She calls me her friend, but her lover denies ;

She smiles when I'm cheerful, but hears not my

sighs.

A bosom so flinty, so gentle an air,

Inspires me with hope, and yet bids me despair.

I fall at her feet and implore her with tears;
Her answer confounds, while her manner endears:
When softly she tells me to hope no relief
My trembling lips bless her in spite of my grief.

By night, when I slumber, still haunted with carę,
I start up in anguish, and sigh for the fair.

The fair sleeps in peace, may she ever do so!
And only when dreaming imagine my woe.

Then gaze at a distance, nor farther aspire,
Nor think she could love whom she cannot admire:
Hush all thy complaining, and dying her slave
Commend her to heaven, and thyslf to the grave.

YE

[ETHERIDGE.]

Ye happy swains whose hearts are free

From love's imperial chain,

Take warning and be taught by me

T" avoid th' inchanting pain; Juts

Fatal the wolves to trembling flocks,
Fierce winds to blossoms prove,
To careless seamen hidden rocks,
To human quiet love.

Fly the fair sex if bliss you prize,
The snake's beneath the flower;
Who ever gaz'd on beauteous eyes
That tasted quiet more?
How faithless is the lover's joy
How constant is their care!
The kind with falsehood do destroy,
The cruel with despair.

[PARNEL.]

WHEN your beauty appears

In its graces and airs,

All bright as an angel new dropt from the sky;
At distance I gaze, and am aw'd by my fears,
So strangely you dazzle my eye!

But when without art,

Your kind thoughts you impart,

When your love runs in blushes thro' every vein; When it darts from your eyes, when it pants in your Then I know you're a woman again. [heart,

There's passion and pride

In our sex, she replied,

And thus, might I gratify both, would I do; Still an angel appear to each lover beside, But yet be a woman to you,

[SIR CHARLES SEDLEY.]

As Amoret with Phillis sat
One evening on the plain,
And saw the gentle Strephon wait
To tell the nymph his pain,

The threat'ning danger to remove,
She whisper'd in her ear,

Ah Phillis! if you would not love,
That shepherd do not hear.

None ever had so strange an art
His passion to convey
Into a list'ning virgin's heart,

And steal her soul away.

Fly, fly betimes for fear you give

Occasion for your fate,

In vain, said she, in vain I strive

Alas! 'tis now too late.

1

[BY BERKELEY.*]

CAN love be controll❜d by advice,
Can madness and reason agree ?

O Molly, who'd ever be wise,

If madness is loving of thee?

Let sages pretend to despise

The joys they want spirits to taste,
Let us seize old time as he flies,

And the blessings of life while they last.

Dull wisdom but adds to our cares;
Brisk love will improve ev'ry joy,
Too soon we may meet with gray hairs,
Too late may repent being coy.

Then, Molly, for what should we stay
Till our best blood begins to run cold?
Our youth we can have but to day,

We may always find time to grow old.

MORTALS, learn your lives to measure
Not by length of time, but pleasure;
Now the hours invite, comply;
While you idly pause, they fly:
Blest, a nimble pace they keep,

But in torment, then they creep.

* It has been said that this song was written for the once well known Lady Vane.

Mortals, learn your lives to measure
Not by length of time, but pleasure ;
Soon your spring must have a fall;
Losing youth, is losing all:

Then you'll ask, but none will give,
And may linger, but not live.

BID me, when forty winters more
Have furrow'd deep my pallid brow,
When from my head, a scanty store,
Lankly the wither'd tresses flow;
When the warm tide, that bold and strong
Now rolls impetuous on and free,
Languid and slow scarce creeps along,
Then bid me court sobriety.

Nature, who form'd the varied scene
Of rage and calm, of frost and fire,
Unerring guide, could only mean,
That age should reason, youth desire.
Shall then that rebel man, presume
(Inverting nature's law) to seize

The dues of age in youth's high bloom,
And join impossibilities ?