SONG XL. BY AARON HILL ESQ ENTLE Love, this hour befriend me, GE To my eyes refign thy dart; Notes of melting mufic lend me, Chill, as mountain fnow, her bofom; See! my dying eyes are pleading, With the eloquence of tears. While the lamp of life is fading, SONG XLI. CONSTANCY. BY THE EARL OF ROCHESTER. I Cannot change, as others do, Though you unjustly scorn: No, Phillis, no, your heart to move, And to revenge my flighted love, Will ftill love on and die. When, kill'd with grief, Amyntas lies; And you to mind fhall call, The fighs that now unpitied rife, The tears that vainly fall: That welcome hour that ends this fmart, Will then begin your pain; For fuch a faithful tender heart SONG XLII. BY MRS. PILKINGTON. T° O melancholy thoughts a prey, For thee, difdainful fair, I pine, O look to yon celeftial sphere, And dread to want that mercy there, VOL. I. D SONG For though the Muses should prove kind, To wave the azure main, Our paper, pen, and ink, and we, Then if we write not by each pok, Our tears we'll fend a speedier way, The tide shall bring them twice a day. *« Written at sea, in the firâ Dutch war, 1665, the night before an engagement." The King, with wonder and surprise, Bring floods of grief to Whitehall stairs. Should foggy Opdam chance to know The Dutch would fcorn fo weak a foe, And quit their fort at Goree : For what refiftance can they find From men who've left their hearts behind? Let wind and weather do its worst, Be you to us but kind; Let Dutchmen vapour, Spaniards curfe, No forrow we shall find: "Tis then no matter how things go, Or who's our friend, or who's our foe. To pass our tedious hours away, We were undone when we left you. With a fa, &c. D 2 But But now our fears tempeftuous grow, Perhaps permit fome happier man With a fa, &c. When any mournful tune you hear, That dies in every note; As if it figh'd with each man's care, For being fo remote: Think then how often love we've made To you, when all thofe tunes were play'd. With a fa, &c. In justice you cannot refuse, To think of our diftrefs; When we for hopes of honour lofe All thofe defigns are but to prove And now we've told you all our loves, Let's hear of no inconftancy, We have too much of that at fea. With a fa, la, la, la, la. SONG |