Oh Love! thy wond'rous power I own,
Let now thy clemency be shown;

And Cynthia bear a part:

Transpire her breast with equal flame,
Or let me be myself again,
And take away thy dart.

OH! how vain is ev'ry blessing,
How insipid all our joys,
Life how little worth possessing,

But when love its time employs!

Love, the purest, noblest pleasure,
That the gods on earth bestow,
Adding wealth to ev'ry treasure,
Taking pain from ev'ry woe.

ENCOMPASS'D in an angel's frame,

An angel's virtues lay;

Too soon did Heaven assert the claim,.
And call'd its own away.

My Anna's worth, my Anna's charms,

Must never more return;

What now shall fill these widow'd arms ?
Ah! me-my Anna's urn.

London: Printed by W. Bulmer and Co.

Cleveland-row, St. James's.