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OME all ye youths whose hearts e'er bled,
By cruel beauty's pride;

Bring each a garland on his head,

Let none his forrows hide:

But hand in hand around me move,
Singing the faddeft tales of love;
And fee, when your complaints ye join,
If all your wrongs can equal mine.

The happiest mortal once was I,
My heart no forrows knew;
Pity the pain with which I die,
But afk not whence it grew:
Yet if a tempting fair you find,
That's very lovely, very kind,

Tho' bright as Heaven whofe ftamp fhe bears,
Think of my fate, and fhun her fnares.

OTWAY.

K 4

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Na bank, befide a willow,

Heaven her covering, earth her pillow,
Sad AMINTA figh'd alone:

From the cheerlefs dawn of morning,
Till the dews of night returning,

Singing, thus fhe made her moan;

Hope is banifh'd,

Joys are vanifh'd,

DAMON, my belov'd, is gone.

Time, I dare thee to discover
Such a youth, and such a lover,

Oh! fo true, fo kind was he!

DAMON was the pride of nature,
Charming in his every feature,
DAMON liv'd alone for me;
Melting kiffes,

Murmuring bliffes,

Who fo liv'd and lov'd as we ?

Never shall we curfe the morning,
Never blefs the night returning,
Sweet embraces to restore;
Never fhall we both lie dying,
Nature failing, love fupplying

All the joys he drain'd before:
Death come end me

To befriend me;

Love and DAMON are no more!

DRYDEN,

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O the brook and the willow that heard him complain,
Ah willow! willow!

Poor COLIN went weeping, and told them his pain.
Sweet ftream, he cry'd, fadly I'll teach thee to flow,
And the waters fhall rife to the brink with my woe.
All reftlefs and painful my CELIA now lies,
And counts the fad moments of time as it flies:
To the nymph, my heart's love, ye foft flumbers repair,
Spread your downy wings o'er her, and make her your care;

Let

Let me be left restless, mine eyes never close,
So the fleep that I lose give my dear one repofe.
Sweet ftream! if you chance by her pillow to creep,
Perhaps your foft murmurs may lull her to fleep.
But if I am doom'd to be wretched indeed,
And the lofs of my charmer the fates have decreed,
Believe me, thou fair one, thou dear one, believe,
Few fighs to thy lofs, and few tears will I give;
One fate to thy COLIN and thee fhall betide,
And foon lay thy fhepherd down by thy cold fide.
Then glide, gentle brook, and to lofe thyfelf hafte,
Bear this to my willow; this verfe is my laft.

Ah willow! willow! Ah willow! willow!

Rowe.

O fair FIDELE's graffy tomb

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Soft maids, and village hinds shall bring Each op'ning sweet of earliest bloom,

And rifle all the breathing spring.

No

No wailing ghoft shall dare appear
To vex with fhrieks this quiet grove,
But shepherd lads affemble here,

And melting virgins own their love.

No wither'd witch fhall here be seen,

No goblins lead their nightly crew; But female fays shall haunt the green, And dress thy grave with pearly dew.

The red breast oft at evening hours
Shall kindly lend his little aid,
With hoary mofs and gather'd flow'rs

To deck the ground where thou art laid.

When howling winds and beating rain
In tempefts shake the fylvan cell;

Or 'midst the chase upon the plain

The tender thought on thee fhall dwell.

Each lonely scene shall thee reftore,
For thee the tear be duly shed;
Belov'd, till life can charm no more,
And mourn'd, till pity's felf be dead.

COLLINS:

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