks appear on ev'ry side,
And art in vain the ship to guide;
In vary'd shapes when death appears,
The thoughts of thee my bosom cheers.
The troubled main, &c.

But shou'd the gracious powers be kind,
Dispel the gloom, and still the wind,
And waft me to thy arms once more,
Safe to my long-lost native shore.
No more the main,
I'd tempt again,
But tender joys improve,
I then with thee,
Should happy be,
And think on nought but love.

I'VE known what 'tis to face a foe,
Where death has laid his hundreds low,
What 'tis 
 [...]atigues to undergo,
That might appall our nature:
Yet never was a truth more clear,
That man's in danger, least in fear,
Whose heart can shed a generous tear,
T' relieve a fellow creature.

I've seen stout hearts of whom one wave,
Has in a moment made a grave,
Whose lives not all the world could save;
Then things affect our nature:
But not so much as when the heart.
Some ray of comfort to impart,
Swells up a generous tear to start,
T'relieve a fellow creature.

YE frolicksome sparks of the game,
Ye misers both wretched and old,
Come listen to Isaac by name,
Who once had his hatful of gold,
With seven score acres of land,
Of corn an cattle great store;
Tho' now I have none at command,
Yet still I am as gay as before.

[Page 138] Then why should we quarrel for riches,
Or any such glittering toys?
A light heart and thin pair of breeches
Go thro' the world, brave boys!

My father was clothed in leather,
My mother in sheep's russet grey,
They labour'd in all sorts of weather,
That I might go gallant and gay.
My rapier, hat mounted with feather,
A heart too as light as a cork!
What my old dad had rak'd up together,
I spread all abroad with my fork.
Then why, &c.

The merchant, who trades on the seas
For riches, you very well know,
Can never be much at his ease,
When blustering tempests do blow.
His happiness can be but small,
For fear of some terrible news:
But he that has nothing at all,
Has little or nothing to lose.
Then why, &c.

Should they make me a justice of peace,
An alderman, sheriff, or may'r,
With riches my cares would increase,
And drive me quite into despair.
I love to be jovial and free,
And quite unconcern'd in the state;
My mind is a kingdom to me;
There's danger in being too great.
Then why, &c.

My fortune is pretty well spent,
My lands, my cattle, and corn;
Yet I am as full of content
As ever since I was born.
I ne'er will be troubl'd with wealth,
My pockets are drain'd very dry;
I walk where I please for my health,
And ne'er fear wanting, not I.
Then why, &c.

Some say that old Care kill'd the cat,
And starv'd her for fear she should die;
But I will be wiser than that,
For the devil a care I'll come nigh;
But to toss off the jolly full bowl,
To drive away forrow and shife;
Here's a health to that honest brave soul
Who never took care in his life.
Then why, &c.

[Page 139]

MASONIC ANTHEMS and ODES.

ANTHEM I.

The following was composed by H— D— Esq. and sung by Brother Du Bellamy, at laying the Foundation Stone of FREE MASONS HALL, LONDON.

TO Heaven's high Architect all praise,

All praise, all gratitude be given, Da Cape.

Who deiga'd the human Soul to raise,

By mystic Secrets sprung from Heaven, Da Cape.

CHORUS. (Thrice repeated.)

Sound aloud the great JEHOVAH's Praise,

To him the Dome, the Temple raise.

ANTHEM II.

The following was set to music by Mr. Fisher, and sung by Mr. Hudson of St. Paul's Cathedral, and Others, at the Dedication of FREE MASONS HALL, LONDON.

CHORUS.

BEHOLD, how good and joyful a Thing it is,Brethren, to dwell together in Unity!

AIR.

It is like the Dew of Hermon, which fell upon the Hill of Sion: For there the LORD promised his Blessing, and Life for evermore.

Psalm 133.

RECITATIVE.

O Pray for the peace of Jerusalem! They shall prosper that Love thee.

CHORUS,

Yea, because of the House of the Lord, I will seek to do thee Good!

ANTHEM III.

GRANT us, land Heav'n, what we request;
In MASONRY let us be blest;

[Page 140] Direct us to that happy Place,
Where Friendship smiles in every Face:
Where Freedom and sweet Innocence
Enlarge the Mind, and cheer the Sense.

Enlarge the Mind, &c.

Where scepter'd Reason from her throne
Surveys the Lodge, and makes us one;
And Harmony's delightful Sway
Forever sheds ambrosial Day;
Where we blest Eden's Pleasure taste,
Whilst balmy Joys are our Repast.

Whist balmy Joys, &c.

Our Lodge the social Virtues grace,
And Wisdom's Rules we fondly trace;
Whole Nature open to our View,
Points out the Paths we should pursue.
Let us subsist to losting Peace,
And may our Happiness increase.

And may our Happiness, &c.

No prying Eye can view us here,
No Fool or Knave disturb our Cheer:
Our well-form'd Laws set Mankind free,
And give Relief to Misery.
The Poor, oppress'd with Woe and Grief,
Gain from our bounteous hands relief.

Gain from our bounteous, &c.

ANTHEM IV.

OH! Masonry our hearts inspire,
And warm us with thy sacred fire;
Make us obedient to thy laws,
And zealous to support thy cause;

For thou and virtue art the same,

And differ only in the name.

Pluck narrow notions from the mind,
And plant the love of human kind,
Teach us to feel a Brother's woe,
And feeling, comfort to bestow;

Let none unbeeded, draw the sigh,

No grief unnotic'd, past us by.

Let swelting pride a stranger be,
Our friend,—compos'd humility.
Our hands let steady justice guide,
And temp'tance at our boards preside;

Let secrecy our stops attend.

And injur'd worth our tongues defend.

Drive meanness from us,—fly deccit.
And calutnuy, and rigid hate;

[Page 141] Oh! may our highest pleasure be,
To add to man's felicity:

And may we, as thy votaries true,

Thy paths, Oh! Masonry, pursue.

