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But if it has been taught by thine,
To forfeit both
Its word and oath,
Yet send me back my heart and eyes,
Shalt grieve and mourn,
For one will scorn
BY RICHARD BRINSLEY SHERID AN ESQ. *
H! cruel maid, how haft thou chang'd
The temper of my mind!
Becomes like thee unkind,
By fortune favour'd, clear in fame,
I once ambitious was;
And gave my youth applause.
But now my weakness all abuse,
Yet vain their taunts on me;
To gain one smile from thee.
In the comic opera of The Dưenna,
Yet only thou should'f not despise
My folly or my woe;
'Tis thou hast made me fo!
But days like these, with doubting curs'd,
I will not long endure :
And also know my cure.
If, false, her vows the dare renounce,
She instant ends my pain :
Which cannot hate again.
THE DESPONDING SHEPHERD.
BY MRS. PILKINGTON *.
O melancholy thoughts a prey,
With love and grief oppress’d;
And all the night to rest :
* The eight first, and four last lines of this song appear in the above ladys memoirs as they are printed at p. 33. and the present copy did not occur time enough to supply the deficiency. The editor had no hesitation in prefixing mrs. Pilkingtons name to this copy; as it is probable, either that her memory deceived her, or that some other mistake happened, at the time of printing her memoirs : the whole being evidently the composition of one and the same person, and possessing too much merit not to have been claimed by a different author,
For thee, disdainful fair, I pine
And wake the tender figh; By that obdurate heart of thine,
My balmy bleffings fly.
The fabborn rocks, than thee less hard,
Will kind compassion fhow ;
And echo back my woe.
Unpitying hear me grieve ;
Nor with a smile relieve.
O think how soon that heav'nly bloom,
By which you tyrannize, Shall fade, and thare the common doom,
And death shall veil those eyes! Then look to yon celestial sphere,
Where fouls with raptures glow, And dread to need that pity there,
Which you denied below.
IN CLASS IV.
E virgin pow'rs, defend my heart
From am'rous looks and smiles ;
Which most our sex beguiles ;
That do to pity move ;
Those springs that water love.
Let honour be my guide ;
There fix a guard of pride.
And worthy of its aid;
The foonest are betray'd.
Y my fighs you may discover,
What soft wishes touch my heart; Eyes can speak and tell the lover,
What the tongue must not impart.
Blushing shame forbids revealing
Thoughts your breast may disapprove;
When we truly fondly love.
BY MR. MENDEZ. *
AIN is ev'ry fond endeavour
To resist the tender dart;
We must feel, to know the smart.
And our beauties sets to view;
Bids us think it all our due.
Softer than the vernal breezes
Is the mild deceitful strain ;
Flatt'ry never sues in vain.
Does our tend'rest hopes deceive;
Foolish woman to believe.
BY SHAKS PEARET.
S Men were deceivers ever;
IGH no more, ladies, figh no more,
Men were deceivers ever;
Then figh not so,
But let them go,
Into, hey nonny, nonny. * In The Chaplet. + Io Much ado about Nothing,