The HEROINES, or Modern Memoirs. By the Same. 'N ancient times, fome hundred winters past, IN When British dames, for confcience fake, were chaste, If fome frail nymph, by youthful paffion fway'd, From Virtue's paths unhappily had stray'd: Veil'd in fome convent made her peace with heaven, Not fo of modern wh-res th' illustrious train, 1751. The The PARTING. By the Same. Written fome Years after Marriage. THE I. HE rifing fun through all the grove My Lucy fmil'd, and talk'd of love, And every thing look'd gay. II. But oh! the fatal hour was come My Lucy then through grief was dumb, III. Now far from her and bliss I roam, All nature wears a change: The azure sky seems wrapt in gloom, And every place looks strange. IV. Those Ív. Those flow'ry fields, this verdant scene, With fad contrast increase my spleen And make me loath the fpring. Memory! celeftial maid ! Who glean'ft the flow'rets cropt by time; And, fuffering not a leaf to fade, Preferv'ft the bloffoms of our prime ; Bring, bring those moments to my mind II. And bring that garland to my fight, With which my favour'd crook fhe bound; And bring that wreath of rofes bright Which then my feftive temples crown'd. And to my raptur'd ear convey The gentle things fhe deign'd to say. III. And sketch with care the Mufe's bow'r, Nor yet omit one reed or flow'r, That shines on Cherwell's verdant fide; If fo thou may'st those hours prolong, When polish'd Lycon join'd my fong. IV. The fong it 'vails not to recite But fure, to footh our youthful dreams, Those banks and ftreams appear'd more bright Than other banks, than other streams: Or by thy foftening pencil fhewn, Affume they beauties not their own? V. And paint that sweetly vacant icene, I breath'd in verfe one cordial vow; Dull to the fenfe of new delight, On thee the drooping Mufe attends; As fome fond lover, robb'd of fight, On thy expreffive pow'r depends; Nor would exchange thy glowing lines, To live the lord of all that shines. VII. But let me chase those vows away, Which at ambition's fhrine I made; Nor ever let thy skill display Those anxious moments, ill repaid: Bring me the bells, the rattle bring, When |