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bear Beauty beſt Bliſs Breaſt ceaſe Celia charms Collection dart dear delight doubt dream e'er Eaſe ev'ry Eyes Face fair falſe Fancy Fate fear feel firſt flame flow fond Friend gentle give Grace grief grove hand happy head hear Heart Heav'n Hope hour kind laſt leave Light live look Love Lover Maid mean meet Mind moſt move muſt Nature Nature's ne'er needs never night Nymph o'er once pain paint paſſion Peace Pity pleaſe pleaſure pow'r prove purſue Reaſon reſt ſay Sedley ſee ſeem Senſe ſhall ſhould ſmile ſoft ſome Songs Soul ſtill ſuch Swain ſweet taught tell tender Thee theſe thine things thoſe Thou thought thouſand thro Tongue true Truth turn vain Virtue Voice whoſe World Youth
Стр. 141 - Less than a god they thought there could not dwell Within the hollow of that shell That spoke so sweetly and so well. What passion cannot music raise and quell!
Стр. 9 - Not, Celia, that I juster am Or better than the rest ; For I would change each hour, like them, Were not my heart at rest. But I am tied to very thee By every thought I have ; Thy face I only care to see, Thy heart I only crave.
Стр. 4 - Nor peace, nor ease, the heart can know, That, like the needle true, Turns at the touch of joy or woe, But turning, trembles too.
Стр. 77 - Cause I see a woman kind? Or a well disposed nature Joined with a lovely feature? Be she meeker, kinder, than Turtle-dove or pelican, If she be not so to me, What care I how kind she be? Shall a woman's virtues move Me to perish for her love? Or her...
Стр. 50 - For women, born to be controll'd, Stoop to the forward and the bold, Affect the haughty and the proud, The gay, the frolic, and the loud. Who first the generous steed oppress'd, Not kneeling did salute the beast, But with high courage, life, and force, Approaching, tam'd th
Стр. 111 - Now the flame rises fast, you exult in my pain; But the son of Alknomook can never complain. I go to the land where my father is gone; His ghost shall rejoice in the fame of his son: Death comes like a friend, he relieves me from pain; And thy son, Oh Alknomook!
Стр. 12 - I prithee send me back my heart, Since I cannot have thine; For if from yours you will not part, Why then shouldst thou have mine? Yet now I think on't, let it lie; To find it were in vain, For th' hast a thief in either eye Would steal it back again.