ODE I.

WAKE the lute and quiv'ring strings,
Mystic truths 
Urania brings:
Friendly visitant to thee
We owe the depths of MASONRY;
Fairest of the virgin choir,
Warbling to the golden lyre,
Welcome here, thy art prevail,
Hail! divine 
Urania, hail!

Here in Friendship's sacred bow'r,
The downy-wing'd, and smiling hour,
Mirth invites and social song,
M
 [...]neless mysteries among:
Crown the bowl, and fill the glass,
To ev'ry virtue, ev'ry grace;
To the BROTHERHOOD resound
Health, and let it thrice go round.

We restore the times of old,
The blooming glorious age of gold;
As the new creation free,
Blest with gay 
Euphrosyne:
We with godlike science talk,
And with fair 
Astrea walk;
Innocence adorns the day,
Brighter than the smiles of May.

Pour the rosy wine again,
Wake a louder, louder strain;
Rapid zephyrs, as ye fly,
Waft our voices to the sky;
While we celebrate the Nine,
And the wonders of the Trine,
While the Angles sing above,
As we below, of peace and love.

ODE II.

HAIL to the CRAFT! at whose serene command,
The gentle ARTS in glad obedience stand:

[Page 142] Hail, sacred MASONRY! of source divine,
Unerring sov'reign of the unerring Line;
Whose Plumb of Truth, with never failing sway,
Makes the join'd parts of symmetry obey:
Whose magic stroke bids fell confusion cease,
And to the finish'd ORDERS give a place:
Who rears vast structures from the womb of earth,
And gives imperial cities glorious birth.

To works of art HER merit not confin'd,
SHE regulates the morals, squares the mind:
Corrects with care the sallies of the soul,
And points the tide of passions where to roll;
On Virtue's tablet marks HER moral rule,
And forms her Lodge an Universal School;
Where Nature's mystic laws unfolded stand,
And Sense and Science join'd, go hand in hand.

O may HER social rules instructive spread,
Till Trutin erect HER long neglected head!
Till thro' deceitful night SHE darts HER ray,
And beam full glorious in the blaze of day!
Till men by virtuous maxims learn to move,
Till all the peopled world HER laws approve,
And Adam's race are bound in brothers' love.

ODE III.

Written by a Member of the Alfred Lodge at Oxford, set to Music by Mr. Fisher, and was sung at the Dedication of Free-Masons' Hall, by Messrs, Vernon, Reinhold, Norris, &c.

STROPHE.

AIR.

NORRIS.

WHAT solemn sounds on holy Sinai rung,

When Heav'nly lyres, by angel-singers strung,

Accorded to the immortal lay,

That hymn'd creation's natal day.

RECITATIVE, ac [...]ompanied.

VERNON.

'Twas then the shouting sons of morn

Bless'd the great omnific word:—

"Abash'd hoarse jarring atoms heard,

"Forgot their pealing strife,

"And softly crouded into life,"

When Order, Law, and Harmony were born.

CHORUS.

The mighty master's pencil warm

Traced out the shadowy form,

And bade each fair proportion grace,

Smiling Nature's modest face.

[Page 143]

AIR.

VERNON.

Heaven's rarest gifts were seen to join,

To deck a finish'd form divine,

And fill the sov'reign artist's plan;

Th' Almighty's image stamp'd the glowing frame,

And seal'd him with the noblest name,

Archetype of beauty, MAN.

ANTISTROPHE.

SEMI-CHORUS and CHORUS.Ye spirits pure, that rous'd the tunesul throng,
And loos'd to rapture each triumphant tongue,
Again, with quick instinctive fire,
Each harmonious lip inspire:
Again bid every vocal throat
Dissolve in tender votive strain.

AIR.

VERNON.

Now while yonder white-rob'd train

Before the mystic shrine

In lowly adoration join,

Now sweep the living lyre, and swell the melting note.

RECITATIVE.

REINHOLD.

Yet ere the holy rites begin,

The conscious shrine within,

Bid your magic song impart.

AIR.

REINHOLD.

How within the wasted heart

Shook by passion's ruthless power,

Virtue trimm'd her faded flower,

To op'ning buds of fairest fruit.

EPODE.

Recitative, accompanied.

Norris.

Daughter of gods, fair Virtue, if to thee,

And thy bright sister, Universal Love,

Soul of all good, e'er flow'd the foothing harmony

Of pious gratulation—from above

To us, thy duteous votaries, impart

Presence Divine.—

AIR.

NORRIS.

The sons of antique art,

In high mysterious jubilee,

With Paean loud, and solemn rite

Thy holy step invite,

And court thy list'ning ear,

To drink the cadence clear

That swells the choral symphony.

CHORUS.

To thee, by foot profane untrod,

Their votive hands have rear'd the high abode.

[Page 144]

RECITATIVE.

REINHOLD.

Here shall your impulse kind

Inspire the tranced mind:

AIR.

REINHOLD.

And lips of truth shall sweetly tell

What heavenly deeds befit,

The soul by Wisdom's lessons smit:

What praise he claims, who nobly spurns

Gay vanities of life, and tinsel joys,

For which unpurged fancy burns.

CHORUS.

What pain he shuns, who dares be wise;

What glory wins, who dares excel.

MASONIC SONGS.

SONG I.

[Tune, Behold this fair Goblet, &c.]

YE sons of great science, impatient to learn
What's meant by a Mason you here may discorn;
He strengthens the weak, and gives light to the blind,
And the naked he cloaths, and befriends human kind.

CHORUS.
All shall yield to Masonry, all shall yield to Masonry,
Bend to thee, blest Masonry! bend to thee blest Masonry!
Matchless was he who founded thee,
And thou like him immortal shalt be,
And thou like him immortal shalt be.

He walks on the level of Honour and Truth,
And shuns the vile passions of folly and youth;
The compass and square all his actions improve,
And his ultimate object is brotherly love.

All shall yield, &c.

