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No, Phillis, no, your heart to move,

A surer way I'll try :
And to revenge my slighted love,

Will still love on and die.

When, kill'd with grief, Amyntas lies;

And you to mind shall call,
The fighs that now unpitied rise,

The tears that vainly fall:
That welcome hour that ends this smart,

Will then begin your pain ;
For such a faithful tender heart

Can never break in vain.

SONG XLII.

BY MRS. PILKINGTON,

To

O melancholy thoughts a prey,

With love and grief oppreft ; To peace a stranger all the day,

And all the night to reft.

For thee, disdainful fair, I pine,

And wake the tender figh; By that obdurate heart of thine,

My balmy blessings fly.

O look to yon celestial sphere,

Where fouls in rapture glow,
And dread to want that mercy there,
Which

you

refus'd below.

VOL. I.

D

SONG

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For though the Muses should prove kiná,

And fill our empty brain ;
Yet if rough Neptune rouse the wind

To wave the azure main,
Our paper, pen, and ink, and we,
Roll

up and down our ships at sea.
With a fa, &c.

Then if we write not by each post,

Think not we are unkind;
Nor yet conclude our ships are lost

By Dutchmen or by wind:
Our tears we'll send a speedier way,
The tide hall bring them twice a day.

With a fa, &c.

* “ Written at sea, in the fir& Dutch war, 1665, the night before an engagement."

The

bold;

The King, with wonder and surprise,
Will swear the seas

grow Because the tides will higher rise,

Than e'er they did of old :
But let him know it is our tears
Bring floods of grief to Whitehall stairs.

With a fa, &c.

Should foggy Opdam chance to know

Our fad and dismal story;
The Dutch would scorn so weak a foe,

And quit their fort at Goree :
For what resistance can they find
From men who've left their hearts behind ?

With a fa, &c.

Let wind and weather do its worst,

Be you to us but kind,
Let Dutchmen vapour, Spaniards curse,

No forrow we shall find :
'Tis then no matter how things go,
Or who's our friend, or who's our foe.

With a fa, &c.

To pass our tedious hours away,

We throw a merry main ;
Or else at serious ombre play ;

But why should we in vain
Each others ruin thus pursue ?
We were undone when we left you.

With a fa, &c.

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But now our fears tempestuous grow,

And caft our hopes away;
Whilft you, regardless of our woe,

Sit careless at a play:
Perhaps permit fome happier man
To kiss your hand, or flirt your fan.

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 those tunes were play'd.

With a fa, &c.

In justice you cannot refuse,

To think of our distress;
When we for hopes of honour lose

Our certain happiness ;
All thofe designs are but to prove
Ourselves more worthy of your love.

With a fa, &c.

And now we've told you all our loves,

And likewise all our fears;
In hopes this declaration moves

Some pity for our tears :
Let's hear of no inconstancy,
We have too much of that at fea.

With a fa, la, la, la, la.

.

SONG

SONG XLIV.

BY LORD LYTTELTON*,

T!

HE heavy hours are almost past

That part my love and me: My longing eyes may hope at last,

Their only wish to see.

But how, my Delia, will you meet

The man you've lost so long? Will love in all your pulses beat,

And tremble on your tongue ?

Will you in every look declare,

Your heart is still the same; And heal each idly-anxious care,

Our fears in absence frame ?

Thus, Delia, thus I paint the scene,

When shortly we shall meet ; And try what yet remains between

Of loitering time to cheat.

But if the dream that fooths

my

mind Shall false and groundless prove; If I am doom'd at length to find

You have forgot to love :

* “ Written in the year 1733."

D 3

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