All other ills, though fharp they prove,
Serve to refine and perfect love:
In absence, or unkind disdain,
Sweet hope relieves the lovers pain:
But, ah, no cure but death we find
To fet us free

From Jealoufy:

O Jealoufy!

Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy,

Thou tyrant of the mind.

Falfe in thy glass all objects are,

Some fet too near, and fome too far:
Thou art the fire of endless night,
The fire that burns, and gives no light.
All torments of the damn'd we find
In only thee,

O Jealousy!

Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealoufy,
Thou tyrant of the mind.

SONG L.

BY EDMUND WALLER ESQ

SAY

AY, lovely dream, where could'st thou find
Shades to counterfeit that face?

Colours of this glorious kind
Come not from any mortal place.

In Heaven itself thou fure wert drest
With that angel-like difguife;
Thus deluded am I bleft,

And fee my joy with closed eyes.

But ah! this image is too kind
To be other than a dream :
Cruel Sachariffas mind

Never put on that sweet extreme!

Fair dream! if thou intend'st me grace,
Change that heavenly face of thine;

Paint defpis'd love in thy face,

And make it to appear like mine.

Pale, wan, and meagre let it look,
With a pity-moving shape;

Such as wander by the brook

Of Lethe, or from graves escape.

Then to that matchlefs nymph appear,
In whofe fhape thou shinest so;

Softly in her fleeping ear,

With humble words exprefs my woe.

Perhaps from greatnefs, ftate, and pride,
Thus furprised she may fall:

Sleep does difproportion hide,
And death refembling, equals all.

SONG

SONG LI.

LOVE FOR LOVES

SAKE.

BY MR. HENRY CAREY,

I'LL range around the fhady bowers,
And gather all the sweetest flowers;
I'll ftrip the garden and the grove,
To make a garland for my love.

When, in the fultry heat of day,
My thirsty nymph does panting lay,
I'll haften to the rivers brink,

And drain the floods but fhe fhall drink.

At night, to reft her weary head,
I'll make my love a graffy bed;

And with green boughs I'll form a fhade,
That nothing may her reft invade.

And whilft diffolv'd in fleep fhe lies,
Myself fhall never close these eyes;
But gazing ftill with fond delight,
I'll watch my charmer all the night.

And then, as foon as chearful day
Difpels the darksome shades away,
Forth to the foreft I'll repair,
To feek provifion for my fair.

Thus

Thus will I fpend the day and night,
Still mixing labour with delight;
Regarding nothing I endure,
So I can eafe for her procure.

But if the nymph, whom thus I love,
To her fond fwain fhould faithlefs prove,
I'll feek fome difmal diftant fhore,
And never think of woman more.

SONG LII.

BY LORD

W

LANSDOWN.

HY cruel creature, why fo bent,
To vex a tender heart?

To gold and title you relent;
Love throws in vain his dart.

Let glittering fops in courts be great,
For pay let armies move:
Beauty fhould have no other bait,
But gentle vows and love,

If on thofe endless charms you lay
The value that's their due

Kings are themselves too poor to pay
A thousand worlds too few.

But

But if a paffion without vice,
Without disguise or art,

Ah Celia! if true love's your price,
Behold it in my heart.

SONG LIII.

HE fun was funk beneath the hill,

TH

The western clouds were lin❜d with gold,

The fky was clear, the winds were still,

The flocks were pent within the fold; When from the filence of the grove, Poor Damon thus defpair'd of love :

Who feeks to pluck the fragrant rose

From the bare rock or oozy beach;
Who, from each barren weed that grows,
Expects the grape or blushing peach;
With equal faith may hope to find
The truth of love in womankind.

I have no herds, no fleecy care,

No fields that wave with golden grain, No paftures green, or gardens fair,

A damfels venal heart to gain; Then all in vain my fighs must prove, For I, alas! have nought but love.

How