part.

Divide thy woes, and give me my fad
I am no stranger to an aching heart;
Too well I know the force of inward grief,
And well can bear it to give you relief:
All Love's fevereft pangs I can endure:
I can bear pain, though hopelefs of a cure.
I know what 'tis to weep, and figh, and pray,
To wake all night, yet dread the breaking day;
I know what 'tis to wifh, and hope, and all in vain,
And meet, for humble Love, unkind Difdain;
Anger and Hate I have been forc'd to bear,
Nay, Jealoufy---and I have felt Despair.
These pains for I have been forc'd to prove,
For cruel you, when I began to love.

you

Till warm Compaffion took at length my part,
And melted to my wish your yielding heart.
O the dear hour, in which you did refign!
When round my neck your willing arms did twine,
And, in a kifs, you faid your heart was mine.
Through each returning year may that hour be
Distinguish'd in the rounds of all eternity;
Gay be the fun that hour in all his light,
Let him collect the day to be more bright,
Shine all that hour, and let the rest be night.
And fhall I all this heaven of blifs receive
From you, yet not lament to fee you grieve!
Shall 1, who nourish'd in my breast defire,
When your cold fcorn and frowns forbid the fire;
Now when a mutual flame you have reveal'd,
And the dear union of our fouls is feal'd,

}

When

When all my joys complete in you I find,
Shall I not fhare the forrows of your mind?
O tell me, tell me all---whence does arife

This flood of tears? whence are these frequent fighs?
Why does that lovely head, like a fair flower
Opprefs'd with drops of a hard-falling shower,
Bend with its weight of grief, and feem to grow
Downward to earth, and kiss the root of woe?
Lean on my breaft, and let me fold thee fast,
Lock'd in these arms, think all thy forrows paft;
Or what remain think lighter made by me;
So I should think, were I fo held by thee.
Murmur thy plaints, and gently wound my ears;
Sigh on my lip, and let me drink thy tears;
Join to my cheek thy cold and dewy face,
And let pale grief to glowing love give place.
O fpeak--- for woe in filence most appears;
Speak, ere my fancy magnify my fears.
Is there a caufe, which words can not exprefs!
Can I not bear a part, nor make it less ?
I know not what to think---am I in fault?
I have not, to my knowledge, err'd in thought,
Nor wander'd from my love; nor would I be
Lord of the world, to live depriv'd of thee.
You weep afresh, and at that word you start!
Am I to be depriv'd then ?---must we part?
Curfe on that word fo ready to be spoke,
For through my lips, unmeant by me, it broke.
Oh no, we must not, will not, can not part,
And my tongue talks, unprompted by my heart.

Yet fpeak, for my distraction grows apace,
And racking fears and restless doubts increase ;
And fears and doubts to jealoufy will turn,
The hotteft hell, in which a heart can burn.

A M
MOR E T.

FAIR Amoret is

I.

gone aftray;

Purfue and feek her, every lover; I'll tell the figns, by which you may The wandering fhepherdefs discover.

II.

Coquet and coy at once her air,

Both study'd, though both feem neglected; Careless she is with artful care,

Affecting to feem unaffected.

III.

With fkill her eyes dart every glance,

Yet change fo foon you 'd ne'er fufpect them For the 'd perfuade they wound by chance, Though certain aim and art direct them..

IV.

She likes herself, yet others hates

For that which in herself fhe prizes; And, while fhe laughs at them, forgets

She is the thing that the defpifes.

;

LES

LES BI A.

WHEN Lesbia first I faw fo heavenly fair,

With eyes fo bright, and with that awful air, I thought my heart, which durst so high aspire, As bold as his who fnatch'd cœleftial fire. But foon as e'er the beauteous idiot fpoke, Forth from her coral lips fuch folly broke,. Like balm the trickling nonsense heal'd my wound, And what her enthrall'd her tongue unbound.

DORI

eyes

ORIS, a nymph of riper age,
Has every grace and art,

A wife obferver to engage,
Or wound a heedlefs heart..

Of native blush, and rofy dye,

Time has her cheek bereft ;

Which makes the prudent nymph fupply
With paint th' injurious theft.

Her sparkling eyes she still retains,
And teeth in good repair;

And her well-furnish'd front difdains
Το grace with borrow'd hair.

Of fize, fhe is nor fhort, nor tall,

And does to fat incline

No more, than what the French would call

Aimable Embonpoint.

Farther, her perfon to disclose

I leave---let it fuffice,

She has few faults, but what she knows,

And can with skill difguife.

She many lovers has refus'd,

With many more comply'd;

Which, like her cloaths, when little us'd,
She always lays afide.

She's one, who looks with great contempt
On each affected creature,
Whofe nicety would feem exempt
From appetites of nature.

She thinks they want or health or fenfe,
Who want an inclination;

And therefore never takes offence
At him who pleads his passion.
Whom she refuses, fhe treats still
With fo much fweet behaviour,
That her refufal, through her sklll,
Looks almost like a favour.

Since the this foftness can exprefs
To those whom the rejects,
She must be very fond, you 'll guess,

Of fuch whom the affects:

But here our Doris far outgoes,

All that her fex have done;

She no regard for custom knows,

Which reafon bids her fhun.

By