1

C

The Rover.

UPID, difarm thyself on me,
And all thy arrows fpends

I court thy fear'd artillery;

Shoot then, and be my friend.

I only dread thy fparing rage,

By which I am confin'd;

Do not my thoughts to one engage,
That's mercilessly kind.

What common plowman idly wou'd
On one small spot bestow,
What he to nobler purpose fhou'd
Upon whole acres fow?

Believe me, Cupid, those thy best
And useful captives prove,
Who not in this or that will rest,
But rove in conftant love.

The

C

The Shepherd's Enquiry.

E A SE your musick, gentle fwains:
Saw you Delia crofs the plains?

Every thicket, every grove,
Have I rang'd, to find my love.
A kid, a lamb, my flock I give;
Tell me only, does the live?

White her skin, as mountain fnow;
In her cheeks, the rofes blow:
And, her eye is brighter far,
Than the beamy morning-star..
When her ruddy lip you view,
'Tis a berry, moist with dew.
Sweet fhe breathes, as evening gales,
Paffing o'er the fragrant vales:
Wide her bofom opens, gay
As the flow'ry field in May.
Low, her gloffy treffes twine,
Like the tendrels, on the vine.
Like the hind, before the hounds,
Thro' the filent lawn fhe bounds:
And with lightfome foot fhe treads,
When the winding dance fhe leads.

Tell me, shepherds, have you feen
My delight; my little queen?

HARK,

H

ARK, Lucinda, to the wooing, Murm'ring turtles am'rous cooing; Shelly grotts their love rebound: Streams along the pebbles trilling, Heart with trembling pleasure filling, Sweetly answer to the found.

Twisted boughs above combining, Loving joy around them twining, Guard thee with a mingled fhade: Purple vi❜lets, blushing roses, Od'rous flowers in various pofies, Dress thy bofom and thy head.

See! their tender beings flying! Quickly fading, quickly dying! Beauty ne'er was fram'd to laftLet the lover once advise thee, To improve the good that flies thee; Soon, ah! foon, the season's past.

Air with hollow tempefts fwelling, Gathering clouds a storm foretelling, Shroud in night the fairest day:

Springing beauty, gaily blooming, Sees not lowry winter's coming, To December change her May.]

W

HILE youth, my Lesbia, love infpires,
While warm our vig'rous fpirits play,
Let's give the rein to gay defires,
Nor heed what fnarling dotards fay,-

The fates permit the fetting fun

To rise next morn, with equal light; But we, when our fhort day is done, Must sleep eternity of night.

Give me a thoufand kiffes then,

Give me, my dear, a hundred more;

Begin the thousand all again,

Again repeat the hundred o'er.

Then when they many thousands be,

We'll kifs confus'd to lose th' account, 197I

For wretched poor, methinks, is he,

That knows to what his fums amount.

H

SAPPHO.

ATL, facred mufe, and vocal fhell,
That wont the joys of love to tell;
Now turn your fong to mournful strains,
My joys are fled, my love remains!

Wanton Cupid, idle toyer,
Pleafing tyrant, foft destroyer,

Do not thus my heart controul.
Phäon flies me far away,

Reafon does renounce thy fway,
Yet contented I obey.
Ever raging,

Paft affwaging, t

Love poffeffes all my foul.·

Beneath this fad and filent gloom, od tros
I waste my beauty, youth, and bloom:
But not the fhades that banish day
Drive Phäon's brighter form away;
A youth fo fhap'd, with fuch a mien,
A front, like that of love, ferene,
With sparkling eyes and flowing hair,
And wit that ever charms the fair,
The fpightful gods contriv'd for ruin,
And deck'd him thus for my undoing.