I'd fhun her paths, upon thy mouth to dwell, Tabiiba. For secret love can never give offence. True love is nature unrefirain'd by low. Let ceremony bind the worldly pair; This tenet all the holy lect allows; Sisters çsteem the brethren's words sincere. So Tabitha took carnell of a spouse. ELEGI E S. Ρ Α Ν Τ Η Ε Α. Thy bosom ne'er a tender thought confeft, LONG had Panthea felt love's secret smart, Sure Itubborn flint has arm'd thy cruel breast; And hope and fear alternate rul'd her heart; But hardest flints are worn by frequent rains, Consenting glances had her flame confest. And the soft drops dissolve their folid veins ; In woman's eyes her very soul's expreft. While thy relentlets hcart more hard appears, Perjur'd Alexis saw the blushing maid, And is not soften'd by a ficod of tears. He saw, he swore, he conquer'd, and betray'd. Ah, what is love! Panthea's joys are gone, Another love now calls him from her arms, Her liberry, her peace, her reason, flown! His fickle heart another beauty warms; And when I view me in the watery glass, Those oaths, oft'whisper'd in Panthea's ears, I find Panthea now, not what she was. He now again to Galatea swears. As northern winds the new-blown roses blast, Beneath a beech th' abandon'd virgin laid, And on the ground their fading ruins caft; In grateful folitude enjoys the shade ; [Atrains, As fudden blights corrupt the ripen'd grain, There with faint voice me breath'd these moving And of its verdure spoil the mournful plain; While sighing zephyrs shar'd her amorous pains. So hapless love on blocming features preys, Pale fettled sorrow hangs upon my brow, So haplets love destroys our peaceful days. There, spite of all thy perjur d vows, I find And pleasingly deludes me in my dream; To my fad soul the dear deceit denies. Worn out with watching, sullen with despair, Why does the sun dart forth its cheerful rays ? And see each eye swell with a gufhing tear; Why do the woods retound with warbling lays ? Could you behold me on this mofly bed, Why does the role her grateful fragrance yield, From my pale check the lively crimson fled, And yellow cowslips paint the smiling field? Which in my foster hours you oft' have sworn, Why do the freams with murmuring music fow, With rosy beauty far outbluth'd the morn; And why do groves their friendly Made bestow ? Could you untouch'd this wretched object beas, Let sable clouds the cheerful fun deface, And would not loft Panthea claim a tear? (steal, Let mournful filence feize the feather'd race ; You could not, fure-tears from your eyes would No more, ye soses, grateful fragrance yield, And unawares thy tender soul reveal. Droop, droop, ye cowslips, in the blasted field; Ah no! thy foul with cruelty is fraught, No more, ye streams, with murmuring music No tenderness disturbs thy favage thought ; flow, Sooner shall tigers spare the trembling lambs, And let not groves a friendly fade below: And wolves with pity hear their bleating dams; With sympathifing grief let nature mourn, Sooner shall vultures from their quarry fly; And never know the youthful spring's return Than falíc Alexis for Panthca ligh. ş And fall I never more Alexis see? Didlt thou not then with oaths thy passion prove,. Then what is spring, or grove, or stream, to me? And with an awful trembling, say--Love? (pain ; Why sport the skipping lambs on yonder plain ? “ Ah, faithless youth! too well you saw my How could'st thou thus, ungrateful youth, deTheir happier life is ignorant of love. ceive? Oh, lead me to some melancholy cave, How could I thus, unguarded maid, believe? To lall my forrows in a living grave; Sure thou canst well recal that fatal night, From the dark rock where dashing waters fall, When subtle love first enter'd at my fight : And creeping ivy hangs the craggy wall ; When in the dance I was thy partner chose, Where I may waste in tears my hours away, Gods! what a rapture in my bosom rose ! And never know the seasons or the day? My trembling hand my sudden joy confess'd, Die, die, Panthea-Ay this hateful grove; My glowing cheeks a wounded heart