By all the joys thy dearest Cœlia gave,
Let not her once-lov'd friend unpitied burn;
So may her ashes find a peaceful grave,
And sleep uninjur'd in their sacred urn.

To her I first avow'd my timorous flame,
She nurs'd my hopes, and taught me how to sue :
She still would pity what the wise might blame,
And feel for weakness which she never knew.

Ah! do not grieve the dear lamented Shade,
That, hovering round us, all my sufferings hears!
She is my Saint-to her my prayers are made,
With oft repeated gifts of flowers and tears:

To her sad tomb, at midnight, I retire;
And, lonely sitting by the silent stone,
I tell it all the griefs my wrongs inspire:-
The marble image seems to hear my moan!

The friend's pale ghost shall vex thy sleepless bed,
And stand before thee, all in virgin white;
That ruthless bosom will disturb the dead,
And call forth pity from eternal night.

Cease, cruel man, the mournful theme forbear;
Though much thou suffer, to thyself complain :
Ah! to recal the sad remembrance spare;
One tear from her is more than all thy pain.

AH! what avails thy lover's pious care?
His lavish incense clouds the sky in vain;
Nor wealth nor greatness was his idle pray'r,
For thee alone he pray'd, thee hoped to gain.

With thee I hoped to waste the pleasing day,
Till in thy arms an age of joy was past:
Then, old with love, insensibly decay,
And on thy bosom gently breathe my last.

I only ask, of her I love possest,
To sink o'ercome with bliss, in safe repose;
To strain her yielding beauties to my breast,
And kiss her wearied eyelids till they close.

No second love shall e'er my heart surprise, This solemn league did first our passion bind! Thou, only thou, can'st please thy lover's eyes, Thy voice alone can sooth his troubled mind.

Oh, that thy charms were only fair to me!
Displease all others, and secure my rest:
No need of envy; let me happy be,
I little care that others know me blest.

With thee in gloomy deserts let me dwell,
Where never human footstep mark'd the ground;
Thou, light of life! all darkness can'st expel;
And seem a world, with solitude around.

ROBERT DODSLEY.

1738.

Among the number of those who, by a happy combination of fortune and prudence, have escaped from obscurity and penury to affluence and reputation, Robert Dodsley holds a distinguished rank. He was born at Mansfield, Nottinghamshire, in 1703. His poetical talent having attracted the attention of the Hon. Mrs. Lowther, to whom he officiated as footman, he was induced to publish specimens of his compositions, under the title of "The Muse in Livery." The dramatic piece of the "Toy-Shop," his next production, introduced him to the notice of Pope, who patronized him so far as to procure it representation at Covent Garden, where it was acted, with great success, in 1735; a year memorable in the life of Dodsley, being that in which he opened a bookseller's shop in Pall Mall, supported by the friendship of Chesterfield, Lyttelton, Shenstone, and Dr. Johnson. Here was laid the foundation of his prosperity. Besides many other distinguished literary undertakings, by which he acquired both fame and emolument, he had the merit of projecting the "Annual Register," a work that was long supported by the high talents of Edmund Burke, and is looked up to as a model for the political annalist. This valuable publication commenced in the year 1758. Unvitiated by worldly success, unnarrowed by the contractedness of his early circumstances, Dodsley omitted no opportunity of avowing his obligation to those who assisted in establishing his welfare, nor did he arrogantly refuse to others the kindness that had been so beneficially extended to himself. After having acquired considerable opulence, which enabled him to repose, during his latter years, from the fatigues of business, he fell a martyr to the gout, while on a visit to his friend Spence, at Durham, September 5, 1764; and was buried there, in the Abbey church-yard.

Prior appears to have been the poet whose steps Dodsley was most ambitious of following. Of the reality of his amours, of the personality of his Polly, his Cœlia, his Kitty, when his original situation in life is retraced, there seems no reason to doubt. His feelings, unsophisticated in themselves, are often uttered in nervous and affecting language. He lived in a state of celibacy, though, in his poem entitled "The Wife," he gives a decided preference to the hymeneal union! Batchelors may sometimes be best qualified to descant on the praises of matrimony.

COME, my fairest! learn of me,
Learn to give and take the bliss!
Come! my Love, here's none but we;
I'll instruct thee how to kiss.

Why turn from me that dear face?
Why that blush, and downcast eye?
Come, come, meet my fond embrace,
And the mutual rapture try.

Throw thy lovely twining arms
Round my neck, or round my waist;
And, whilst I devour thy charms,
Let me closely be embrac'd :
Then when soft ideas rise,

And the gay desires grow strong,
Let them sparkle in thy eyes,

Let them murmur from thy tongue.

To my breast with rapture cling!
Look with transport on my face!
Kiss me, press me! every.thing,
To endear the fond embrace.

Every tender name of love,
In soft whispers, let me hear;
And let speaking nature prove
Every ecstasy sincere.

ONE kind kiss before wc part,
Drop a tear and bid adieu ?
Though we sever, my fond heart
Till we meet shall pant for you.

Yet, yet weep not so, my Love!
Let me kiss that falling tear!
Though my body must remove,
All my soul will still be here:

All my soul, and all my heart,
And every wish shall pant for you.
One kind kiss then ere we part,
Drop a tear and bid adieu ?

CHLOE, by that borrow'd kiss,
I, alas! am quite undone ;
'Twas so sweet, so fraught with bliss,
Thousands will not pay that one.

"Lest the debt should break your heart,"

66

Roguish Chloe smiling cries,

Come, a hundred then in part,

For the present shall suffice."