Confenting makes it colder;
When met it will retreat:
Repulfes make it bolder,

And dangers make it fweet.

L

SONG XV.

OVE's a dream of mighty treafure,

Which in fancy we poffefs;

In the folly lies the pleasure,

Wisdom ever makes it lefs,

For who thinks, by paffion heated,
He a goddess has in chace,
Ixion-like he will be cheated,
And a gawdy cloud embrace.

Only happy is the lover,

Whom his mistress well deceives;

Seeking nothing to discover,

He contented lives at ease.

But the wretch who will be knowing,
What the fair-one would difguife,
Labours at his own undoing,
Changing happy to be wife,

0.

SONG

SONG XVI.

BY ROBERT WOLSELEY ESQ.

F

REEDOM is a real treasure,

Love a dream, all falfe and vain

Short, uncertain, is the pleasure,

Sure and lafting is the pain.

A fincere and tender paffion
Some ill-planet over-rules;
Ah, how blind is inclination!
Fate and women doat on fools.

;

SONG XVII.

BY SIR GEORGE ETHEREGE.

E happy fwains, whofe hearts are free
From Loves imperial chain,

Take warning, and be taught by me,
T'avoid th' inchanting pain.
Fatal the wolves to trembling flocks,
Fierce winds to bloffoms prove,
To carelefs feamen hidden rocks,
To human quiet love.

Fly the fair fex, if bliss you prize;

The fnake's beneath the flower:
Who ever gaz'd on beauteous eyes,

That tasted quiet more ?
H 4

How

How faithlefs is the lovers joy!
How conftant is his care!

The kind with falfehood do destroy,
The cruel with despair.

F

ROM fweet bewitching tricks of love

Young men your hearts fecure, Left from the paths of fenfe you rove, In dotage premature.

Look at each lafs through wifdoms glafs,
Nor trust the naked eye:

Gallants beware, look fharp, take care,
The blind eat many a fly.

Not only on their hands and necks
The borrow'd white you'll find;
Some belles, when intereft directs,
Can even paint the mind;
Joy in diftrefs they can exprefs,

Their very tears can lie:

Gallants beware, look fharp, take care, The blind eat many a fly.

There's not a fpinfter in the realm
But all mankind can cheat,
Down to the cottage from the helm,
The learn'd, the brave, the great:

With lovely looks, and golden hooks,
T'entangle us they try:

Gallants beware, look fharp, take care,
The blind eat many a fly.

Could we with ink the ocean fill,

Was earth of parchment made;

Was every fingle flick a quill,
Each man a fcribe by trade;
To write the tricks of half the sex
Would fuck that ocean dry:

Gallants beware, look sharp, take care,
The blind eat many a fly.

SONG XIX.

CHAUCERS RECANTATION.

A PANEGYRIC ON THE LADIES.

BY MR, CHRISTOPHER SMART.

RECITATIVE.

LD Chaucer once to this re-echoing grove

*

Sung of "The sweet bewitching tricks of love;"

But foon he found he'd fullied his renown,

And arm'd each charming hearer with a frown:

* Spring-gardens, Vauxhall, where the foregoing ballad was fung.

Then felf-condemn'd anew his lyre he ftrung,
And in repentant strains this recantation sung,

AIR.

Long fince unto her native sky
Fled heav'n-defcended Conftancy;
Nought now that's ftable's to be had,
The world's grown mutable and mad:
Save Women - - - they, we must confefs,
Are miracles of ftedfaftnefs;

And ev'ry witty, pretty dame

Bears for her motto - STILL THE SAME.

The flowers that in the vale are seen,
The white, the yellow, blue and green,

In brief complexion idly gay

Still fet with every setting day,

Difpers'd by wind, or chill'd by froft,
Their odour's gone, their colour loft:
But what is true, though paffing strange,
The Women never fade or change,

-

The Wife Man faid that all was vain,
And follies univerfal reign;
Wifdom its vot'ries oft enthralls,
Riches torment, and pleasure palls;
And 'tis, good lack, a gen'ral rule,
That each man foon or late's a fool:
In Women 'tis th' exception lies,
For they are wondrous, wondrous wife.

This

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