CELIA, too late you would repent;

The off'ring all your flore

Is now but like a pardon fent

To one that's dead before.

While at the first you cruel prov'd,
And grant the blifs too late,
You hinder'd me of one I lov'd
To give me one I hate.

I thought you innocent as fair
When firft my court I made,
But when your falfhoods plain appear
My love no longer ftay'd.

Your bounty of those favours shown
Whose worth you first deface,
Is melting valued medals down,

And giving us the brafs.

Oh!

Oh! fince the thing we beg's a toy,
By lovers priz'd alone,

Why cannot women grant the joy
Before our love is gone?

WALSH.

I'

F the quick spirit of your eye,
Now languish, and anon must die;
If every fweet and every grace
Muft fly from that forsaken face;
Then CELIA, let us reap our joys,
Ere time fuch goodly fruit destroys.

Or if that golden fleece must grow
For ever free from aged fnow ;

If those bright funs must know no fhade,
Nor your fresh beauty ever fade;

Then, CELIA, fear not to bestow

What still being gather'd, ftill must grow.

Thus either time his fickle brings

In vain, or else in vain his wings.

L

ATE when love I seem'd to flight,
PHYLLIS fmil'd as well the might;
Now, faid fhe, our throne may tremble,

Men our province now invade,

Men take up our royal trade,

Men, ev'n men, do now diffemble,

In the duft our empire's laid.

Tutor'd by the wife and grave,
Loath I was to be a flave;

Mistress founded arbitrary ;

So I chose to hide my flame
Friendship, a discreeter name;

But she scorns one jot to vary,
She will love, or nothing, claim.

Be a lover, or pretend,

Rather than the warmest friend;

Friendship of another kind is

Swedish coin of grofs allay,

A cart-load will scarce defray;

Love, one grain is worth the Indies,

Only love is current pay.

A1

H! CHLORIS, could I now but fit

As unconcern'd as when

Your infant beauty could beget
No happiness nor pain!
When I this dawning did admire,
And prais'd the coming day,
I little thought that rifing fire
Would take my rest away.

Your charms in harmless childhood lay
As metals in a mine;

Age from no face takes more away

Than youth conceal'd in thine:

But as your charms infenfibly

To their perfection prest,
So love, as unperceiv'd, did fly,
And center'd in my breast.

My paffion with your beauty grew,
While Cupid, at my heart,
Still as his mother favour'd you,

Threw a new flaming dart:

Each

Each gloried in their wanton part;

To make a beauty, fhe Employ'd the utmost of her art; To make a lover, he.

THE

HE Graces and the wand'ring Loves
Are fled to diftant plains,

To chafe the fawns, or in deep groves

To wound admiring swains.

With their bright mistress there they stray,

Who turns her careless eyes

From daily triumphs; yet, each day,

Beholds new triumphs in her way,
And conquers while fhe flies.

But fee! implor'd by moving prayers,
To change the lover's pain,
Venus her harness'd doves prepares,

And brings the fair again.

Proud mortals, who this maid purfue,

Think you, she'll e'er refign?

Ceafe fools, your wishes to renew,

Till fhe grows flesh and blood, like you;

Or you, like her, divine,