With faultering voice she weeping said,

Oh Dawson, monarch of my heart;
Think not thy death shall end our loves,

For thou and I will never part.

The gracious prince that gave him life

Would crown a never-dying flame;
And every tender babe I bore

Should learn to lisp the givers name.

But though, dear youth, thou should's be dragg'd

To yonder ignominious tree;
Thou shalt not want a faithful friend

To share thy bitter fate with thee.

O then her mourning coach was call’d,

The fledge mov'd slowly on before ;
Though borne in a triumphal car,

She had not loy'd her favourite more.

She follow'd him, prepar’d to view

The terrible behests of law;
And the last scene of Jemmys woes

With calm and stedfaft eye she saw.

Distorted was that blooming face,

Which she had fondly lov'd so long: And stilled was that tuneful breath,

Which in her praise had sweetly sung:

And sever'd was that beauteous neck,

Round which her arms had fondly clos'd : And mangled was that beauteous breast,

On which her love-fick head repos'd :

And ravish'd was that constant heart,

She did to every heart prefer ;
For though it could its king forget,

'Twas true and loyal still to her.

Amid those unrelenting flames

She bore this constant heart to fee; But when 'twas moulder'd into dust,

Now, now, she cried, I follow thee.

My death, my death alone can show
The

pure and lasting love I bore: Accept o heav'n! of woes like ours,

And let us, let us weep no more.

The dismal scene was o'er and past,

The lovers mournful hearse retir'd; The maid drew back her languid head,

And fighing forth his name, expir'd.

Though

L O y E-S O N G S.

FA

AIREST ifle, all isles excelling,

Seat of pleasure and of love,
Venus here will chuse her dwelling,

And forsake her Cyprian grove.

Cupid, from his fav'rite nation,

Care and envy will remove,
Jealousy that poisons passion,

And despair that dies for love.

* In the opera of King Arthur.

Gentle

Gentle murmurs, sweet complaining,

Sighs that blow the fire of love,
Soft repulses, kind disdaining,

Shall be all the pains you prove;
Every swain shall pay his duty,

Grateful every nymph shall prove;
And as these excel in beauty,

Those shall be renown'd for love.