One morning very early, one morning in the spring

69

Tell me no more of pointed darts

Take, oh, take those lips away

Tell me,

Damon, dost thou languish

Tell me no more I am deceived

Tell me not how fair she is

Tell me not I my time misspend

Tell my Strephon that I die

261

322

209

324

153

345

143

The nymph that I lov'd was as cheerful as day

315

The rose had been wash'd, just wash'd in a show'r
The shape and face let others prize

There is one dark and sullen hour
The sun was sunk beneath the hill
The western sky was purpled o'er.
This bottle's the sun of our table

144

70

77

342

Too plain, dear youth, those tell-tale eyes

117

To the brook and the willow that heard him complain 139

Wake, ye nightingales, oh wake
Waken, Lords and Ladies gay
We all to conquering beauty bow
What, put off with one denial
When all was wrapt in dark midnight
When charming Teraminta sings
When Damon languish'd at my feet
When daisies pied and violets blue
When Delia on the plain appears
When first I dar'd by soft surprise
When first I saw Lucinda's face
When first I saw thee graceful move
When first I sought fair Celia's love
When first upon your tender cheek
When gay Philander fell a prize_

When gentle Celia first I knew
When here Lucinda first we came
When lovely woman stoops to folly

125

313

300

273

198

53

131

319

259

109

275

236

120

202

234

287

232

141

142

When Orpheus went down to the regions below

When Sappho tun'd the rapturd strain

211

128

Why heaves my fond bosom! ah, what can it mean

321

With amorous wiles and perjur'd eyes
With women I have pass'd my days

288

289

Ye happy swains whose hearts are free

Ye little loves that round her wait

327

my heart

261

148

205

Yes, I'm in love, I feel it now

204

You tell me I'm handsome, I know not how true

294

Young I am,

and yet unskill'd

156

Otway, 137, 298.

Parnell, 149, 331.

Percy, 37, 161.

Phillips, 101, 187, 188, 199.

Pilkington, Rev. M. 340.

Mrs. 231, 346.

Prior, 67, 105, 106, 108, 215.
Pulteney, 212.

Raleigh, 261, 303.

Rochester, E. of 131, 203, 329.

Rowe, 62, 65, 139.

Scott, Walter, 337.

Sedley, 150, 190, 197.

Shakspeare, 259, 260, 261.

Shenstone, 77, 82, 84, 87, 89, 195.

Sheridan, 279, 280, 310, 311, 314, 342.

Smollett, 102, 128.

Steel, 143, 199.

Suckling, 228, 330.

Taylor, Mrs. 238, 325.

Theobald, 134.

Thomson, 306.

Tickell, 49.

Vanbrugh, 284.

Waller, 223, 237.

Walsh, 219.

Way, 318.

Whitehead, 204, 316.

Yonge, Sir W. 201, 241.

THE

ORIGIN OF SONG-WRITING.

Addressed to DR. AIKIN.

[MRS. BARBAULD.]

Illic indocto primum se exercuit arcu ;
Hei mihi quam doctas nunc habet ille manus!

Tibullus.

WHEN Cupid, wanton boy, was young,
His wings unfledg'd, and rude his tongue,
He loiter'd in Arcadian bowers,
And hid his bow in wreaths of flowers;
Or pierc'd some fond unguarded heart,
With now and then a random dart;
But heroes scorn'd the idle boy,
And love was but a shepherd's toy:
When Venus, vex'd to see her child
Amid the forests thus run wild,
Would point him out some nobler game,
Gods, and godlike men to tame.
She seiz'd the boy's reluctant hand,
And led him to the virgin band,
Where the sister Muses round

Swell the deep majestic sound;
And in solemn strains unite,
Breathing chaste, severe delight;