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HEN bright ROXANA treads the green, In all the pride of dress and mien; Averse to freedom, love, and play, The dazzling rival of the day: None other beauty ftrikes mine eye, The lilies droop, the roses die.

But when, disclaiming art, the fair
Affumes a foft engaging air;
Mild as the opening morn of May,
Familiar, friendly, free and gay:
The scene improves, where'er fhe goes,
More sweetly smile the pink and rofe.

O lovely maid! propitious hear,
Nor deem thy fhepherd infincere ;
Pity a wild illufive flame,

1

That varies objects still the fame :
And let their very changes prove
The never-vary'd force of love.

SONG

SONG IX. 1743. VALENTINE'S DAY.

"T

IS faid that under diftant skies,
Nor you the fact deny;

What first attracts an Indian's eyes
Becomes his deity.

Perhaps a lily, or a rofe,

That shares the morning's ray,
May to the waking fwain difclofe
The regent of the day.

Perhaps a plant in yonder grove,
Enrich'd with fragrant pow'r,
May tempt his vagrant eyes to rove,
Where blooms the fov'reign flow'r.

Perch'd on the cedar's topmost bough,
And gay with gilded wings,
Perchance, the patron of his vow,
Some artless linnet fings.

The fwain furveys her pleas'd, afraid,

Then low to earth he bends; And owns upon her friendly aid,

His health, his life depends.

Vain

Vain futile idols, bird or flow'r,
To tempt a votary's pray'r !--
How would his humble homage tow'r
Should he behold my Fair!

Yes-might the pagan's waking eyes,
O'er FLAVIA's beauty range,

He there would fix his lafting choice,
Nor dare, nor wish to change.

SONG

T

SONG X. 1743.

HE fatal hours are wonderous near,

That, from these fountains, bear my

A little space is giv'n; in vain;
She robs my fight, and fhuns the plain.

A little space, for me to prove
My boundless flame, my endless love;
And like the train of vulgar hours,
Invidious time that space devours.

Near yonder beech is DELIA's way, gaze the livelong day;

On that I

No eaftern monarch's dazzling pride
Should draw my longing eyes afide.

The chief, that knows of fuccours nigh,
And fees his mangled legions die,
Cafts not a more impatient glance,

To fee the loitering aids advance.

Not more, the school-boy that expires
Far from his native home, requires
To fee fome friend's familiar face,
Or meet a parent's last embrace——

dear;

She

She comes-but ah! what crouds of beaux
In radiant bands my fair enclose;

Oh! better hadft thou fhun'd the green,
Oh DELIA! better far unfeen.

Methinks, by all my

tender fears,

By all my fighs, by all my tears,

I might from torture now be free

'Tis more than death to part from thee!

VOL. I.

M

SONG

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