Yet ftill love on; and never fear, But you and conftancy will prove And make me, though in absence, love. 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, Ah! fair-one, why to me fo coy? 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! 'Tis true they long did me deny, At laft, my wishes to fulfil, They did their power refign; I faw her; but I wish I ftill 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, 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, Jove the power knew of her charms, 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, Let cruel fate us ftill purfue, There's nought more worth my caring. 'Twas fhe alone, could calm my foul, Her eyes my trouble could control, Farewel, Farewel, ye brooks; no more along But I by death an end will give SOME XXVII. OME kind angel, gently flying, Tell Corinna, I am dying, Tell Corinna, fince we parted, Tell her how her lover, mourning, Tell her too, not distant places, Join'd with time and change of paces, XXVIII. NELLY. WHILST others proclaim This nymph, or that swain, Deareft Nelly the lovely I'll fing; I'll her beauties rehearse, Which lovers can't think an ill thing. And black as a coal is her hair. 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. |