In vain, alas! for every thing,
Which I have known belong to you,
Your form does to my fancy bring,

And makes my old wounds bleed anew.

Who in the fpring, from the new fun,
Already has a fever got,

Too late begins thofe fhafts to fhun
Which Phoebus through his veins has shot:

Too late he would the pain affwage,
And to thick fhadows does retire:
About with him he bears the rage,

And in his tainted blood the fire.

But vow'd I have, and never muft

Your banish'd fervant trouble you :

For if I break, you may

miftruft

The vow I made- -to love you too.

SONG VI.

YES, Daphne, in your face I find,

Thofe charms by which my heart's betray'd;

Then let not your difdain unbind

The prifoner that your eyes have made: She that in love makes leaft defence,

Wounds ever with the fureft dart;

Beauty may captivate the fenfe,

But kindness only gains the heart.

Tis kindness, Daphne, must maintain
The empire that you once have won ;
When beauty does like tyrants reign,

Its fubjects from their duty run:
Then force me not to be untrue,
Left I, compell'd by gen'rous fhame,
Caft off my loyalty to you,

To gain a glorious rebels name.

SONG VII.

BY MR. JOHN HOW.

IN Chloris all foft charms agree,

IN

Inchanting humour, powerful wit,

Beauty from affectation free,

And for eternal empire fit.
Wheree'er fhe goes Love waits her eyes,

The women envy, men adore;

But did fhe less the triumph prize,

She would deferve the conqueft more.

The pomp of love fo much prevails,

She begs, what else none would deny her,
Makes fuch advances with her eyes,

The hope fhe gives prevents defire ;

Catches at every trifling heart,

Seems warm with every glimm'ring flame,
The common prey fo deads the dart,

VOL. I.

It scarce can pierce a noble game.

I

I could

I could lie ages at her feet,
Adore her, careless of my pain,
With tender vows her rigours meet,

Defpair, love on, and not complain.
My paffion, from all change fecure,

No favours raife, no frown controuls,
I any torment can endure,

But hoping with a crowd of fools.

SONG VIII.

BY MR. MOSES MENDEZ*.

YOU fay, at your feet I have wept in despair,

You

And vow'd that no angel was ever so fair: How could you believe all the nonsense I spoke? What know we of angels ?-I meant it in joke.

I next ftand indicted for fwearing to love,

And that nothing but death fhould my paffion remove :
I have lik'd you a twelvemonth :-a calendar year:
And not yet contented!-Have patience my dear.

* In the mufical entertainment of The Chaplet,

SONG

SONG IX.

INGRATEFUL BEAUTY THREATENED,

BY THOMAS CAREW ESQ

K

NOW Celia, (fince thou art so proud,)
'Twas I that gave thee thy renown:
Thou hadft, in the forgotten crowd
Of common beauties liv'd unknown,
Had not my verse exhal'd thy name,
And with it impt the wings of fame.

That killing power is none of thine,
I gave it to thy voice and eyes:
Thy sweets, thy graces, all are mine;

Thou art my ftar, shin'ft in my skies;
Then dart not, from thy borrow'd sphere,
Lightning on him that fix'd thee there.

Tempt me with fuch affrights no more,
Left what I made I uncreate:

Let fools thy mystic forms adore,

I'll know thee in thy mortal state.
Wife poets that wrapp'd Truth in tales,
Knew her themselves through all her veils.

SONG X.

TO A LADY MORE CRUEL THAN FAIR.

BY MR. VAN BROOK.

WHY d'ye with fuch disdain refuse

An humble lovers plea?

Since Heaven denies you power to chuse,
You ought to value me.

Ungrateful mistress of a heart,

Which I fo freely gave;

Though weak your bow, though blunt your dart,
I foon refign'd your slave.

Nor was

I weary of your reign,

"Till you a tyrant grew,

And feem'd regardless of my pain,

As nature feem'd of you.

When thousands with unerring eyes

Your beauty would decry,
What graces did my love devise,
To give their truths the lie?

To every grove I told your charms,
In you my heav'n I plac'd,
Propofing pleasures in your arms,

Which none but I could taste.

For