When, spent with endless grief, I die at last,
Delia may come, and see my poor remains-
Oh, Delia! after fuch an absence past,

Canft thou ftill love, and not forget my pains?

Wilt thou in tears thy lover's corse attend?
With eyes
averted light the folemn pyre;
Till all around the doleful flames afcend;
Then, flowly finking, by degrees expire?

To soothe the hov'ring foul be thine the care,
With plaintive cries to lead the mournful band;
In fable weeds the golden vafe to bear,

And cull my afhes with thy trembling hand.

Panchaia's odours be their coftly feast,

And all the pride of Afia's fragrant year;

Give them the treasures of the fartheft east,
And, what is ftill more precious, give thy tear.

Dying for thee, there is in death a pride:
Let all the world thy hapless lover know;

No filent urn the noble paffion hide,

But deeply graven thus my fuff'rings fhow:

• Here lies a youth borne down with love and care, He cou'd not long his Delia's lofs abide ;

Joy left his bofom with the parting fair,

And when he durft no longer hope, he dy'd.'

TH

HIS day, which faw my Delia's beauty rife,
Shall more than all our facred days be bless'd;

The world, enamour'd of her lovely eyes,

Shall grow as good and gentle as her breast.

By

By all our guarded fighs and hid defires,

Oh, may our guiltless love be still the fame!

I urn, and glory in the pleafing fires,

If Delia's bosom share the mutual flame.

Thou, happy genius of her natal hour,
Accept her incenfe, if her thoughts be kind;
But let her court in vain thy angry power,

If all our vows are blotted from her mind:

And thou, O Venus, hear my righteous pray'r,
Or bind the shepherdefs or loose the swain!
Yet rather guard them both with equal care,
And let them die together in thy chain!

What I demand perhaps her heart defires,
But virgin tears her nicer tongue restrain;
The fecret thought, which blufhing love infpires,
The conscious eye can full as well explain.

THE

'HE man, who sharpen'd first the warlike steel,
How fell and deadly was his iron heart!

He gave the wound encount'ring nations feel,
And death grew ftronger by his fatal art.

Yet not from steel debate and battle rofe,
'Tis gold o'erturns the even scale of life;
Nature is free to all, and none were foes,

Till partial Luxury began the ftrife.

Let spoil and victory adorn the bold,

While I inglorious neither hope nor fear; Perish the thirst of honour, thirst of gold, Ere for my abfence Delia lofe a tear!

Why

Why fhou'd the lover quit his pleafing home,
In fearch of danger on fome foreign ground;
Far from his weeping fair ungrateful roam,

And risk in ev'ry stroke a double wound?

Ah better far, beneath the spreading shade,
With chearful friends to drain the sprightly bowl;
To fing the beauties of my darling maid,
And on the sweet idea feaft my foul !

Then, full of love, to all her, charms retire,
And fold her blufhing to my eager breast;
Till, quite o'ercome with foftnefs, with defire,
Like me the pants, fhe faints, and finks to reft.

No

O fecond love fhall e'er my heart furprize; This folemn league did first our paffion bind : Thou, only thou, canft please thy lover's eyes,

Thy voice alone can foothe his troubled mind.

Oh, that thy charms were only fair to me,
Displease all others, and fecure my reft;
No need of envy-let me happy be,

I little care that others know me blefs'd.

With thee in gloomy defarts let me dwell,
Where never human footstep mark'd the ground;
Thou, light of life, all darkness canft expel,
And feem a world, with folitude around.

I fay too much-my heedlefs words reftore;

My tongue undoes me in this loving hour:
Thou know'ft thy ftrength, and thence infulting more,
Wilt make me feel the weight of all thy pow'r.

Whate'er

Whate'er I feel, thy flave I will remain,

Nor fly the burden I am form'd to bear:
In chains I'll fit me down at Venus' fane;
She knows my wrongs, and will regard my pray

LET others boaft their heaps of fhining gold,
And view their fields with waving plenty crown'd;
Whom neighb'ring foes in conftant terror hold,
And trumpets break their lumbers-never found,

While, calmly poor, I trifle life away;

Enjoy sweet leisure by my chearful fire: No wanton hope my quiet shall betray;

But, cheaply blefs'd, I'll scorn each vain defirė.

With timely care I'll fow my little field,

And plant my orchard with it's master's hand; Nor blush to spread the hay, the hook to wield, Or range my fheaves along the funny land.

If late at dusk, while carelessly. I roam,

I meet a strolling kid, or bleating lamb; Under my arm I'll bring the wand'rer home, And not a little chide it's thoughtless dam.

What joy to hear the tempeft howl in vain,
And clasp a fearful mistress to my breast!
Or, lull'd to flumber by the beating rain,
Secure and happy, fink at last to rest !

Or if the fun in flaming Leo ride,

By fhady rivers indolently stray;

And with my Delia, walking fide by fide,
Hear how they murmur as they glide away!

What joy to wind along the cool retreat,
To ftop and gaze on Delia as I go!
To mingle fweet difcourfe with kiffes fweet,
And teach my lovely scholar all I know!

Thus pleas'd at heart, and not with Fancy's dream,
In filent happiness I reft unknown;
Content with what I am, not what I feem,
I live for Delia and myself alone.

Ah, foolish man! who thus of her poffefs'd,
Could float and wander with ambition's wind;
And, if his outward trappings spoke him bless'd,
Not heed the sickness of his confcious mind.

With her I fcorn the idle breath of praise,
Nor truft to happiness that's not our own:
The smile of fortune might fufpicion raise,
But here I know that I am lov'd alone.

Stanhope, in wisdom as in wit divine,

May rife and plead Britannia's glorious caufe;
With steady rein his eager wit confine,
While manly fense the deep attention draws!

Let Stanhope fpeak his lift'ning country's wrong,
My humble voice fhall pleafe one partial maid
For her alone I pen my tender fong,

Securely fitting in his friendly fhade.

Stanhope fhall come, and grace his rural friend!
Delia fhall wonder at her noble gueft;
With blushing awe the riper fruit commend,
And for her husband's patron cull the beft.

Her's