By feeling inspir'd he doth bounty impart,
For charity rangeth at large in his heart;
And an indigent brother reliev'd from his woes,
Feels a pleasure inferior to him who bestows.

All shall yield, &c.

The temple of Knowledge he nobly doth raise,
Supported by Wisdom, and Learning its base;
Thus rear'd and adorn'd, strength and beauty, unite
And he views the 
 [...]air structure with conscious delight.

All shall yield, &c.

With Fortitude blest, he's a stranger to fears,
And govern'd by Prudence, he cautiously steers,

[Page 145] 'Till Temperance shows him the port of Content,
And Justice unmasked, gives a sign of consent.

Ail shall yield, &c.

Thus a Mason I've drawn, and set forth to your view,
And Truth must acknowledge the picture is true;
Then members become, let's be brethren and friends,
There's a secret remaining will make us amends.

All shall yield, &c.

SONG II.

Sung by Mr. WOOLLS at the Theatre in Kingston, JAMAICA.

[Tune, From the East breaks the Morn.]

WHEN the Deity's word
Thro' all chaos was heard,
And the universe rose at the sound;
Trembling Night skulked away,
Bursting Light hail'd the day,
And the spheres did in concert resound.

Then the Grand Architect,
In omnipotence deck'd,
Into order the mass did compound;
Deem'd the Sun king of Light,
Crown'd the Moon queen of Night,
And the Earth with an atmosphere bound.

Mighty Man then was form'd,
With five senses adorn'd,
Which the noble sive orders expound:
With the birth of the Sun
Architecture begun,
And 'till Nature expires 'twill abound.

Bible, Compass, and Square,
As our ensigns we wear,
The bright symbols of Wisdom profound;
And while these are our guide,
Ev'ry mystery beside,
As a soil to our art will be found.

SONG III.

[Tune, In Infancy, &c.]

LET Masonry, from pole to pole,
Her facted laws expand,
Far as the mighty waters toll,
To wash remotest land:

[Page 146] That virtue has not left mankind,
Her social maxims prove,
For stamp'd upon the Mason's mind,
Are Unity and Love,

Ascending to her native sky,
Let Masonry increase;
A glorious pillar raised on high,
Integrity its base.
Peace adds to olive boughs, entwin'd,
An emblematic dove,
As stamp'd upon the Mason's mind
Are Unity and Love.

SONG IV.

[Tune, He comes, &c.]

UNITE, unite, your voices raise;
Loud, loudly sing Free-Masons' praise:
Spread far and wide their spotless fame,
And glory in the sacred name.

Behold, behold the upright band,
In Virtue's paths go hand in hand;
They speak no ill, they do no wrong,
And Truth is seated on their tongue.

How just, how just, are all their ways,
Superior far to common praise;
Their worth description far exceeds,
For matchless are Free-Masons' deeds.

Go on, go on, ye just and true,
Still, still the same bright paths pursue;
Th' admiring world shall on you gaze,
And Friendship's altar ever blaze.

Begone, begone, fly Discord hence,
With Party Rage and Insolence:
Sweet Peace shall bless this happy band.
And Freedom smile throughout the land.

SONG V.

[Tune, Rule Britannia.]

'ERE God the universe began,
In one rude heap all matter lay,
With wild disorder over-ran,
Nor light sent torch one glimmering ray.
Darkness brooded o'er the whole,
Confusion reign'd without controul,
Then God his awful thunder hurl'd,
And bade the elements arise;

[Page 147] In air he hung the pendant world,
And o'er it spread the azure skies;
Stars in circles caus'd 
 [...]o
 [...]n.
And in the centre six'd the sun.

Then man he call'd from out the dust,
And sorm'd him with a living soul;
Committed all things to his trust,
And made him ruler of the whole.
But ungrateful soon to Heaven
Man prov'd, and was from Eden driven.

From thence proceeded all our woes;
Nor could mankind one comfort share,
Until our order greatly rose,
And form'd another Eden here;
Where true pleasure ever reigns,
And native innocence remains.

Here Virtue all her treasures shows;
Here nothing vile can enter in;
See here the tree at knowledge grows,
Whose fruit we taste, yet free from sin;
Whilst Friendship and sweet Peace abound,
And guardian angels hover round.

SONG VI.

[Tune, Goddess of Ease.]

GENIUS of Masonry descend,
And with thee bring thy spotless train;
Do thou our sacred rites attend,
While we adore thy peaceful reign:
Bring with thee Virtue, brightest maid,
Bring Love, bring Truth, and Friendship here,
Let social Mirth too lend her aid,
To smooth the wrinkled brow of Care.

Let Charity with Goodness crown'd,
Encircled in her Heav'nly robe,
Diffuse thy blessings all around,
To ev'ry corner of the globe.
See where she comes with pow'r to bless,
Grasping in either hand a heart,
Which wounded is at man's distress,
And bleeds at ev'ry human smart.

Tho' Envy mischiefs may devise,
Tho' Falsehood be thy constant foe,
Thou Masonry shall tow'ring rise,
And sink thy adversaries low:
Thy well-built pile shall long endure,
Thro' rolling years preserve its prime;
It stands upon a tock secure,
And braves the rude assaults of Time.

[Page 148]
Ye happy few, who here extend
In perfect lines from east to west.
With fervent zeal the Lodge defend,
And lock its secrets in your breast
Since ye are met upon the Square,
Bid Love and Friendship jointly reign;
Be Peace and Harmony your care;
They form an adamantine chain.

In order see the planets move,
Directed by the hand divine;
Then imitate those lights above,
And as the sun resplendent shine:
That future Masons when they meet,
May all our glorious deeds rehearse,
And say their fathers were so great,
That they adorn'd the universe.

SONG VII.

[Tune, Attic fire.]

WHEN first a Mason I was made,
What terrors then did me invade,
Oh! how I was alarm'd:
But when the solemn scene was o'er,
My fears and terrors were no more;
I found myself unharm'd.

