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S O

N G.

1.

ELL me no more I am deceiv'd;

TEL

That Chloe 's falfe and common:

I always knew (at least believ'd)

She was a very woman;

As fuch, I lik'd, as fuch, carefs'd,
She still was conftant when poffefs'd,
She could do more for no man.

II.

But, oh! her thoughts on others ran,
And, that, you think a hard thing;
Perhaps, the fancy'd you the man,

And what care I one farthing?

You think the 's falfe, I'm fure the 's kind;

I take her body, you her mind,

Who has the better bargain?

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Bleffings greater none can have,

Art thou not Amynta's flave?
Ceafe fond mortal, to implore,

For Love, ev'n Love himself's no more.

S

N

G.

1

CRUEL Amynta, can you

fee

A heart thus torn, which you betray'd?

Love of himself ne'er vanquish'd me,

But through your eyes the conquest made.

II.

In ambush their the traitor lay,

Where I was led by faithlefs fmiles:

No wretches are so loft as they,

Whom much fecurity beguiles.

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EE, fee, fhe wakes, Sabina wakes!

SEE,

And now the fun begins to rife;

Lefs glorious is the morn that breaks

From his bright beams, than her fair eyes.

II.

With light united, day they give,
But different fates ere night fulfil :
How many by his warmth will live!

How many will her coldness kill!

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Occafioned by a LADY's having writ VERSES in Commendation of a POEM which was written in Praise of another LADY.

ARD is the task, and bold th' adventurous flight,

HAR

Of him, who dares in praife of beauty white; For when to that high theme our thoughts afcend, 'Tis to detract, too poorly to commend.

And he, who, praising beauty, does no wrong,
May boaft to be fuccefsful in his fong:
But when the fair themselves approve his lays,
And one excepts, and one vouchfafes to praise,
His wide ambition knows no farther bound,
Nor can his Mufe with brighter fame be crown'd.

E PIG, R A M.

Written after the Decease of Mrs. ARABELLÁ HUNT, under her Picture drawn playing on a Lute.

WE

ERE there on earth another voice like thine, Another hand so bleft with skill divine! The late afflicted world fome hopes might have, And Harmony retrieve thee from the grave.

SONG.

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Would I were free from this restraint,
Or elfe had hopes to win her!
Would fhe could make of me a faint,

Or I of her a finner!

G.

A HYMN TO HARMONY,

IN HONOUR OF

ST. CECILIA'S DAY, MDCCI.

Set to MUSIC by Mr. JOHN ECCLES.

I.

Harmony, to thee we fing,

To thee the grateful tribute bring
Of facred verfe, and fweet refounding lays;
Thy aid invoking while thy Power we praise.
All hail to thee,

All powerful Harmony !

Wife Nature owns thy undisputed sway,
Her wondrous works refigning to thy care:
The planetary orbs thy rule obey,

And tuneful roll, unerring in their

way,

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Thy voice, O Harmony, with awful found
Could penetrate th' abyfs profound,

Explore the realms of ancient night,
And fearch the living fource of unborn light.
Confufion heard thy voice, and fled,

And Chaos deeper plung'd his vanquish'd head.
Then didit thou, Harmony, give birth
To this fair form of heaven and earth;
Then all thofe fhining worlds above
In myftic dance began to move
Around the radiant fphere of central fire,"
A never-ceafing, never-filent choir.

CHORU S.

Confufion heard thy voice, and fled,

And Chaos deeper plung'd his vanquish'd head.

III.

Thou only, goddess, first could'ft tell
The mighty charms in numbers found;
And didft to heavenly minds reveal
The fecret force of tuneful found.

When

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