LOVE's a lovely lad!

His bringing is Beauty! Who loves him not, is mad! For I must pay him duty, Now, I am sad!

Hail to those sweet eyes,

That shine celestial wonder!

From thence, do flames arise,
Burn my poor heart asunder!
Now, it fries!

CUPID sets a crown

Upon those lovely tresses! O, spoil not, with a frown, What he so sweetly dresses! I'll sit down!

ART thou gone in haste?
I'll not forsake thee!
Runn'st thou ne'er so fast;

I'll overtake thee!

O'er the dales, o'er the downs,

Through the green meadows, From the fields, through the towns,

To the dim shadows!

All along the plain,

To the low fountains;
Up and down again,

From the high mountains:
ECHO, then, shall again

Tell her, I follow!

And the floods, to the woods,

Carry my Hollo! Hollo! Ha! ho! hu!

LOVE is a law, a discord, of such force,

That 'twixt our Sense and Reason makes divorce!
Love's a desire, that to obtain betime,
We lose an age of years plucked from our prime!
Love is a thing, to which we soon consent;
As soon refuse; but sooner far repent!

Then what must Women be, that are the cause That Love hath life! that Lovers feel such laws! They're like the winds upon Lapantha's shore ; That still are changing! O, then, love no more! A woman's love is like that Syrian flower;

That buds, and spreads, and withers, in an hour!

[HUMAN LIFE.]

THE World 's a bubble! and the life of Man
Less than a span !

In his conception, wretched; from the womb,
So to the tomb!

Curst, from the cradle; and brought up to years,
With cares and fears!

Who then to frail mortality shall trust,

But limns the water; or but writes in dust!

Yet since, with sorrow here we live opprest;
What life is best?

Courts are but only superficial Schools

To dandle Fools!

The rural parts are turned into a den
Of savage men!

And where's a City, from all vice so free,

But may be termed, the worst of all the three!

Domestic cares afflict the husband's bed;
Or pain his head!

Those that live single, take it for a curse;

Or do things worse!

[moan;

Some would have children! Those that have them, Or wish them gone!

What is it then, to have, or have no, wife,

But single thraldom, or a double strife!

Our own affections still, at home to please,
Is a disease!

To cross the sea to any foreign soil,
Perils and toil!

Wars, with their noise affright us! When they cease,
W' are worse in peace!

What then remains? But that we still should cry, Not to be born; or, being born, to die!

ON A WOMAN'S INCONSTANCY.

I LOVED thee once; I'll love no more!

Thine be the grief, as is the blame! Thou art not, what thou wast before! What reason I should be the same? He that can love, unloved again, Hath better store of love than brain! God send me love, my debts to pay; While unthrifts fool their love away!

Nothing could have my love o'erthrown;
If thou hadst still continued mine!
Yea, if thou hadst remained thy own;
I might, perchance, have yet been thine!
But thou, thy freedom didst recall;
That, if thou might, elsewhere enthral!
And, then, how could I but disdain
A captive's captive to remain !

When new desires had conquered thee,
And changed the object of thy will;
It had been lethargy in me,

Not constancy, to love thee still!

Yea, it had been a sin to go

And prostitute affection so;

Since we are taught, No prayers to say
To such as must to others pray.