[SMOLLETT.]

WHEN Sappho tun'd the raptur'd strain
The list'ning wretch forgot his pain;
With art divine the lyre she strung,
Like thee she play'd, like thee she sung.

For while she struck the quiv'ring wire
The
eager breast was all on fire;

And when she join'd the vocal lay
The captive soul was charm'd away.

But had she added still to these
Thy softer, chaster, power to please;
Thy beauteous air of sprightly youth,
Thy native smiles of artless truth;

She ne'er had pin'd beneath disdain,
She ne'er had play'd and sung in vain ;
Despair had ne'er her soul possest
To dash on rocks the tender breast.

[HAMILTON.]

Go plaintive sounds! and to the fair
My secret wounds impart,
Tell all I hope, tell all I fear,
Each motion in my heart.

But she, methinks, is list'ning now
To some enchanting strain;

The smile that triumphs o'er her brow
Seems not to heed my pain.

Yes, plaintive sounds! yet, yet delay,
Howe'er my love repine;

Let that gay minute pass away,
The next perhaps is thine.

Yes, plaintive sounds! no longer crost,
Your grief shall soon be o'er;

Her cheek, undimpled now, has lost
The smile it lately wore.

K

Yes, plaintive sounds! she now is yours,'

"Tis now your time to move; Essay to soften all her powers,

And be that softness, love."

Cease, plaintive sounds! your task is done;

That anxious tender air

Proves o'er her heart the conquest won;
I see you melting there.

Return, ye smiles, return again,
Return each sprightly grace;
I yield up to your charming reign
All that enchanting face.

I take no outward shew amiss,
Rove where you will, her eyes;

Still let her smiles each shepherd bless,
So she but hear my sighs.

WHEN charming Teraminta sings,
Each new air new passion brings;
Now I resolve, and now I fear;
Now I triumph, now despair;
Frolic now, now faint I grow ;
Now I freeze, and now I glow.
The panting zephyrs round her play,
And trembling on her lips would stay;

Now would listen, now would kiss
Trembling with divided bliss ;

Till, by her breath repuls'd, they fly,
And in low pleasing murmurs die.
Nor do I ask that she would give
By some new note, the pow'r to live;
I would, expiring with the sound,
Die on the lips that gave the wound.

[ROCHESTER.]

My dear mistress has a heart,

Soft as those kind looks she gave me, When with love's resistless art,

And her eyes, she did enslave me :

But her constancy's so weak,
She's so wild and apt to wander,
That my jealous heart would break
Should we live one day asunder.

Melting joys about her move,
Wounding pleasures, killing blisses,
She can dress her eyes in love,

And her lips can arm with kisses;
Angels listen when she speaks,

She's my delight, all mankind's wonder,

But my jealous heart would break

Should we live one day asunder.

[DORSET.]

LET the ambitious favour find

In courts and empty noise,
Whilst greater love does fill my mind

With silent real joys.

Let fools and knaves grow rich and great

And the world think 'em wise, Whilst I lie dying at her feet,

And all that world despise.