For since a Brother I'm become,
A member of the social room,
The scene is alter'd quite:
With pleasure now my hours pass;
With Brethren free, and temperate glass,
I spend the cheerful night.

My grateful thanks I now return,
And will with emulation burn,
Such favours to deserve:
From Masons' ancient mystic ites,
Which Truth with Friendship e'er unites,
From such I'll never swerve.

Hail Masonry! thou glorious art,
Which to thy vot'ties dost impart
Truth, Honour, Justice. Love:
Thy sacred na
 [...]ne rever'd shall stand,
In foreign climes, and distant land,
Which Slander shall not move.

SONG VIII.

[Tune, Derry Down.]

FIDELITY once had a fancy to rove,
And therefore she quitted the mansions above;

[Page 149] On earth she arrived, but so long was her tour,
Jove thought she intended returning no more.

Derry Down.

Then Mere'ry was hasten'd in quest of the dame,
And soon to this world of confusion he came;
At Paris he stopp'd, and enquir'd by chance,
But heard that Fidelity ne'er was in France.

The God then to Portugal next took his rout,
In hopes that at Lisbon he might find her out;
But there he was told she had mock'd Superstition,
And left it for sear of the Grand Inquisition.

Being thus disappointed to Holland he flew,
And strictly enquir'd of an eminent Jew;
When Mordecai readily told him thus much,
Fidelity never was lik'd by the Dutch,

Arriving at London, he hasten'd to court,
Where numbers of little great men oft resort;
Who all stood amaz'd when he ask'd for the dame,
And swore they had scarce ever heard of the name,

To West minster-Hall next the God did repair,
In hopes with Dame Justice she might be found there;
For both he enquir'd, when the court answer d thus,
The persons you mention, Sir, ne'er trouble us.

Then bending his course to the Cyprian grove,
He civilly ask'd of the young God of Love;
The urchin reply'd, could you think here to find her,
When I and my mother you know never mind her?

In one only place you can find her on earth,
The seat or true Friendship, Love, Freedom, and Mirth;
To a Lodge of Free-Masons then quickly repair,
And you need not to coubt but you'll meet with her there.

SONG IX.

[Tune Lei Ambition fire thy Mind.]

GLORIOUS Craft, which fires the mind
With sweet Harmony and Love;
Surely thou wert first design'd
A foretaste of the joys above.

Pleasures on thee always wait,
Thou reformest 
Adam's race;
Stiength and Beauty in thee meet,
Wisdom's radiant in thy sace.

Arts and Virtue now combine,
Friendship raises cheerful Mirth;

[Page 150] All united to refine
Man from grosser parts of earth.
Stately temples now arise,
And on lofty columns stand;
Mighty domes attempt the skies,
To adorn this happy land.

SONG X. The ENTERED 'PRENTICES' Song.

COME let us prepare,
We Brothers that are
Assembled on merry occasion;
Let's be happy and sing,
For life is a spring,
To a 
Free and an Accepted Mason.

The world is in pain
Our secrets to gain,
And still let them wonder and gaze on;
They ne'er can divine
The word or the sign,
Of a 
Free and an 
Accepted Mason.

'Tis 
This and 'tis 
That,
They cannot tell 
what,
Why so many great men of the nation,
Should aprons put on,
To make themselves one
With a 
Free and an 
Accepted Mason.

Great kings, dukes, and lords,
Have laid by their swords,
Our myst'ry to put a good grace on;
And thought themselves fam'd,
To have themselves nam'd
With a 
Free and an 
Accepted Mason;

Antiquity's pride
We have on our side,
And it maketh men just in their station:
There's nought but what's good
To be understood
By a 
Free and an 
Accepted Mason.

We're true and sincere,
And just to the fair,
They'll trust us on any occasion.
No mortal can more

[Page 151] The ladies adroe
Than a 
Free and an 
Accepted Mason.
Then join hand in hand,
By each Brother sirm stand,
Let's be merry and put a bright face on:
What mortal can boast
So noble a toast
As 
 [...] 
Free and 
Accepted Mason.

CHORUS 3 times repeated.

SONG XI. The FELLOW CRAFTs' Song

[Tune, Sweet are the charms, &c]

HAIL masonry! thou craft divine!
Glory of earth, from heav'n reveal'd!
Which doth with jewels precious shine,
From all but masons' eyes conceal'd!

CHOR.

Thy praises due who can rehearse,

In nervous prose, or flowing verse?

As men from brutes distinguish'd are,
A mason other men excels;
For what's in knowledge choice and rare,
But in his breast securely dwells?

CHOR.

His silent breast and faithful heart

Preserve the secrets of the art.

From scorching heat and piercing cold,
From beasts whose roar the forest rends,
From the assaults of warriors bold,
The masons' art mankind desends.

CHOR.

Be to this art due honour paid,

From which mankind receives such aid.

Ensigns of state, that feed our pride,
Distinctions troublesome and vain,
By masons true are laid aside;
Art's free-born sons such toys disdain.

CHOR.

Ennobled by the name they bear,

Distinguish'd by the badge they wear.

Sweet fellowship, from Envy free,
Friendly converse of brotherhood,
The lodge's lasting cement be,
Which has for ages firmly stood.

CHOR.

A lodge thus built for ages past

Has lasted, and shall ever last.

[Page 152]

Then in our songs be justice done

To those who have enrich'd the art,

From Adam to ^*—down,

And let each brother I ear a part.

CHOR.

Let noble masons' healths go round,

Their praise in lofty lodge resound.

SONG XII. The DEPUTY GRAND MASTER's Song.

ON, on, my dear brethren, pursue your great lecture,
And refine on the rules of old architecture:
High honour to Masons the craft daily brings
To those Brothers of Princes, and Fellows of Kings.

We drove the rude Vandals and Goths off the stage,
Reviving the art of Augustus' fam'd age:
And Vespasian destroy'd the vast temple in vain,
Since so many now rise in—'s mild reign.

