For in a stream fo wonderous clear,
When angry CUPID fearches round,
Will not the radiant points appear ?

Will not the furtive spoils be found?

Too foon they were; and every dart,
Dipt in the mufe's myftic fpring,
Acquir'd new force to wound the heart;
And taught at once to love and fing.

Then farewel ye Pierian quire;

For who will now your altars throng? From love we learn to fwell the lyre; And echo asks no sweeter song.

ODE.

O D E.

Written 1739.

Urit fpes animi credula mutui.

HOR.

WAS not by beauty's aid alone,

TW

That love ufurp'd his airy throne,

His boasted pow'r display'd:

'Tis kindness that fecures his aim,

'Tis hope that feeds the kindling flame, Which beauty first convey'd.

In CLARA's eyes, the lightnings view;
Her lips with all the rose's hue

Have all its fweets combin'd;

Yet vain the blush, and faint the fire, 'Till lips at once, and eyes confpire To prove the charmer kind

Tho' wit might gild the tempting snare,
With fofteft accent, fweetest air,

By envy's felf admir'd;

If LESBIA'S wit betray'd her fcorn,
In vain might every grace adorn
What every mufe infpir'd.

VOL. I.

L

Thus

Thus airy STREPHON tun'd his lyre-
He fcorn'd the pangs of wild defire,
Which love-fick fwains endure:

Refolv'd to brave the keeneft dart;
Since frowns could never wound his heart,
And fmiles--muft ever cure.

But ah! how false these maxims prove,
How frail fecurity from love,

Experience hourly fhows!

Love can imagin'd fimiles fupply,
On every charming lip and eye
Eternal sweets bestows.

In vain we truft the fair-one's eyes;
In vain the fage explores the fkies,
To learn from stars his fate :
'Till led by fancy wide aftray,
He finds no planet mark his way;
Convinc'd and wife-too late.

As partial to their words we prove;
Then boldly join the lifts of love,
With towering hopes supply'd:
So heroes, taught by doubtful shrines,
Mistook their deity's designs ;

Then took the field--and dy'd.

The

The DYING KID.

Optima quæque dies miferis mortalibus ævi
Prima fugit

A

Tear bedews my DELIA'S eye,

VIRG.

To think yon playful kid must die; From crystal spring, and flowery mead, Muft, in his prime of life, recede!

Erewhile, in fportive circles round

She faw him wheel, and frisk, and bound;
From rock to rock purfue his way,

And, on the fearful margin, play.

Pleas'd on his various freaks to dwell,
She faw him climb my ruftic cell;
Thence eye my lawns with verdure bright,
And seem all ravish'd at the fight.

She tells, with what delight he ftood,
To trace his features in the flood:
Then skip'd aloof with quaint amaze;
And then drew near again to gaze.

She tells me how with eager fpeed
He flew, to hear my vocal reed;
And how, with critic face profound,
And stedfaft ear, devour'd the found.

His every frolic, light as air,
Deferves the gentle DELIA's care;
And tears bedew her tender eye,
To think the playful kid must die.——

But knows my DELIA, timely wife,
How foon this blamelefs æra flies?

While violence and craft fucceed;

Unfair defign, and ruthlefs deed!

Soon would the vine his wounds deplore,
And yield her purple gifts no more;
Ah foon, eras'd from every grove

Were DELIA's name, and STREPHON'S love.

No more thofe bow'rs might STREPHON fee,
Where first he fondly gaz'd on thee;
No more those beds of flow'rets find,
Which for thy charming brows he twin'd.

Each wayward paffion foon would tear
His bofom, now fo void of care;
And, when they left his ebbing vein,
What, but infipid age, remain?

Then mourn not the decrees of fate,
That
gave his life fo fhort a date
And I will join thy tendereft fighs,
To think that youth fo fwiftly flies!

SONGS,