OPELESS I languish out my days, H Struck with Urania's conquering eyes; The wretch at whom the darts these rays Though endless be her cruelty, Calling her beauties to my mind, I bow beneath her tyranny, And dare not murmur, fhe's unkind. Reason this tamenefs does upbraid, *fenfe. But ftrait her fuccour fhe denies ; And, joining forces with the fair, Confirms the conqueft of her eyes. ་་་ BLYTH B LYTH was I each morn to fee My fwain come o'er the hill, He leap'd the brook, and flew to me; I neither wanted yew nor lamb, He tun'd his pipe and play'd fo fweet, The birds fat liftning by; & And the dull cattle stood and gaz'd, He did oblige me.every hour; He won my heart; cou'd I refuse Whate'er he ask'd of me? Hard fate that I must banish'd be, Go heavily and mourn, Cause I oblig'd the kindeft fwain mala That ever yet was born. G o, happy paper, doubly bleft, If not too great to be exprest, Tell her how raging is my flame, But fay not how, nor whence you came, O! be that moment ever bleft, 1 faw ten thousand graces rife Ten thousand arrows from her eyes In vain the envious fhades of night, Cou'd veil her image from my fight, Which o'er my wifhes reigns, That thrill thro' all my veins. Let Let me be loft in thy embrace, As rivers in the fea; Or live eternity of days, To love and honour thee! In thofe dear arms (but fate controuls) To kifs the fhore and die. T HE charms of bright beauty fo powerful are, For that we make peace, and for that we make war. Then tell me no more of religion and laws, Your cant of injustice, the good and bad caufe; To be great, wife, and wealthy I never wou'd chuse, W THIRSIS. DAPHNIS. HY did I faith and truth prefer, And vainly think that wit wou'd move? "Tis only gold can win the fair, Gold buys for ev'ry one her love. I love her heav'nly form, but hate her fordid mind. Happy Daphnis, fince you know The price that will your fair one gain, To yourself your ills you owe, If you idly still complain; If Cloe's vices the kind balm impart, That cures the easy wounds her eyes make in your heart. But there are no hopes for me, To affwage my raging smart, To gain the bright Hermione There is no price, there is no art; Honours and heaven are bought by gold and pray'r, To |