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Whose rosy Colours ne'er return,
But I, with equal Ardour, burn.

In Pity, O! ye Stars, incline
To warm my Cloe's Breast, like mine.
But fly, thou dull and envious Cover,
And relieve the wishing Lover.
When 'my Eyes no more can trace
The dazling Luftre of her Face,
Her snowy Neck they may explore,
And safely range its Beauties o'er.

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CHAR

YHARM’D with Belinda's Voice and Wit,

I ask'd Apollo's Aid,
That I might fing, in Numbers fit,

Th' Harmonious, Heav?nly Maid.

II.

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Unless, said He, She form the Song,

Unless She sing the Strain,
The Sense, the Music of her Tongue,

Must undescrib'd remain.

Ampho

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Amphora plena
! mei Titulo res digna

Sepulchri :

Mphora plena!

Hujus ero vivus, mortuus hujus ero.

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HUS said Kingstone, When I die,
Write me a Liquid Elegy :

Write,
Here lies One, who thought no Harm in
A large, capacious Bellar-nin :

But chose it for his Urn, to lie in; ? Thirsty Living, Thirsty Dying.

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On Mr. Welfted's presenting bis Ode on

the Duke of Marlborough's Apoplexy, to a Celebrated Toast.

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F, thus, the Tuneful Bard his Voice can raise,

When England's Mars, expiring, damps his Lays, How! could he sing, and in what rapturous Rhimes Describe the Living VENUS of our Times ?

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CLOE!
LOE! Your Sovereign Charms, I own;

I feel the fatal Smart;
The Glory, YOU can boast, alone,
To fix my wand'ring Heart.

II. Your

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II.

Your beauteous Sex, with various Grace,

My Passions, oft, have mov'd; And now a Shape, and then a Face,

As Fancy led, I lov’d.

III.

So, does the Vagrant Bee explore

Each Sweet, that Nature yields;
Lightly, she skims from Flow'r, to Flo'wr,

And ranges all the Fields.

IV.

But! You have found the cruel Art

To cure my Roving Mind
Each Female Beauty You impart;

Your Sex, in One, combin'd.

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