express'd; For what is life without the swain I love? My looks spoke love ; while you, with answering eyes, [faid, Think, Daphnis, think what tender things you AN ELEGY. Think what confusion all my soul betray'd. Now Phæbus rose, and with his early beams You call'd my graceful presence Cynthia's air; Wak'd Numbering Delia from her pleasing dreams; And, when I sung, the syrens charm'd your ear: Her wishes by her fancy were supply'd, My fame, blown up by flattery, stronger grew; And in her sleep the nuptial knot was ty'd. A gale of love in every whisper few. {" pain; With secret joy the faw the morning ray Ah, faithless youth! too well you saw my Chequer the floor, and through the curtains play; “ For eyes the language of the soul explain.” The happy morn that shall her blifs complete, Whene'er I dress’d, my maid, who knew my And all her rivals' envious hopes defeat. flame, In haste the rose, forgetful of her prayers, Cherish'd my passion with thy lovely name; That thy dear image rose before my view; She dwelt whole hours upon thy shape and mien, Some round her neck a circling lighe display, And wounded Delia's fame, to sooth my spleen ; Some in her hair diffule a trembling ray; When she beheld me at the name grow pale, The filver knot o'erlooks the Mechlin lace, Strait to thy charms she chang'd her artful tale; And adds becoming beauties to her face ; And, when thy matchless charms were quite run Brocaded flowers o'er the gay mantua shine, o'er, And the rich says her taper shape confine; I bid her tell the pleasing tale once more. Like death, his nuptials all my hope remove, Before the priest the folemn vows are paid ; And ever part me from the man I love. [“ pain ; This day, which ends at once all Delia's cares, " Ah, faithless youth! too well you saw my Shall (well a thousand eyes with secret tears. “ For eyes the language of the foul explain." Cease, Araminta, 'tis in vain to grieve, O might I by my cruel fate be thrown, Can't thou from Hymen's bonds the youth re In some retreat far from this hateful town! trieve? Vain dress and glaring equipage, adieu ! Disdain his perjuries, and no longer mourn : Let happier nymphs thole empty shows pursue. Recal my love, and find a sure return. Me let fome nelancholy lade surround, But Nill the wretched maid no comfort knows, Where not the print of human (tep is found. And with resentment cherishes her woes: In the gay dance my feet no more shall move, Alvne he pines, and, in these mournful strains, But bear me faintly through the linely grove. Of Daphnis' vows, and her own fate complains : No more these hands fall o'er the fpinner bound, Was it for this I sparkled at the Play, And from the Deeping Itrings call forth the found: And loiter'd in the Ring whole hours away? Music, adieu! farewell, Italian airs When if thy chariot in the circle frone, The croaking raven now shall footh my cares. Our mutual passion by our looks was known : On fonie old ruir, lost in thought, I rell, Through the gay crowd my watchful glances few, And think how Araminta once was hleít; Where'er I pafs, thy grateful eyes pursue. (pain; There o'er and o'er thy letters I perose, Ah, faithless youth! too well you saw my And all my grief in one kind senterice lose ; * For eyes the language of the soul explain Some tendir Ire by chance my woe beguiles, Think, Daphnis, think that scarce five days are And on my cheek a short liv'd pleature smiles. fled, (you said; , Why is this dawn of joy? few, tears. again! Since (О false tongue !) those treacherous things Vain are there oaths, and all these vows are vain ; How did you praise my shape and graceful air : Daphnis, alas she Gordian krot has tyd; And wonian thinks all compliments fincere. Nur force nor cunning can th band divide (plain, Didit thou not then in rapture speak ihy flame, " Ah, faithless youth fi ce {ves the foui exAnd in soft fighs brcathe Araminta's name? Why knew Inot thac astful tongue could feign." Her Mechlin pinners, rent, the door bestrow, AN ELEGY ON A LAP-DOG. And her torn fan gives real signs of woe. Hence fuperftition, that