The noble five orders, compos'd with such art,
Will amaze the sixt eye, and engage the whole heart;
Proportion's sweet harmony gracing the whole,
Gives our work, like the glorious creation, a soul.

Then, master and brethren, preserve your great name,
This Lodge so majestic will purchase you fame:
Rever'd it shall stand till all Nature expire,
And its glories ne'er fade till the world is on fire.

See, see, behold here what rewards all our toil,
Inspires our genius, and bids labour smile:
To our noble grand master let a bumper be crown'd,
To all masons a bumper, so let it go round.

Again, my lov'd brethren, again let it pass,
Our ancien, firm union cements with a glass;
And all the contention 'mongst Masons shall be,
Who better can work, or who better agree.

[Page 153]

MASONIC PRELUDES, PROLOGUES and EPILOGUES.

PRELUDE I.
The Curtain rises and discovers a Mason's 
Wife and Daughter, the Mother at work, the Daughter reading a play-bill.
Daugh.
BY desire of the Union Lodge!—what's this?
This Union Lodge, mamma?—
Moth.
FREE-MASONS, Miss.
Daugh.
Free-Masons, my good madam! Lack-a-day,
What sort of things (I long to know) are they?
Moth.
All women from their order they exclude.
Daugh.
Do they, mamma?—Indeed that's very rude;
Fond as I am of plays, I'll ne'er be seen
At any play bespoke by such 
vile men.
Moth
Call them not 
vile—I, Masons much approve;
And there is one whom you with fondness love:
Your father;—but behold he now appears,
And from the Lodge the Mason's badge he wears.

Enter Father 
cloathed as a Mason.
Daugh.
Papa, are you a Mason? Do tell me,
Now do, my good papa, what's Mason'ry?
Fath.
I will, my dear:—Our order is design'd,
To expand the human heart—and bless mankind,
WISDOM herself 
contriv'd the mystic Frame;
STRENGTH to 
support;—t'adorn it BEAUTY came.
We're taught, with ever grateful hearts t'adore,
The GOD OF ALL,—the UNIVERSAL POW'R;
To be good subjects;—ne'er in plots to join,
Or aught against the nation's peace design.
We're taught to calm destructive Anger's storm,
And bring rude Matter into proper form;
Always to work by the unerring SQUARE,
With zeal to serve our brethren,—be sincere,
And by our tongues let our whole hearts appear,
Lowly of mind, and meek, we're bid to be,
And ever cloathed with Humility.

[Page 154] ALL children of one Gracious Father, are,
To whom no ranks of rich and poor appear;
"He sees with equal eye, as God of all,
"A monarch perish, and a beggarfall."
We're taught our conduct by the PLUMB to try,
To make it upright to the nicest eye.
The COMPASS is presented to our eyes,
And, 
circumscribe your actions, loudly cries;
We're strictly order'd never to pass by,
When'er we see a fellow-creature lie
Wounded by sorrow;—but with hearts to go,
Which with the milk of kindness overflow,
And make a careful search each wound to find,
To pour in oil and wine,—and gently bind;
On our own beasts to place him;—to convey
Where ALL may strive to wipe his tears away.
Moth.
Go on, ye good Samaritans, to bless,
And may your generous hearts feel no distress.
Fath.
Whoe'er believes in an Almighty Cause,
And strict obedience pays to moral laws,
Of whatsoever faith or clime he be,
He shall receive a Brother's love from me.
"For modes of faith let graceless zealots fight,
"WE know he can't be 
wrong whose life is 
right.
What tho' we 
here such different roads pursue,
All upright MASONS,—all good men and true,
Shall meet together in the Lodge above,
Where their 
good names shall certain pass-words prove.
Moth.
No,—God respects not 
persons,—but will bless
Those of 
all climes who follow righteousness.
Fath.
Whene'er Philosophy—by rigid law,
And brow severe, to Virtue strives to draw,
Men are disgusted:—WE take diff'rent ways,
And make fair Virtue and her lessons please.
We at our work are rationally gay,
And Music call to tune the moral lay.
Intemp'rance never at our Lodge appears,
Nor noisy Riot e'er assail our ears;
But Pleasure, always with her bosom friends,
With Cheerfulness and Temperance there attends.
Our SECRETS (of importance to mankind)
The upright 
man, who 
secks, may always find.
Moth.
But women ever seeking, seek in vain:
Bekind enough this mysl'ry to explain.
Fath.
Tho' women from our order we exclude,
Let not that beauteous sex at once conclude
We love them not;—or think they would reveal,
What we as secrets wish them to conceal;
We 
fondly love,—and think we might impart,

[Page 155] (Sure of their faith) our secrets to their heart.
We're taught to build' gainst Vice the strongest fence,
And round us raise the wall of Innocence:
Happy! thrice happy! could we Masons see
Such 
persect workmen as they're taught to be;
Could we behold them every where appear,
Worthy the honourable badge they wear.
Thus I've explain'd, my child, our ROYAL ART.
Daugh.
I'm much obliged,—I thank you from my heart.

Ad you have said I have not understood,
But Masonry 
I'm sure is 
very good;
And if to marry 'tis my lot in life,
If you approve, I'll be a MASON'S WIFE.

PRELUDE II.
As performed at the Theatre 
in Kingston, 
before the Comedy of the School for Scandal, 
ordered by Sir Peter Parker, 
Provincial Grand Master; on the 27th of April, 1783.
Sir Timothy Tattle, 
(a Fop.) Mr. WIGNELL. Level, 
(a Master Mason,) Mr. MOORE.

