To pleasures of a different kind
Soon undeceiv'd I turn'd my mind;

I fought the fair, the gay, the young,

And drefs'd, and play'd, and danc'd, and fung; Vain joys! too weak my heart to move,

Ah! what are you to her I love?

When drooping on the bed of pain,
I look'd on every hope as vain;
When pitying friends ftood weeping by,
And Deaths pale fhade feem'd hovering nigh,
No terror could my flame remove,

Or fteal a thought from her I love.

Absence may bring relief, I cried,
And ftrait the dreadful hope I tried ;
Alas! in vain was ev'ry care;
Still in my heart I bore my fair ;
Ah! whither, whither fhall I rove,
To fhun despair, or fly from love?

SONG XXI.

BY ROBERT WOLSELEY ESQ

A

H! blame me not, if no despair
A paffion you inspire can end,

Nor think it ftrange, too charming fair,
If love, like other flames, afcend,

VOL. I.

C

If

L

r

If to approach a faint with prayer
Unworthy votaries pretend,
Above all merit Heaven and you
To the fincere are only due.

Long did respect awe my proud aim,
And fear t' offend my madness cover,
Like you it still reprov'd my flame,

And in the friend would hide the lover,
But by things that want a name

I the too bold truth difcover.
My words in vain are in my power,
My looks betray me every hour.

SONG XXII.

THE SILENT LOVER.

BY SIR WALTER RALEIGH.

W

RONG not, fweet miftrefs of
The merit of true paffion,

With thinking that he feels no fmart,

Who fues for no compaffion.

my

heart!

Since, if my plaints were not t' approve
The conqueft of thy beauty,

It comes not from defect of love,
But fear t'exceed my duty.

For, knowing that I fue to ferve

A faint of fuch perfection,
As all defire, but none deferve,
A place in her affection,

I rather

I rather chufe to want relief,
Than venture the revealing :
Where glory recommends the grief,
Despair disdains the healing.

Thus those defires that boil fo high
In any mortal lover,

When reason cannot make them die,
Discretion them must cover,

Yet when difcretion doth bereave
The plaints that I should utter,
Then your difcretion may perceive
That filence is a fuitor.

Silence in love bewrays more woe
Than words, though ne'er fo witty;
A beggar that is dumb, you know,
May challenge double pity.

Then wrong not, dearest to my heart!
My love for fecret paffion :

He smarteth moft that hides his fmart,
And fues for no compaffion.

She bids you give o'er

While 'tis in your power, For, except her efteem,

She can grant you no more: Her heart has been long fince Affaulted and won,

Her truth is as lafting

And firm as the fun; You'll find it more easy Your paffion to cure, Than for ever those fruitless Endeavours endure.

You may give this advice
To the wretched and wife,
But a lover like me

Will thofe precepts despise;
I fcorn to give o'er,

Were it still in my power; Though esteem were denied me, Yet her I'll adore,

A heart that's been touch'd

Will fome fympathy bear,

"Twill leffen my forrows, If fhe takes a share.

I'll count it more honour

In dying her flave, Than did her affections My steadiness crave.

You

You may tell her I'll be
Her true lover, though the
Should mankind defpife

Out of hatred to me;
"Tis mean to give o'er
'Cause we get no reward,
She loft not her worth
When I lost her regard:
My love on an altar
More noble fhall burn,
I ftill will love on,

Without hopes of return;
I'll tell her fome other
Has kindled the flame,
And I'll figh for her felf
In a counterfeit name.

SONG XXIV.

GOOD REASON FOR LOVING.

BY MR. HENRY CAREY..

AW you the nymph whom I adore,

SAW

Saw you the goddess of my heart?
And can you bid me love no more,

Or can you think I feel no smart?

So many charms around her shine,

Who can the fweet temptation fly!
Spite of her fcorn, fhe's fo divine,

That I muft love her, though I die.