tormenting guest, Suock's fate I mourn ; poor Shock is now no Thar haunts with fancy'd fears the coward breat; more; No dread events upon this face atcend, Ye muses, mourn; ye chambermaids, deplore. Stream eyes no more, no more thy trelles rend. Unhappy Shock! yet more unhappy fair, Though certain omens oft forewarn a state, Doom'd to survive thy joy and only care ! And dying lions show the monarch's fate; Thy wretched fingers now no more shall deck, Why should such fears bid Cælia's forrow rise? And tie the favourite ribband round his neck ; For, when a lap dog falls, no lover dies. No more thy hand shall smooth his glossy hair, Cease, Cælia, ceale; restrain thy flowing tears ; And comb the wavings of his pendent ear. Some warmer passion will dispel thy cares. Yet cease thy flowing grief, forsaken maid; In man you'll find a more substantial bliss, All mortal pleasures in a moment fade; More grateful toying, and a sweeter kiss. Our surelt hope is in an hour destroy'd; He's dead. Oh lay him gently in the ground! And love, best gift of Heaven, not long enjoy'd. And may his tomb be by this verse renown'd: Methinks I fee her frantic with despair, “ Here Shock, the pride of all his kind, is laid : Her streaming eyes, wrung hands, and flowing “ Who fawn'd like man, but ne'er like man behair; tray'd." SONGS AND BALLADS. SWEET WILLIAM'S FAREWELL TO BLACK-EYED SUSAN. If to fair India's coast we sail, Thy eyes are seen in diamonds bright, Thy kin is ivory so white. Let not my pretty Susan mourn; William shall to his dear return. The fails their swelling bosom spread; They kiss’d, the figh’d, he hung his head. All in the Downs the fleet was moorid, The Itreamers waving in the wind, Oh! where shall I my true love find? Rock'd with the billow to and fro, He figh’d, and cast his eyes below : Shuts close his pinions to his breast And drops at once into her nest. My vows shall ever true remain; We only part to meet again. Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind. la every port a mistress find : Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee fo, Pur thou art present whereloc'er I go, A BALLAD, 'Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind; All on a rock reclin'd. She cast a wistful look; That trembled o'er the brook. And nine long tedious days. Why didk thou trust the seas; Thus the fair to fighs gave way, Nymph, ah, cease thy sorrow. Though curft fortune frown to-night, This odious town can give delight, If you win to-morrow. DAMON AND CUPID. A SONG. Cease, cease, thou cruel ocean, And let my lover rest: To that within my breast? Sees tempefts in despair; To lofing of my dear? Where gold and diamonds grow, You'd 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 Should hideous rocks remain? No eyes the rocks discover, That lurk beneath the deep, To wreck the wandering lover, And leave the maid to weep. All melancholy lying, Thus wail'd the for her dear; Repay'd each blast with sighing, Each billow with a tear; When o'er the white wave stooping, His floating corpse she spy'd; Then, like a lily drooping, She bow'd her head, and dy'd. The sun was now withdrawn, The shepherds home were fpid; The moon wide o'er the lawn Her silver mantle spread; When Damon stay'd behind, And faunter'd in the grove. Will ne'er a nymph be kind, And give me love for love? Oh! those were golden hours, When love, devoid of cares, In all Arcadia's bowers Lodg'd swains and nymphs by pairs; But now from wood and plain Flies every sprightly lass; No joys for me remain, In thades, or on the grass. The winged boy draws near, And thus the swain reproves: While beauty revel'd here, My game lay in the groves; At court I never fail To scatter round my arrows; Men fall as thick as hail, And maidens love like sparrows Then, swain, if me you need, Straight lay your sheep-hook down; Throw by your oaten reed, And haste away to town. None asks where Cupid dwells; DAPHNIS AND CHLOE. THE LADY'S LAMENTATION. A BALLAD. A SONG PHYLLIDA, that lov'd to dream Sighid on velvet pillow. Water and a willow! Love in cities never dwells, He delights in rural cells Which sweet woodbine covers. What are your assemblies then? There, 'cis true, we see more men; But much fewer lovers. Oh, how chang'd the prospec grows ! Flocks and herds to fops and beaux, Coxcombs without number! And whole nights at ombre. Ev'n of our own mothers; What we lent to others. Heightens defamation. And lose my reputation? Daphnis stood pensive in the shade, With arms across, and head rectin'd; And lighs reliev'd his love-lick mind: My Chloe is unkind. 