Enter Level, 
followed by Sir Timothy Tattle 
speaking.
NAY, but my dear good Brother, why so nice?
Split me! but secrecy is grown a vice;
You say you've given your promise,—all a joke,
A promise, like a pye crust, should be broke.
Well me 
your secret, I'll tell you a score.
Level.
You beaux tell every thing you know, and more.
But we who walk by Reason's friendly and,
Neither betray, or fear to be betray'd.
Nor think it fit that Wisdom's sacred rules,
To all divulg'd, become the sport of fools,
With 
these, thank Heav'n, we seldom are perplex'd.
Sir Tim.
Well preach'd, good Brother, and without a text,
Tho' you won't tell the secret, I could guess,
If I knew what to make of that strange dress:
Gloves, Square, and Apron, to be sure they're spruce,
But rather seem too nice for workmen's use.
Perhaps, 
[pauses] ay that will do—you leave your spouses,
And at the lodge conspire to build card-houses.

There as at White's, your tedious vigils keep,

[Page 156] And 'tis quac'rille, or whist, that murder sleep:
Subjects perhaps of Pleasurc's golden reign,
Mirth is your business, and the word Champaigne,
Perhaps of Harmony you own the pow'r,
And sprightly glees beguile the fleeting hour;
Or else around the busy scandal flies,
And at each breath a lady's honour dies.
You mark their little foibles there and rate 'em:
Since you exclude 'em to be sure you hate 'em.
If this is all you meet for, 
this you'll see
In more perfection at the Coterie:
But in one thing we differ much,—for there
In 
all our joys, the ladies have a share:
At 
our harmonic meetings they preside,
And Love, with wine, the blissful scene divide.

There dazzling lights each wond'ring scene confound,
And 
there we seem to dance on Fairy-ground;
And 
there—
Level.
A moment's respite if you can,
And hear how widely you mistake our plan;
Know, if in splendours any joys you place,
Superior Lights our happy Lodges grace;
Serenely bright they leed no sense astray,
But point to Wisdom's throne the arduous way,
Yet think not that we pass the churlish night,
Without refreshment—
Sir Tim.
Then I'm in the right.
Level.
The moderate glass with caution we dispense,
Not to bewilder, but to cheer the sense,
We Masons aim not to be 
more than 
Men,
Music we have too—
Sir. Tim.
Then I'm right again.
Level.
Yet no loose strains excite unchasle desire,
Nor wanton sounds profane Urania's lyre:
Chaste as the muse, the lessons we are taught,
Nor cards nor scandal there deserve a thought.
Sir Tim.
No 
Cards! no 
Scandal! now you've spoilt the whole,
A very pretty meeting by my soul!
A modest set who neither game nor swear,
Egad, I fancy you'll not catch me there.
In search of joys I vanish to Soho,
But stay—I'll leave one secret e'er I go;
Whispers.
I find your 
Order suits not lads of spirit,
Level.
For ever welcome to it men of merit.
To such of every clime, of every station,
We give at once a general invitation,
As lately, Brethren, from the Lodge I came,
Warm'd with our Royal Order's purest s
 [...]ame;
Absorb'd in thought:—before my ravish'd eyes,

[Page 157] I saw the GENIUS MASONRY arise:
A curious hieroglyphic robe he wore,
And in his hand the SACRED VOLUME bore:
On one side was divine ASTRAEA plac'd,
And soft-ey'd CHARITY the other grac'd;
HUMANITY, the gen'ral friend was there,
And P
 [...]TY dropping the pathetic tear;
There too was ORDER;—there with rosy mien
Blithe TEMP'RANCE shone, and white rob'd TRUTH was seen.
There with a key suspended to his breast,
SILENCE appear'd;—his lips his singer prest:
With these, soft warbling an instructive song,
Sweet MUSIC, gaily smiling, tripp'd along.
Wild Laughter, clam'rous Noise, and Mirth ill-bred,
The brood of Folly at his presence fled,
The Genius spoke— "My son, observe my train,
"Which of my order diff'rent parts explain.
"Look up—behold the bright 
Astraea there,
"She will direct thee how to use the Square;
"
Pity will bid thee grieve, with those who grieve,
"Whilst 
Charity will prompt thee to relieve!
"Will prompt thee ev'ry comfort to bestow,
"And draw the arrow from the breast of Woe;
"
Humanity, will lead to Honour's goal,
"Give the large thought, and form the gen'rous soul;
"Will bid thee thy fraternal love expand,
"To virtue of 
all faiths,—and ev'ry land.
"
Order will kindly teach her laws of peace,
"Which discord stop, and social joys increase;
"
Temp'rance instruct thee all excess t'avoid,
"By which fair Fame is lost, and Health destroy'd;
"
Truth warn thee ne'er to use persidious art,
"And bid thy tongue be rooted in thy heart;
"
Silence, direct thee never to disclose,
"Whate'er thy brethren in thy breast repose;
"For thee shall 
Music striketh' harmonious lyre,
"And whilst she charms thy ear, Morality inspire.
"These 
all observe;—and let your conduct show,
"What real blessings, I on man below."
He said, and disappear'd:—and oh! may we,
Who wear this honour'd badge, accepted, free,
To ev'ry Grace and Virtue temples raise,
And by our useful works our Order praise,

[Page 158]

PROLOGUE I.
Spoken by Brother MOORE, 
at the Theatre 
in Kingston, JAMAICA.
THO' SLANDER follows wheresoe'er I go,
To villisy the Art she does not know,
Undaunted (Guilt alone has cause to fear)
Cloath'd with this honour'd badge, I now appear,
Owning myself a MASON;—at the name,
No guilty redness dyes my cheek with shame:
Let Slander follow;—I her darts defy,
And laugh at sncering Folly's oft-told lye.
But what our Order teaches I will show;
The lessons you 
must love—when once you know.
It always bids us, humbly to ad ore
Th' 
Almighty Architect;—by whose great pow'r
The universe was built;—to his decree,
Which Wisdom ever guides, resign'd to be.
It makes us zealous in our country's cause,
True to its prince, and faithful to its laws;
Forever bids us with the strictest care,
To act with all the world upon the Square;
Never to publish a frail neighbour's shame;
Or filch away a brother's honest name;
To be sincere;—his secrets ne'er reveal,
And him to serve with fervency and zeal.
With true 
Philanthropy it warms our breast,
With useful zeal to succour the distrest;
Bids us show Mercy when we have the pow'r,
And to the houseless stranger ope the door;
The naked with warm vestments to infold,
And guard the shiv'ring wand'rers from the cold:
To feed the hungry—bid them 
eat and live,
And to the thirsty lip the cup to give;
To visit wretches torior'd by disease,
Make smooth their bed, and pour the balm of case.
The widow's tale, the orphan's cry to hear,
And from their eyes wive off Affliction's tear;
"To know each office, each endearing tye,
"Of soft-ey'd, heav'n-descended 
Charity."
Upright it bids us walk;—to put a rein
On sensual appetites,—and Pride restrain.
It roots out narrow notions from the mind,
And plants a gen'rous Love for all Mankind;

