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I'm not to be stinted in pleasure,

Then prithee my charmer be kind, For whilft I love thee above measure

To numbers I'll ne'er be confin'd.

Count the bees that on Hybla are playing,

Count the flow’rs that enamel its fields, Count the flocks that on Tempe are straying,

Or the grain that rich Sicily yields. Go number the stars in the heaven,

Count how many sands on the shore, When so many kisses you've given

I still shall be craving for more.

To a heart full of love let me hold thee,

To a heart which, dear Chloe, is thine; With my arms I'll for ever infold thee,

And twist round thy neck like a vine.
What joy can be greater than this is ?

My life on thy lips shall be spent ;
But the wretch that can number his kisses

With few will be ever content.

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W

7 HEN charming Teraminta fings,

Each new air new passion brings ;
Now I resolve, and now I fear ;
Now I triumph, now despair ;

Frolic now, now faint I grow;
Now I freeze, and now I glow.
The panting Zephyrs round her play,
And trembling on her lips would stay;

Now would listen, now would kiss,
Trembling with divided bliss;
'Till, by her breath repuls'd, they fly,
And in low pleasing murmurs die.
Nor do I ask that she would give
By some new note, the pow'r to live;
I would, expiring with the found,
Die on the lips that gave the wound.

SONG XXXIII.

Τ Η E F Ε Μ Α Ι Ε Ρ Η Α Ε Τ Ο Ν.

BY MATHEW PRIOR ESQ. ?

T

HUS Kitty beautiful and young,

And wild as colt untam'd;
Bespoke the Fair from whom she sprung,
With little

rage

inflam'd.
Inflam'd with rage at sad restraint,

Which wise mamma ordain'd;
And forely vex'd to play the saint,

Whilft wit and beauty reign'd.

* Lady Catharine Hyde, afterwards duchess of Queensberry.

Shall

Shall I thumb holy books, confin'd

With Abigails forsaken?
Kitty's for other things design'd,

Or I am much mistaken.
Must lady Jenny + frisk about,

And visit with her cousins?
At balls must she make all the rout

And bring home hearts by dozens?

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I'll soon with Jennys pride quit score,

Make all her lovers fall;
They'll grieve I was not loos’d before,

She, I was loos’d at all.
Fondness prevail'd, mamma gave way;

Kitty, at hearts defire,
Obtain'd the chariot for a day,

And set the world on fire!

# Lady Jane Hyde, then countess of Eflex, who died in France 1722,

SONG

SONG XXXIV.

BY MRS. PILKINGTON.

STE

"TELL A and Flavia, ev'ry hour,

Unnumber'd hearts surprise ; In Stellas foul lies all her pow'r,

And Flavias in her eyes.

More boundless Flavias conquests are,

And Stellas more confin'd;
All can discern a face that's fair,

But few a lovely mind.

Stella, like Britains monarch, reigns

O'er cultivated lands;
Like Eastern tyrants, Flavia deigns

To rule o'er barren fands.

Then boait, fair Flavia, boast your face,

Your beautys only store;
Your charms will ev'ry day decrease,

Each day gives Stella more.

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SONG XXXV.

BY DR. A KENSIDE.

T T

HE shape alone let others prize,

The features of the fair ; I look for spirit in her eyes,

And meaning in her air.

A damak cheek, and ivory arm,

Shall ne'er my wishes win, Give me an animated form,

That speaks a mind within.

A face where aweful honour shines,

Where sense and sweetness move, And angel innocence refines

The tenderness of love.

These are the foul of beautys frame,

Without whose vital aid, Unfinish'd all her features seem,

And all her roses dead.

But ah! where both their charms unite,

How perfect is the view, With every image of delight,

With graces ever new.

Of

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