Still Innocence and Virtue lead the round,

With Mirth and Pleasure all our days are crown'd. And O! if Heaven will hear my ardent prayer, And grant a wish, which from my bosom ne'er Shall be remov'd-long may these shades obey

The mild commands of her, whose name adorns this

lay!

ΤΟ Α

LADY,

WITH A

PRESENT OF POPE's WORKS.

BY THE

HON. CHARLES YORKE.

THE lover oft, to please some faithless dame,
With vulgar presents feeds the dying flame,
Then adds a verse, of slighted vows complains,
While she the giver and the gift disdains,
These strains no idle suit to thee commend,
On whom gay Loves with chaste Desires attend;
Nor fancied excellence, nor amorous care,
Prompts to rash praise, or fills with fond despair;
Enough, if the fair volume find access;
Thee the great poet's lay shall best express;
Thy beauteous image there thou may'st regard,
Which strikes with modest awe the meaner bard.
Sure, had he living view'd thy tender youth,
The blush of honor, and the grace of truth,

Ne'er with Belinda's charms his song had glow'd,
But from thy form the lov'd idea flow'd;
His wanton satire ne'er the sex had scorn'd,
For thee, by Virtue and the Muse adorn'd.

ΤΟ

A LADY,

SENT HER WITH

LORD LANSDOWNE's HEROIC LOVE.

THE noble Granville here has nicely shown

Heroic Love, a copy of his own;

No flight of fancy, but his heart indites

These moving scenes; and what he feels, he writes.
With love like his, though in unequal lays,
Too charming Maid, I offer at thy praise.
Look on Chryseis; she each feature drew
In nature's pride, and sure she sate for you.
Observe her sad farewell, she best can give
The dire account, what 'tis to part-and live!
You 've all her charms, her beauty, and her youth;
But want, I fear, her kindness, and her truth.

Well had it been for Priam and his race, Had Fate set me in Agamemnon's place, And you Chryseis: glory should have strove But faintly then against the force of Love.

Deaf to renown, and scorning to be great,
I'd left the camp for some obscure retreat.
There, gazing on those lovely eyes, prefer
One smile of yours to all the pomp of war ;
And, every mark of royalty laid down,

Had languish'd at your feet, and sav'd the town.