CHLORIS. Love, PARTHENISSA, all commands!
It fetters Kings in charming bands!
MARS yields his Arms to CUPID's darts;
But Beauty softens savage hearts!
If nothing else can pull the Tyrant down;
Kill him with kindness, and the day 's your own
A THOUGHT OF DEATH.
WHEN on my sick bed I languish,
Full of sorrow, full of anguish,
Fainting, gasping, trembling, crying,
Panting, groaning, speechless, dying,
My soul, just now, about to take her flight
Into the regions of eternal night;
O, tell me, you
That have been long below,
What shall I do?
What shall I think, when cruel Death appears, That may extenuate my fears?
Methinks, I hear some gentle Spirit say,
'Be not fearful! Come away!
Think with thyself, that now thou shalt be free;
And find thy long-expected liberty!
Better thou mayest; but worse thou canst not be
Than in this Vale of Tears and Misery!
Like CÆSAR, with assurance then come on;
And, unamazed, attempt the Laurel Crown
That lies on t' other side Death's Rubicon!'
POOR CELIA, once, was very fair.
A quick bewitching eye she had.
Most neatly looked her braided hair.
Her dainty cheeks would make you mad!
Upon her lip, did all the Graces play;
And on her breast, ten thousand CUPIDS lay!
Then, many a doting Lover came,
From seventeen till twenty-one.
Each told her of his mighty flame;
But she, forsooth! affected none!
One was not handsome! T'other was not fine!
This, of tobacco smelt; and that, of wine!
But, t'other day, it was my fate
To walk along that way alone.
I saw no coach before her gate;
But, at the door, I heard her moan.
She dropped a tear; and, sighing, seemed to say,
Young Ladies, marry! Marry, while you may!'
Sir Patrick Abercromby and Anonymous.
IF you can find a heart, sweet Love! to kill;
Yet grant me this, to read my latest Will!
May all things smile on you! May nothing cross
Your wish, or will; whoever bears the loss!
May FORTUNE's Wheel be ever in your hand!
That you may never sue; but still command!
And to these blessings, may your beauty still
Be fresh; and powerful both to save, and kill!
HERE's a Health unto his Majesty!
With a fa, la, la, la, la!
Conversion to his enemies!
With a fa, la, la, la, la!
And he that will not pledge his Health,
I wish him neither wit, nor wealth;
Nor yet a rope to hang himself!
With a fa, la, la, la, la!
'O, LOVE! if e'er thou'lt ease a heart,
That owns thy power divine,
That bleeds with thy too cruel dart,
And pants with never-ceasing smart;
Take pity now on mine!
'Under the shade, I fainting lie!
A thousand times, I wish to die!
But when I find cold Death too nigh,
I grieve to lose my pleasing pain;
And call my wishes back again!
'But thus, as I sat all alone I' th' shady myrtle grove,
And to each gentle sigh and moan, Some neighbouring ECHO gave a groan; Came by the man I love!
'O, how I strove my griefs to hide!
I panted! blushed! and almost died!
And did each tattling ECHO chide!
For fear, some breath of moving air
Should, to his ears my sorrows bear.
'Yet, O, ye Powers! I'd die to gain
But one poor parting kiss!
And yet I'd be on racks of pain;
Ere I'd one thought, or wish, retain,
That Honour deems amiss!
'Thus are poor Maids unkindly used!
By Love and Nature both abused!
Our tender hearts, all ease refused!
And, when we burn with secret flame,
Must bear our griefs; or die with shame!'
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