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; Bat 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-Itrings move. 'Twas not the nightingale that sung; Look ye, mother, she cry'd, No. 'Tis my Chloe's Tweeter tongue. .You inftrud me in pride, Hark, hark, what says my love? And men by good manners are woni. She who trifles with all Is less likely to fall Than the who but trifles with one. Pr’ythee, Molly, be wise, Left by sudden surprise *Twas not my heart thy love deny'd; Love should single in every vein: Come back, dear youth, again. Take a shepherd for life, And when once you're a wife, You safely may trifle again. Molly smiling reply'd, Then I'll soon be a bride; And halty from his hold withdrew. 'Twas fear alone, thou simple swain ; Old Roger has gold in his chest. Then hadtt thou preft my hand again, But I thought all you wives Chose a man for your lives, My heart had yielded too! And trified no more with the rest. 'Tis true, thy tuneful reed I blam'd, MOLLY MOG: Or, the Fair Maid of the Inn. A Ballad Says my uncle, I pray discover Much, much thy music I approve; What hath been the cause of your woes; Yet break thy pipe, for more I love, Why you pine and you whine like a lover! Much more to hear thee (peak. -I have seen Molly Mug of the Role. My heart forbodes that I'm betray'd, O nephew! your grief is but folly, Daphnis, I fear, is ever gone ; In town you may find better prog: Last night with Delia's dog he play'd, Half a crown there will get you a Molly, Live by such trifles first comes on. A Molly much better than Mog. Now, now, dear shepherd, come away, I know that by wits 'tis recited My tongue would now my heart obey. That women are best at a clog; Ah, Chloe, thou art won ! But I am not so easily frighted The youth stepp'd forth with hasty pace, From loving of sweet Molly Mog. And found where withing Chloe lay; The school-boy's desire is a play-day; Shame sudden lighten'd in her face, The schoolmaster's joy is to flog; Confus'd, she knew not what to say. The milk-maid's delight is on May-day; Ac laft, in broken words the cry'd; But mine is on (weet Molly Mog. To-morrow you in vain had try'd, Will-a-wisp leads the traveller gadding (bog: But I am loft to-day! Through ditch, and through quagmire, and But no light can set me a-madding Like the eyes of my sweet Molly Mog. Por guineas in other men's breeches Your gamefters will palm and will cog; But I envy them none of their riches, At the close of the day, So I may win sweet Molly Mog. When the bean-flower and hay The heart when half wounded is changing, Breath'd odours in every wind; It here and there leaps like a frog; Love enliven'd the veins But my heart can never be ranging, of the danisels and swains; 'Tis so fix'd upon sweet Molly Mog. Each glance and each action was kind. Who follows all ladies of pleasure, Molly, wanton and free, In pleasure is thought'but a hog; Kiss'd, and fat on each knee, All the lex cannot give so good measure Fond ecstasy swam in her eyes. Of joys, as my sweet Molly Mog. See, thy mother is near; I feel I'm in love to distraction, Hark! the calls thee to hear My senses all loft in a fog; What age and experience advise. And nothing can give fatisladion, But thinking of sweet Molly Mog. * This ballad was written on an ina keeper's daugt. If a kiss he obtain, ter at Oakingban in berkjoire, mobo in iver youth was a She returns it again : celebrated beuty and to.2,'t : foe lived to a very atoarced What follows, you need not be told. age, dying fo lately as the month of Mareb, 1766. A SONG. |