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Lovely as light, and soft as yielding air.
For him each virgin sighs; and on the plains
The happy youth above each rival reigns.
Nor to the echoing groves, and whisp'ring spring,
In sweeter strains does artful Conon sing;
When loud applauses fill the crowded groves,
And Phoebus the superior song approves.

SILVIA.

Beauteous Aminta is as early light, Breaking the melancholy shades of night. When she is near, all anxious trouble flies; And our reviving hearts confess her eyes. Young love, and blooming joy, and gay desires, In ev'ry breast the beauteous nymph inspires: And on the plain when she no more appears, The plain a dark and gloomy prospect wears. In vain the streams roll on : the eastern breeze Dances in vain among the trembling trees. In vain the birds begin their ev'ning song, And to the silent night their notes prolong : Nor groves, nor crystal streams, nor verdant field Does wonted pleasure in her absence yield.

AMARYLLIS. And in his absence, all the pensive day, In some obscure retreat I lonely stray; All day to the repeating caves complain, In mournful accents, and a dying strain. Dear lovely youth, I cry to all around: Dear lovely youth, the flattering vales resound. WOL. I. 8

SILVIA. On flow'ry banks, by ev'ry murm'ring stream, Aminta is my Muse's softest theme: 'Tis she that does my artful notes refine: With fair Aminta's name my noblest verse shall shine.

AMARYLLIS. I'll twine fresh garlands for Alexis' brows, And consecrate to him eternal vows: The charming youth shall my Apollo prove: He shall adorn my songs, and tune my voice to love.

TO THE AUTHOR OF THE FOREGOING PASTORAL

By Silvia if thy charming self be meant;
If friendship be thy virgin vows' extent;
O ! let me in Aminta's praises join:
Hers my esteem shall be, my passion thine.
When for thy head the garland I prepare,
A second wreath shall bind Aminta's hair:
And when my choicest songs thy worth proclaim.
Alternate verse shall bless Aminta's name:
My heart shall own the justice of her cause,
And Love himself submit to Friendship's laws.
But, if beneath thy numbers' soft disguise,
Some favour’d swain, some true Alexis lies;
If Amaryllis breathes thy secret pains,

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And thy fond heart beats measure to thy strains,
Mayst thou, howe'er I grieve, for ever find
The flame propitious, and the lover kind:
May Venus long exert her happy power,
And make thy beauty, like thy verse, endure;
May ev'ry god his friendly aid afford,
Pan guard thy flock, and Ceres bless thy board,

But, if by chance the series of thy joys
Permit one thought less cheerful to arise,
Piteous transfer it to the mournful swain,
Who loving much, who not belov’d again,
Feels an ill-fated passion's last excess,
And dies in woe, that thou mayst live in peace.

TO A LADY : SHE REFUSING TO CONTINUE A DISPUTE WITH ME,

AND LEAVING ME IN THE ARGUMENT.

AN ODE.

SPARE, gen’rous Victor, spare the slave,
Who did unequal war pursue;

That more than triumph he might have,
In being overcome by you.

In the dispute whate’er I said,
My heart was by my tongue belied;

And in my looks you might have read
How much I argu'd on your side.

You, far from danger as from fear,
Might have sustain’d an open fight:

For seldom your opinions err;
Your eyes are always in the right.

Why, fair one, would you not rely
On Reason's force with Beauty's join'd?

Could I their prevalence deny,
I must at once be deaf and blind.

Alas! not hoping to subdue,
I only to the fight aspir'd :

To keep the beauteous foe in view
Was all the glory I desir'd.

But she, howe'er of vict'ry sure,
Contemns the wreath too long delay'd :

And, arm'd with more immediate power,
Calls cruel silence to her aid.

Deeper to wound, she shuns the fight;
She drops her arms, to gain the field;

Secures her conquest by her flight,
And triumphs, when she seems to yield

So when the Parthian turn’d his steed,
And from the hostile camp withdrew,

With cruel skill the backward reed
He sent; and as he fled, he slew.

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SEEINU THE DUKE OF ORMOND’S 1 PICTURE

AT SIR GODFREY KNELLER's.

OUT from the injur'd canvas, Kneller, strike
These lines too faint : the picture is not like.
Exalt thy thought, and try thy toil again :
Dreadful in arms, on Landen’s “glorious plain

1 James Duke of Ormond, eldest son of Thomas, Earl of Ossory. He succeeded his grandfather in title and estate in the year 1688; was bred at Christ Church in the University of Oxford, and after holding many considerable posts during the reigns of King William and Queen Anne, was, in the beginning of the reign of George the First, attainted of high treason on account of his being concerned in the unpopular measures of the last four years of Queen Anne's reign. He died in exile in the year 1745, in a very advanced age.

2. At the battle of Landen the Duke of Ormond was taken prisoner after his horse was shot under him, and he had received many wounds. Mr. Dryden, in his dedication prefixed to his Fables in the year 1699, says, “Yet not to be wholly silent of all your charities, I must stay a little on one action, which preferred the relief of others to the consideration of yourself. When, in the battle of Landen, your heat of courage (a fault only pardonable to your youth) had transported you so far before your friends, that they were unable to follow, much less to succour you; when you were not only dangerously, but in all appearance mortally wounded, when in that desperate condition you were made prisoner, and carried to Namur, at that time in possession of the French; then it was, my Lord, that you took a considerable part of what was remitted to you of your own revenues, and

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