The joys they want fpirits to tafte; Let us feize old Time as he flies, And the bleffings of life while they last. Dull wifdom but adds to our cares; Brifk love will improve every joy; Too foon we may meet with grey hairs, Then, Then, Molly, for what fhould we stay, SONG LIX. BY MR. ROBERT LLOYD, Τ HOUGH winter its defolate train Yét Flora fteps forward again, And nature rejoices in fpring. Though the fun in his glories decreast, And repairs them again in the morn. But what can youths funshine recall, Or the bloffoms of beauty restore? When its leaves are beginning to fall, It dies, and is heard of no more. The fpring-time of love then employ, 'Tis a leffon that's easy to learn, For Cupid's a vagrant, a boy, And his feafons will never return. SONG SONG LX. BY MR. CHARLES CHURCHILL. W HEN youth, my Celia, 's in the prime, "Tis Nature dictates; sport and play, How fweet to feel loves foft alarms, Dull winter comes with dreary froft, The fun declines, and yields to night, Then Then take the boon kind Heav'n beftows, SONG LXI. THE WINTERS B WALK. BY DR. JOHNSON. EHOLD, my fair, wheree'er we rove, The naked hill, the leaflefs grove, Not only through the wafted plain, Enlivening Hope and fond Defire Refign the heart to Spleen and Care; Scarce frighted Love maintains her fire, And Rapture faddens to despair. In groundless hope, and caufelefs fear, Tir'd with vain joys, and falfe alarms, SONG LXII. TO A LADY ASKING HIM HOW LONG HE WOULD LOVE HER. BY SIR GEORGE ETHEREGE? T is not, Celia, in our power our will laft; It may be, we, within this hour, The bleffed, that immortal be, Then, fince we mortal lovers are, Ask not how long our love will last; VOL, I. To live, becaufe we're fure to die? R Fear |