Deceiv'd by thee, I lov'd a beauteous maid,
Who bends on fordid gold her low defires:
Nor worth nor paffion can her heart perfuade,
But love must act what avarice requires!

Unwife, who first (the charm of nature loft)
With Tyrian purple foil'd the fnowy sheep;
Unwifer ftill, who feas and mountains crofs'd,
To dig the rock, and fearch the pearly deep?

These coftly toys our filly fair furprize;

The fhining follies cheat their feeble fight: Their hearts, fecure in trifles, love defpife;

'Tis vain to court them, but more vain to write!

And earthly thought beneath a heav'nly face! Forget the worth that dignifies mankind,

Yet fmooth and polish fo cach outward grace!

Hence all the blame that Love and Venus bear;
Hence pleasure short, and anguish ever long:
Hence tears and fighs; and hence the peevish fair,
The froward lover-hence this angry fong.

ADIEU, ye walls, that guard my cruel fair!

No more I'll fit in rofy fetters bound:

My limbs have learn'd the weight of arms to bear,
My rouzing spirits feel the trumpet's found.

Few are the maids that now on merit smile,
On spoil and war is bent this iron age;
Yet pain and death attend on war and spoil,
Unfated vengeance and remorfelefs rage.

To purchase spoil, e'en Love itself is fold;

Her lover's heart is least Neera's care t And I thro' war muft feek detefted gold,

Not for myself, but for my venal fair;

That while fhe bends beneath the weight of dress,
The stiffen'd robe may spoil her easy mien ;
And art, mistaken, make her beauty lefs,

While ftill it hides fome graces better seen!

But if fuch toys can win her lovely fmile,

Her's be the wealth of Tagus' golden fand; Her's the bright gems that glow in India's foil, Her's the black fons of Africk's fultry land!

To please her eye, let every loom contend;
For her be rifled Ocean's pearly bed!-
But where, alas! would idle Fancy tend,
And foothe with dreams a youthful poet's head ?

Let others buy the cold unloving maid,

In forc'd embraces act the tyrant's part;

While I their selfish luxury upbraid,

And scorn the perfon, where I doubt the heart!

Thus warm'd by Pride, I think I love no more,
And hide in threats the weakness of my mind:

In vain—tho' Reason fly the hated door,

Yet Love, the coward Love, ftill lags behind.

SHOULD Jove defcend in floods of liquid ore,
And golden torrents ftream from every part,
That craving bofom ftill would heave for more;

Not all the god could fatisfy thy heart.

But

1

But may thy folly, which can thus difdain
My honeft love, the mighty wrong repay;
May midnight fire involve thy fordid gain,
And on the fhining heaps of rapine prey!

May all the youths, like me, by love deceiv'd,
Not quench the ruin, but applaud the doom;
And, when thou dy't, may not one heart be griev'd,
May not one tear bedew thy lonely tomb!

But the deferving, tender, generous maid,
Whofe only care is her poor lover's mind;
Tho' ruthlefs age may bid her beauty fade,

In every friend to love, a friend fhall find!

And when the lamp of life will burn no more,
When dead fhe feems as in a gentle fleep;
The pitying neighbour fhall her lofs deplore,
And round the bier affembled lovers weep!

With flow'ry garlands, each revolving year
Shall ftrew the grave where truth and softness rest;
Then home returning drop the pious tear,

And bid the turf lie eafy on her breast.

WH

HILE calm you fit beneath your secret shade,
And lofe in pleafing thought the fummer day;
Or tempt the wish of fome unpractis'd maid,
Whose heart at once inclines and fears to ftray:

The fprightly vigour of my youth is fled;

Lonely and fick, on death is all my thought.

Oh, fpare, Perfephone*, this guiltless head!
Love, too much love, is all thy fuppliant's fault.

*The goddess of Death.

No

No virgin's eafy faith I e'er betray'd,

My tongue ne'er boasted of a feign'd embrace; No poifons in the cup have I convey'd,

Nor veil'd deftruction with a friendly face.

No fecret horrors gnaw this quiet breast,
This pious hand ne'er robb'd the facred fane;
I ne'er difturb'd the God's eternal rest

With curfes loud, but oft have pray'd in vain.

No stealth of time has thinn'd my flowing hair,
Nor age yet bent me with his iron hand :
Ah! why fo foon the tender bloffom tear,

Ere Autumn yet the ripen'd fruit demand!

Ye gods! whoe'er, in gloomy fhades below,
Now flowly tread your melancholy round,
Now wand'ring, view the baleful rivers flow,
And mufing, hearken to their folemn found:

Oh, let me ftill enjoy the chearful day,
Till many years unheeded o'er me roll'd,
Pleas'd in my age, I trifle life away,

And tell how much we lov'd, ere I

grew old!

But you, who now with feftive garlands crown'd,
In chace of pleafure the gay moments spend;
By quick enjoyment heal Love's pleafing wound,
And grieve for nothing, but your abfent friend.

1

WITH

ITH wine, more wine, deceive thy master's care,
Till creeping flumber foothe his troubled breaft;

Let not a whisper ftir the filent air,

If hapless Love a while confent to reft.

Untoward

Untoward guards befet my Cynthia's doors,

And cruel locks th' imprison'd fair conceal :
May lightnings blast whom Love in vain implores,
And Jove's own thunder rive those bolts of steel!

Ah, gentle door, attend my humble call,
Nor let thy founding hinge our thefts betray;
So all my curfes far from thee fhall fall!-
We angry-lovers mean not half we say.

Remember now the flow'ry wreaths I

gave,

When firft I told thee of my bold defires: Nor thou, O Cynthia, fear the watchful flave; Venus will favour what herself inspires.

She guides the youths who fee not where they tread ;
She fhews the virgin how to turn the door,

Softly to steal from off her filent bed,

And not a step betray her on the floor;

The fearless lover wants no beam of light,

The robber knows him, nor obstructs his way; Sacred he wanders thro' the pathless night, Belongs to Venus, and can never stray.

I fcorn the chilling wind, and beating rain,
Nor heed cold watchings on the dewy groundi
If all the hardships I for Love fultain,

With Love's victorious joys at laft be crown'd!

With fudden ftep let none our blifs furprize,

Or check the freedom of fecure delight! Rash man beware, and fhut thy curious eyes,

Left angry Venus fnatch their guilty fight !

But