[Page 159] Regards not modes of faith, but cries, Unite
With ALL, who work by the Nice Rule of Right;
All have one Father;—all good men and true,
In different roads, the same great end pursue.
When to the LONGE we go—that happy place,
"
There, faithful Friendship smiles in every face."
What tho' our joys are hid from public view,
They on 
reflection please and must be true.
"The Lodge, the social virtues fondly love;
"
There, Wisdom's rules we trace, and so improve:"

There We, (in moral Architecture skill'd)
Dungeons for Vice—for Virtue temples build;
"Whilst scepter'd Reason from her steady throne,
"Well pleas'd surveys us all and makes us one."

There Concord and Decorum bear the sway,
And moral Music tunes th' instructive lay:

There on a pleasing level all appear,
And Merit only is distinguished 
There:
Fraternal Love and Friendship 
There increase,
And decent Freedom reigns, and lasting Peace.

Secrets we have—but those we gladly show
To 
proper persons,—who apply to know.
Be not offended, lovely, BEAUTEOUS FAIR,
That you from MASON'S RITES excluded are;
'Tis not because we think you would reveal,
What we as MASONS wish you to conceal,
But we're afraid (and sure our fears are true)
Were you admited, LOVE would enter too;
That Jealousy might then our hearts inflame,
And to a RIVAL's turn a BROTHER's name;
Break all our bonds, annihilate one joy,
And soon our ancient order quite destroy;
Be not offended!—we your sex adore,
And pay true homage to your sov'reign pow'r.
Thus, I, the lessons which we're taught, have shown,
Which surely must be lov'd, as soon as known;
If, e'er with these our actions disagree,
Censure the MEN—but blame not Masonry:
We do not blame, when Christians go aitray,
The light that came from Heav'n, to show their way.

PROLOGUE II.

IN earliest times, as man with man combln'd,
And Science taught them, and the Arts resin'd,
The Tragic Muse arose,—and o'er the stage
Wept with feign'd grief, or rav'd with m
 [...]io rage;

[Page 160] Nor these alone her talents to convey
Th' instructive moral in a pleasing lay;
To paint fair Virtue in her loveliest guise,
Or hold the frightful mirror up to Vice:—
'Twas her's besides, by strokes of magic art,
To raise the feelings and expand the heart;
To touch those secret springs within, that move
The tender sympathy of social love;
'To melt us to compassion's sostest mood,
And rouse the slumbering soul to active good.
Whilst Nature thus by Art, her hand-maid, urest,
Refines and modulates the human breast;
Here to assist the Muse's great design,
With smiles the sons of Masonry may join.
Benignant Art! whose Heav'n-born precepts tend
In larger paths to that same glorious end.
Blest Art! in whose harmonious sweet controul,
Soul vibrates perfect unison with the soul;
Which prompts the precious drop in Pity's eye,
And lifts the graceful hand of Charity;
Enkindles Love and Friendship's sacred flame,
And gives a foe distrest a brother's name.

Ye, who this night (to mild affections prone)
Relieve our feelings, and indulge your own!
Still be your task to feel, and to relieve!
Still may you share that comfort which you give!
And whilst the Scenes our 
Shakespeare's pencil drew,
Stand thus approv'd and sanctified by you;
Whilst here his moving tale shall reach your heart,
May your good deeds abroad this truth impart!
The tear which FEIGN'D distress has taught to flow,
Will shed its lenient balm o'er REAL woe.

PROLOGUE III.THRO' many an age, amid the shock of arms,
Religion's jars, and Party's fell alarms;
Mid Folly's lies, and Slander's forged stains,
Still unsubverted, MASONRY remains;
Be not by Wisdom, and upheld by Truth,
Still feels the vigour or unfaded youth.
The mystic building stands n
 [...]d Envy's flood,
And Evil finds uself o'ercorne by Good,
And Evil finds uself o'ercorne by Good,

[Page 161] Still lock'd in secrecy the hallow'd tye;
Its generous virtues meet the public eye;
And actions now are candidly confest,
To show the hidden motives of the breast.
Hypocrisy awhile may cheat the sight,
But time will bring the snaky pest to light.
Ages have stampt a value on our art,
But 'tis our 
deeds that must convince the heart.
The Mason views yon glitt'ring orbs on high,
Fix'd in the vast o'er-arching canopy,
And from the Architect Benignant, draws
His humbler actions, less extensive laws,
Benevolence is hence his darling theme,
His waking monitor, his midnight dream.
He views the various races of mankind,
And views them always with a Brother's mind.
No modes of faith restrain his friendly zeal;
The 
world is but one larger common weal.
Yet not alone the fruit less will to bless,
The Mason's heart is open to distress;
His eye sheds Pity's dew,—his hand is near
To wipe away Affliction's starting tear;
The widow smiles; Compassion waves her wing;
The prisoner leaps for joy,—the orphans sing.
O, Brethren! still pursue the task divine;
For us hath Rectitude mark'd out the line.
Behold Humility the level bear,
And justice, steady-handed, fix the Square.
Within our 
Lodge hath Friendship plac'd her throne;
There Unity hath knit her sacred zone;
There Reason with Simplicity of soul!
There modest Mirth and Temperance guard the bowl;
There moral Music lifts her tuneful lore,
And Secrecy fits smiling at the door;
Conscious, tho' not to prying mortals giv'n,
That all our actions are approv'd by Heav'n;
Conscious, that all who aim at Virtue's goal,
Bear our essential myst'ries in their soul.
To you, ye Fair, adorn'd with ev'ry grace,
Tho' ancient custom hath forbid that place:
We know your worth, your excellence we prize,
We own your charms,—the magic of your eyes:
The wretch who loves not you,—upon 
our plan,
Forfeits the name of Mason, and of Man.

