Thus I that could her friendship boast, Am taught contentment, at the cost Of love and friendship too. SONG XXXII. HEN fair Serrena first I knew WH By friendships happy union charm'd, Inceffant joys around her flew, And gentle fmiles my bofom warm'd. But when, with fond officious care, I prefs'd to breathe my amorous pain; Her lips fpoke nought but cold defpair, fhot ice through every vein. Her eyes Thus, in Italias lovely vales, The fun his genial vigour yields; Reviving heat each fenfe regales, And plenty crowns the fmiling fields. When nearer we approach his ray; High on the Alps tremendous brow, Surpris'd we fee pale fun-beams play On everlasting hills of fnow. 0. SONG SONG XXXIII. of AIREST of thy fex and best, "Twill eafe the torment of my breast, No fond ambition me does move I afk not for return of love, SONG XXXIV. FROM THE FRENCH. BY MICHAEL WODHULL ESQ. Cou OULD you guess, for I ill can repeat The fenfation I'm deftin'd to prove; "Tis fomething than friendship more sweet, More paffionate even than love. For ever, when abfent from you, This the fecret I had to betray; And the fate of my paffion is fuch, That in what I was prompted to say, Methinks I have utter'd too much. O. SONG SONG XXXV. L'AMOUR TIMIDE. FROM THE FRENCH. BY SIR JOHN MOORE. F in that breaft, fo good, so pure, IF Pity the forrows I endure, The caufe-I must not-dare not tell. The grief that on my quiet preys That rends my heart—that checks my tongue I fear will last me all my days, But feel it will not last me long. T SONG XXXVI. BY • HE filver rain, the pearly dew, The gales that sweep along the mead, And marbles have found tears to shed: The fighing trees, in every grove, *In mrs. Clives (two act) comedy of the Rehearsal, or Bayes in petticoats. Shall Shall things inanimate be kind, And every foft fenfation know; The weeping rain, and fighing wind, SONG XXXVII. BY MATHEW PRIOR ESQ W HILST I am fcorch'd with hot defire, In vain cold friendship you return; Your drops of pity on my fire Alas! but make it fiercer burn. Ah! would you have the flame fuppreft SONG XXXVIII. BY MRS. BEHN. IS not your faying that you love, Can cafe me of my fmart: Your actions muft your words approve, In vain you bid my paffions cease, GI would not die, nor dare complain: O tell Amynta, gentle fwain, Thy tuneful voice with numbers join, A figh or tear perhaps fhe'll give, But love on pity cannot live; Tell her that hearts for hearts were made, And love with love is only paid, Tell her my pains fo faft increase, SONG |