To buy the gems of India's coaft
What wealth, what riches wou'd fuffice? Yet India's fhore cou'd never boast
The luftre of thy rival eyes;
For there the world too cheap must prove,
Can I then buy? who have but love.
Oh, Silvia, fince nor gems nor ore
Can with thy brighter felf compare,
Be juft, as fair, and value more,
Than gems and ore a heart fincere :
Let treasure meaner beauties move;
Who pays thy worth, must pay in love.
CAN life be a bleffing,
Or worth the poffeffing,
Can life be a bleffing, if love were away?
Ah no! tho' our love all night keep us waking,
And though he torments us with cares all the day,
Yet he fweetens, he fweetens our pains in the taking, There's an hour at the laft, there's an hour to repay.
In every poffeffing
The ravishing bleffing,
In every poffeffing the fruit of our pain,
Poor lovers forget long ages of anguish,
Whate'er they have fuffer'd and done to obtain,
"Tis a pleasure, a pleafure to figh and to languish, When we hope, when we hope to be happy again,
N country quarters still confin'd,
From Berwick I do write;
Why can't my body, like my mind,
To Silvia take its flight?
Oh, Silvia, if a wifh cou'd do,
My foul fhou'd quarter foon with you.
Whilft I ftay here my love-fick heart
With you is left behind;
Alas! why fhou'd our bodies part,
Since both our fouls are join'd?
My body to my prince is due ;
My foul its orders takes from you.
My blooming hopes of seeing you
Are wither'd in their prime;
Confin'd to stay for a review;-
Oh, why was this the time!
For what's a dull review to me,
If Silvia is not there to fee.
When heavy beat of dull tatoo
Commands the foldier home; The hopes I have to dream on you,
Give mufick to the drum :on Next morning with the Reveillé, I only wake to think on thee.!
Fall the mighty powers above,
First Damon fu'd to that of love;
And fondly begg'd a nymph to find,
Both fair, and constant, to his mind,
The little god, with waggish ear,
Heard all, but granted half the pray'r.
A fair inconftant, Damon found;
She chain'd him faft, then left him bound.
In hopes his freedom to retrieve,
Since charming Cloe cou'd deceive,
Young Damon Bacchus, next, addrefs'd,
And pray'd to drive her from his breast.
The jolly god the dose apply'd,
But Damon's love its force defy'd ;›
The more he drunk, the more he found
That wine inflam'd, not heal'd his wound.
To Phœbus, then, he thus complains:
With mufick's charms unbind
Or make my Cloe faithful prove;
For what can love reward, but love?
But, in foft notes, he try'd in vain,
To ease his mind and footh his pain,
For when the swain his lyre had ftrung,
He thought on Cloe, whilft he funga
At laft young Damon try'd if Mars,
Wou'd take his love, or life, in wars;
But, on the march, and in the fight,
Falfe Cloe's ever in his fight,
With fetter'd heart, what can he do?
His body's made a captive too.
Thus, doubly bound, he makes his moan,
And begs relief of her alone.
Call me not false because I ftrove,
To cure my own, or fix thy love.
Ceafe to be jealous of three gods,
Since, ftill, in fpite of all the odds,
My Cloe's charms more pow'rful prove,
Than all the deities above.
Your chains, with pleasure, let me wear,
However those of state I bear.
Fall joys we e'er poffeft,
O all we pofft the beft:
Sweetly they by turns controul,
Wine the heart, and love the foul;
Wealth and power strive in vain
Equal happiness to gain;
Wine fuperior joy does prove,
And in fober feafons love.
Of all joys we e'er poffeft,
Love and wine are still the best.
IT H virtues, loves, and graces join'd,
Not Eve in Eden e'er fhe fin'd,
Clariffa's various charms outshin'd,
And rais'd more admiration.
Her ftature, shape, her mien and air,
Her bofom, breafts, her neck and hair,
Her eyes fo bright, and face fo fair,
Are fraughted with temptation.
Ye fages, fay, by flesh and blood,
How can fuch beauties be withstood?
What hermit wou'd not, if he cou'd,
To wantonnefs perfuade her ?
But round her ftock of innocence,
The flaming fwords of wit and fense,
Turn every way, in her defence,
Against the bold invader.
O faireft of the fairest kind,
Thou perfect person, purest mind,
Behold an amorous fwain refign'd
My paffion's bound thy virtue's flave!
No lawless boon I'll dare to crave,
Nor indifcreetly misbehave,
Tho' all my foul's in motion.
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