[Page 162]

EPILOGUE I.
Spoken by Mrs. MORRIS. 
at the Theatre 
in Kingston, JAMAICA.
OH! pray pardon my hurry—indeed I'm so heated!
Well—to sce with what insolence women are treated!
I protest what this white-apron'd fellow has said
Has put the whole 
Epilogue out of my head:
Good lack! 'twas the falrest, the prettiest petition
That you Masons repeal your old stale prohibition,
And grant to 
us Females an equal admission.
"What, shall they (says you brute) on our Lodges intrude,
Whom the Church, and the Bar, and the Settate exclude?"
Struck dumb at this insult, with mortification,
Strait hither I shew to give vent to my passion;
But 
here each mild Brother wears such a 
kind face,
That I feel more inclin'd in the Epilogue's place,
Thus cooly and fairly to argue the case.
To those you aver 
we have no right of common—
Like the Crown of the French, fruit forbidden to Woman:
For the 
Church you object, with (be sure) deep discerning,
That 
we fail of your meekness, your grace, and your learning;
At the 
Bar—it perhaps may be urg'd that our clack
Would confound right with wrong, or turn white into black.
You might question 
our conscience to either fee pliant,
Or doubt 
our concern for the wrongs of a client.—
In the 
Senate—when women sit 
there (you will say)
Poor ruin'd Old England may rue the sad day:
For
 [...] title, the 
Sex MAGNA CHARTA may barter,
Or the great BILL OF RIGHTS, for a ribbon or garter;
But whilst 
Man, mighty 
Man, at the Bar shall preside,
Guard the fold of the 
Church, or the state-rudder guide,
In security (doubtless) Religion shall smile,
And 
Law and sweet 
Liberty brighten our isle;
Yet, O ye select ones, who boast of your feeling,
Your charity, candour, and fair open dealing;
Ye MASONS! come now for your reasons, and tell us
Why you from your order for ever expel us!
Is it some treas'nous plot that you wickedly dive in?
No—a plot would have call'd for fine 
Female contriving.
Or is it for fear we should 
blab all we know?
No—you'll own we 
con keep 
some few secrets from you.

[Page 163] Or is it—but hold—I've a tale in my head,
('Tis a story mayhap you have formerly read)
How Sampson was wheedled and teiz'd by his 
wise,
'Till he gave up his 
secret, his 
strength, and his life.
Alas! if like Dalilah, thus we should court ye,
'Till our PIANO at last charm you out of your FORTE;
Who knows, (and I fairly acknowledge my fears)
But like her we may bring an old house o'er our ears?
Then be warn'd, O ye Fair! curiosity cease,
Let us leave them their myst'ries and secrets in peace;
And with candour confess the Men most to our mind.
Whom Secrecy, Truth, and Fidelity bind.—
The fruits of their UNION our blessing shall prove,
For the heart that buds Friendship 
must blossom with Love.

EPILOGUE II.IN days of yore, 'tis said the merry Greek,
Old Aesop,—held, that birds and beasts could speak;
Owls moraliz'd,—Jack daws could reason finely,
Horses neigh'd sense,—Apcs chatter'd most divinely.
Lucky it is for you this gift is lost,
A Rat might else have lurk'd beneath a post;
Tho' you expel us Women from your house,
You could not banish each insidious Mouse:
A Fly might then have whisper
 [...]d to the gale;
A tiny Cricket might have told the tale;
Happy the Women! happy were the Men!
You could have kept no secrets from us then.
Yet can 
our days some prodigies afford,
The Cock-lane ghost scratch'd on the vocal board;
Fanny 
 [...]visited the upper air,
And ca
 [...]t all London by the list'ning ear.
The Stockwell conj'rer his enchantments brew'd,
Saucers and cups, with motive powers endu'd;
The active glasses nimbly danc'd the hays;
Th' unwieldy dresser, and the wooden trays
Jump'd rigadoons!—the pudding piping hot
Came tumbling, rolling, bouncing from the pot.
Now, my good sirs, if all these facts 
have been;
Why may not greater miracles be seen?
Things that can 
move against the course of Nature,
May likewise 
speak.—you grant it,—
ergo datur.
O! should I learn the secret from 
your bowl,
Would it not vex you to the very soul?
What say st thou, honest bowl—when met together,
What's the chief subject of discourse?—the weather!—

[Page 164] True Englishmen's discourse—'tis cold to-night—
'Tis very cold indeed; you're right, sir, right.
Or is it scandal, honest bowl?—Ah me!
I ask your pardon, that's the vice of tea.
Or is it polities? the Boston boys
Tarring and feathering, rioting and noise!
But, serious now,—all raillery apart;
I honour and esteem you from my heart;
Knowing yourselves, you scorn the dead-born jest;
Yours is the feeling mind, the virtuous breast.
Should the laugh echo from the weak and vain,
The laugh of 
Folly cannot fix a stain.
Your souls attend to Pity's voice sincere;
Friendship and mild Affection harbour there.
Your wives, your children, will approve the lay;
And conscious own the truth of what I say.
On you the Fair with safety may rely;
Masons exist but by Fidelity.
Accept this Eulogy upon your Art,
The humble tribute of a grateful heart.
FINIS.

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