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While fretting I must lie alone,
Cursing the powers divine,

That undeservedly have thrown
A pearl unto a swine.

Then, Phillis, heal my wounded heart,
My burning passion cool;

Let me at least in thee have part
With thy insipid fool.

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R*HILLIS, give this humour over,
} We too long have time abus'd;
§ I shall turn an arrant rover,
If the favour's still refus'd.

Faith ! 'tis nonsense out of measure,
Without ending thus to see

Women forc'd to taste a pleasure
Which they love as well as we.

Let not pride and folly share you,
We were made but to enjoy;

Ne'er will age or censure spare you,
E'er the more for being coy.

Never fancy time's before you,
Youth, believe me, will away;

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Then, alas! who will adore you,
Or to wrinkles tribute pay?

All the swains on you attending
Show how much your charms deserve :

But, miser like, for fear of spending,
You amidst your plenty starve. 20

While a thousand freer lasses,
Who their youth and charms employ,

Though your beauty theirs surpasses,
Live in far more perfect joy.

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o ASTE, my Nannette, my lovely maid, * Haste to the bower thy swain has made; § For thee alone I made the bower, And strew'd the couch with many a flower. None but my sheep shall near us come: Venus be prais’d l my sheep are dumb. Great god of love take thou my crook, To keep the wolf from Nannette's flock. Guard thou the sheep, to her so dear; My own, alas ! are less my care. lo But, of the wolf if thou'rt afraid, Come not to us to call for aid; For with her swain my love shall stay, Though the wolf prowl, and the sheep stray.

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#INCE by ill fate I’m forc'd away,
And snatch'd so soon from those
dear arms;
Against my will I must obey,
And leave those sweet endearing charms.

Yet still love on; and never fear,
But you and constancy will prove

Enough my present flame to bear,
And make me, though in absence, love.

For, though your presence fate denies,
I feel, alas ! the killing smart; 10

And can with undiscerned eyes
Behold your picture in my heart.

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Ah! fair one, why to me so coy?
And why to him so true,

Who with more coldness slights the joy,
Than I with love pursue?

Die then, unhappy lover ! die;
For, since she gives thee death, 10

The world has nothing that can buy
A minute more of breath.

Yet, though I could vour scorn outlive,
'Twere folly; since to me
Not love itself a joy can give,
But, Amoret, in thee.

XXIV.

SET BY MR. DE FESCH.

#ELL! I will never more complain,
Or call the fates unkind;
Alas ! how fond it is, how vain
* But self-conceitedness does reign
In every mortal mind.

'Tis true they long did me deny,
Nor would permit a sight;

I rag'd; for I could not espy,

Or think that any harm could lie
Disguis'd in that delight. 10

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At last, my wishes to fulfill,
They did their power resign;

I saw her; but I wish I still

Had been obedient to their will,
And they not unto mine.

Yet I by this have learnt the wit,
Never to grieve or fret:

Contentedly I will submit,

And think that best which they think fit, Without the least regret. 20

XXW.
SET BY MR. C. R.
And an air that is not common;

| Every charm in her does meet,
Fit to make a handsome woman.

But we do not only find
Here a lovely face or feature;

For she's merciful and kind,
Beauty's answer'd by good nature.

She is always doing good,
Of her favours never sparing, 10

And, as all good christians should,
Keeps poor mortals from despairing.

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