But why, dull God! do I of thee complain?

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Thou didst not cause, nor canft thou ease, my pain. Forgive what my distracting grief has said,

I own unjustly I thy floth upbraid;

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For oft' I have thy proffer'd aid repell'd,
And my reluctant eyes from reft withheld,
Implor'd the Muse to break thy gentle chains,
And fung with Philomel my nightly strains :
With her I fing, but cease not with her fong,
For more enduring woes my lays prolong.
The morning lark to mine accords his note,
And tunes to my distress his warbling throat;
Each fetting and each rifing fun I mourn,
Wailing alike his absence and return:
And all for thee-What had I well-nigh faid?
Let me not name thee, thou too charming Maid! 40
No-as the wing'd musicians of the grove,

Th' affociates of my melody and love,
In moving founds alone relate their pain,
And not with voice articulate complain;
So fhall my Muse my tuneful forrows fing,
And lofe in air her name from whom they fpring.

O may no wakeful thoughts her mind moleft,
Soft be her flumbers, and fincere her reft :

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For her, O Sleep! thy balmy fweets prepare;

The peace I lofe for her to her transfer.

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Hufh'd as the falling dews, whofe noiseless show'rs Impearl the folded leaves of ev'ning flow'rs,

H

Steal on her brow; and as those dews attend,
Till warn'd by waking day to reafcend,

So wait thou for her morn; then gently rife,
And to the world reftore the daybreak of her eyes. 36

TO A CANDLE:

THOU watchful Taper! by whose filent light
I lonely pass the melancholy night;
Thou faithful Witnefs of my fecret pain!
To whom alone I venture to complain,
O learn with me my hopeless love to moan;
Commiferate a life fo like thy own.

S

Like thine, my flames to my destruction turn,
Wafting that heart by which supply'd they burn:
Like thine, my joy and fuff'ring they display,
At once are figns of life and symptoms of decay: 10
And as thy fearful flames the day decline,
And only during night presume to shine,
Their humble rays not daring to aspire
Before the fun, the fountain of their fire;

So mine with confcious fhame and equal awe,

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To fhades obfcure and folitude withdraw,

Nor dare their light before her eyes disclose,

From whose bright beams their being first arose. 18

SONGS.

SONG I.

I.

I LOOK'D, and I figh'd, and I wish'd I could speak,
And very fain would have been at her;

But when I ftrove moft my fond paffion to break,
Still then I faid leaft of the matter.

II.

I swore to myself, and refolv'd I would try
Some way my poor heart to recover;

But that was all vain, for I fooner could die
Than live with forbearing to love her.

III.

Dear Celia! be kind then; and fince your own eyes
By looks can command adoration,

Give mine leave to talk too, and do not despise
Those oglings that tell you my paffion.

IV.

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12

We'll look, and we 'll love, and tho' neither fhould

The pleasure we 'll still be pursuing;

[fpeak,

make

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And fo, without words, I don't doubt we may

A very good end of this wooing.

SONG II.

FALSE tho' fhe be to me and love,

I'll ne'er pursue revenge;

For ftill the charmer I approve,
Tho' I deplore her change.

In hours of blifs we oft' have met,
They could not always laft;
And tho' the prefent i regret,
I'm grateful for the past.

SONG. III.

I.

TELL me no more I am deceiv'd,
That Cloe's falfe and common;
I always knew (at least believed)
She was a very woman:

As fuch I lik'd, as fuch carefs'd;
She ftill was conftant when poffefs'd,
She could do more for no man.

II.

But, oh! her thoughts on others ran,
And that you think a hard thing;
Perhaps fhe fancy'd you the man,
And what care I one farthing?

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You think he's falfe, I'm fure fhe 's kind;

I take her body, you her mind,

Who has the better bargain?

SONG IV. IN DIALOGUE,

FOR TWO WOMEN.

I LOVE, and am belov’d again,

Strephon no more shall figh in vain ;
I've try'd his faith, and found him true,
And all my coyness bid adieu.

2. I love, and am belov'd again,
Yet ftill my Thyrfis fhall complain;
I'm fure he's mine while I refuse him,
But when I yield I fear to lose him.

1. Men will grow faint with tedious fasting. 2. And both will tire with often tafting, When they find the bliss not lafting.

1. Love is complete in kind poffeffing. 2. Ah no! ah no! that ends the bleffing.

CHORUS OF BOTH.

"Then let us beware how far we confent;

"Too foon when we yield to late we repent ;

"Tis ignorance makes men admire;

"And granting defire

"We feed not the fire,

"But make it more quickly expire."

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