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Yet ftill love on; and never fear,

But you and conftancy will prove
Enough my present flame to bear,

And make me, though in absence, love.
For, though your prefence fate denies,
I feel, alas the killing fmart;
And can, with undifcerned eyes,
Behold your picture in my heart.

XXIII. Set by Mr. DE FES CH.

N vain, alas! poor Strephon tries

IN

To eafe his tortur'd breast;

Since Amoret the cure denies,
And makes his pain a jest.

Ah! fair-one, why to me fo coy?
And why to him so true,
Who with more coldness flights the joy,
Than I with love purfue?

Die then, unhappy lover! die;

For, fince the gives thee death, The world has nothing that can buy A minute more of breath.

Yet, though I could your scorn outlive,

'Twere folly; fince to me

Not love itself a joy can give,

But, Amoret, in thee.

XXIV. Set

XXIV. Set by Mr. DE FESCH.

WELL! I will never more complain,

Or call the Fates unkind;

Alas! how fond it is, how vain!
But felf-conceitedness does reign
In every mortal mind.

'Tis true they long did me deny,
Nor would permit a fight;
I rag'd; for I could not efpy,
Or think that any harm could lie
Difguis'd in that delight.

At laft, my wishes to fulfil,

They did their power refign;

I faw her; but I wish I ftill
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 beft which they think fit,

Without the least regret.

XXV. Set by Mr. C. R.

HLOE beauty has and wit,

CHLOE

And an air that is not common;

Every charm in her does meet,
Fit to make a handfome woman.
VOL. II.

U

But

But we do not only find

Here a lovely face or feature; 'For the 's merciful and kind, Beauty's anfwer'd by good-nature.

She is always doing good,

Of her favours never sparing,
And, as all good Chriftians fhould,
Keeps poor mortals from defpairing.

Jove the power knew of her charms,
And that no man could endure them,
So, providing 'gainst all harms,

Gave to her the power to cure them.

And 'twould be a cruel thing,

When her black eyes have rais'd defire, Should the not her bucket bring,

And kindly help to quench the fire.

XXVI.

SINCE, Moggy, I mun bid adieu,
How can I help despairing ?

Let cruel fate us ftill purfue,

There's nought more worth my caring.

'Twas fhe alone, could calm my foul,
When racking thoughts did grieve me;

Her eyes my trouble could control,
And into joys deceive me.

Farewel,

Farewel, ye brooks; no more along
Your banks mun I be walking:
No more you'll hear my pipe or fong,
Or pretty Moggy's talking.

But I by death an end will give
To grief, fince we mun fever;
For who can after parting live,
Ought to be wretched ever.

SOME

XXVII.

OME kind angel, gently flying,
Mov'd with pity at my pain,

Tell Corinna, I am dying,
Till with joy we meet again.

Tell Corinna, fince we parted,
I have never known delight:
And fhall foon be broken-hearted,
If I longer want her fight.

Tell her how her lover, mourning,
Thinks each lazy day a year;
Curfing every morn returning,
Since Corinna is not here.

Tell her too, not distant places,
Will fhe be but true and kind,

Join'd with time and change of paces,
E'er shall shake my conftant mind.

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XXVIII. NELLY.

WHILST others proclaim

This nymph, or that swain,

Deareft Nelly the lovely I'll fing;
She shall grace every verse,

I'll her beauties rehearse,

Which lovers can't think an ill thing.
Her eyes fhine as bright
As ftars in the night,
Her complexion divinely is fair;
Her lips, red as a cherry,
Would a hermit make merry,

And black as a coal is her hair.
Her breath, like a rofe,
Its fweets does disclose,
Whenever you ravish a kiss;
Like ivory inchas'd,

Her teeth are well-plac'd,

An exquifite beauty fhe is.

Her plump breasts are white,

Delighting the fight,

There Cupid difcovers her charms;

Oh! fpare then the reft,

And think of the best:

'Tis Heaven to die in her arms.

She's blooming as May,

Brifk, lively, and gay,

The Graces play all round about her;

She 's prudent and witty,

Sings wondrously pretty,

And there is no living without her.

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