CANTAT A;

Set by Monfieur GALLIARD.

RECIT.

BENEATH a verdant laurel's ample shade,

His lyre to mournful numbers ftrung, Horace, immortal bard, fupinely laid, To Venus thus address'd the song: Ten thousand little loves around, Listening, dwelt on every found. ARIET.

Potent Venus, bid thy fon

Sound no more his dire alarms.
Youth on filent wings is flown:
Graver years come rolling on.
Spare my age, unfit for arms;
Safe and humble let me reft,
From all amorous care releas'd.

Potent Venus, bid thy fon

Sound no more his dire alarms

RECIT.

Yet Venus, why do I each morn prepare

The fragrant wreath for Cloe's hair?

Why do I all day lament and figh,

Unless the beauteous maid be nigh?

And why all night purfue her in my dreams, Through flowry meads and crystal streams?

RECIT.

Thus fung the Bard; and thus the Goddess fpoke: Submiffive bow to Love's imperious yoke:

Every ftate, and every age,

Shall own my rule, and fear my rage:
Compell'd by me, thy Mufe fhall prove,
That all the world was born to love.

ARIET

Bid thy deftin'd lyre discover
Soft defire and gentle pain:
Often praise, and always love her :

Through her ear, her heart obtain.
Verse shall please, and fighs fhall move her,
Cupid does with Phoebus reign.

LINES WRITTEN IN AN OVID:*

OVID is the fureft guide,

Το

You can name, to fhew the way

any woman, maid or bride,

Who refolves to go aftray.

A TRUE

* Tranflated from the following Madrigal of Gilbert, fur l'Art d'Aimer de Ovide.

A TRUE

MAID.

No, no; for my virginity,

When I lose that, says Rose, I'll die?
Behind the elms, last night, cry'd Dick,
Rose, were you not extremely fick ?

A N

NOT HER.

TEN months after Florimel happen'd to wed,

And was brought in a laudable manner to bed:
She warbled her groans with fo charming a voice,
That one half of the parish was stun'd with the noise;
But when Florimel deign'd to lie privately in,
Ten months before she and her spouse were a-kin,
She chose with fuch prudence her pangs to conceal,

That her nurse, nay her midwife, scarce heard her once squeal.

Ou l'efprit prend plaifir d'errer,
Philis, fuivez les pas d'Ovide,
C'est le plus agreable guide,
Qu'on peut choisir pour s'egarer.

Learn,

Learn, husbands, from hence, for the peace of

lives,

your

That maids make not half fuch a tumult, as wives.

A

REASONABLE AFFLICTION,

ON his death-bed poor Lubin lies;

His fpoufe is in despair:

With frequent fobs, and mutual cries,
They both express their care.

A different caufe, fays parfon Sly,
The fame effect may give :
Poor Lubin fears, that he fhall die;
His wife, that he may live.

A NO THE R.

FROM her own native France as old Alison past,

She reproach'd English Nell with neglect or with

malice,

That the flattern had left in the hurry and haste, Her lady's complection, and eye-brows at Calais.

AN O

ANOTHER.

HER eye-brow-box one morning loft,

(The best of folks are ofteneft croft)
Sad Helen thus to Jenny said,
Her careless but afflicted maid;
Put me to bed then, wretched Jane;
Alas! when fhall I rise again?
I can behold no mortal now ;

For what's an eye without a brow.

ON THE SAME SUBJECT.

IN a dark corner of the house

Poor Helen fits, and fobs and cries;

She will not fee her loving spouse,

Nor her more dear PICQUET-allies:

Unless the find her eye-brows,

She'll e'en weep out her eyes.

ON