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BY MR. GARRICK*.
YE fair married dames, who fo often deplore,
That a lover once bless'd is a lover no more ;
The bloom of your cheek, and the glance of your eye,
Use the man that you wed like your fav’rite guittar ;
The sparrow and linnet will feed from your hand,
Be gay and good-humour’d, complying and kind;
Sung by mrs. Cibber, in the comedy of The way to keep him.
THE WAY TO KEEP HIM.
E fair possess’d of every charm
the will; Whose smiles can rage itself disarm;
Whose frowns at once can kill:
Where flattery bears no part ;
And candid from the heart?
Great is your power, but, greater yet,
Mankind it might engage,
Ye all could make a cage.
For who's to beauty blind?
Unless we've strength to bind ?
Attend the counsel often told ;
Too often told in vain :
And lock the lovers chain.
Who lose again as fast;
'Tis sweetness makes it last.
FEW HAPPY MATCHES.
DY ISAAC WATTS D.D.
AY, mighty Love, and teach my song,
To whom thy sweetest joys belong,
To soften all their
Not the wild herd of nymphs and swains,
As custom leads the way:
And be as bless’d as they.
Not fordid fouls of earthly mould,
To dull embraces move :
And make a world of love.
Not the mad tribe that hell inspires
The purer bliss destroy:
On Ætnas top let furies wed,
T'improve the burning joy.
Nor the dull pairs, whose marble forms
Can mingle hearts and hands :
With ofiers for their bands.
Not minds of melancholy strain,
Can the dear bondage bless :
Or none besides the bass.
Nor can the soft enchantments hold
The rugged and the keen:
With fire-brands tied between.
Nor let the cruel fetters bind
For Love abhors the sight:
and native fear Rise and forbid delight.
Two kindeft fouls alone must meet;
And feeds their mutual loves :
And Cupids yoke the doves.
FOR R A N E L A G H.
BY WILLIAM WHITEHEAD ESO
E belles, and ye flirts, and ye pert little things,
Who trip in this frolicfome round!
The fexes at once to confound?
With each motion design'd to perplex ?
The girl who on beauty depends for support,
May call every art to her aid;
Are samples the gives of her trade.
And whom Pride has preserv'd from the snare,
Not with open and insolent air,