SONG IV. The SKY-LARK.

G

O, tuneful bird, that glad'st the skies, TO DAPHNE'S window speed thy way; And there on quiv'ring pinions rise,

And there thy vocal art display.

And if fhe deign thy notes to hear,
And if the praise thy matin fong,
Tell her the founds that foothe her ear,
TO DAMON's native plains belong.

Tell her, in livelier plumes array'd,
The bird from Indian groves may shine;
But ask the lovely partial maid,

What are his notes compar❜d to thine?

Then bid her treat yon witlefs beau,
And all his flaunting race with fcorn;
And lend an ear to DAMON's woe,

Who fings her praife, and fings forlorn,

SONG

SONG V.

Ab! ego non aliter triftes evincere morbos
Optarem, quam te fic quoque velle putem.

N every tree, in every plain,

I trace the jovial spring in vain!
A fickly languor veils mine eyes,
And fast my waning vigor flies,

Nor flow'ry plain, nor budding tree,
That smile on others, fmile on me;
Mine eyes from death fhall court repose,
Nor shed a tear before they close.

What bliss to me can seasons bring?
Or, what the needlefs pride of spring?
The cypress bough, that suits the bier,
Retains its verdure all the year.

'Tis true, my vine so fresh and fair,
Might claim awhile my wonted care;
My rural store fome pleasure yield;
So white a flock, fo
8

green a field!

My

Might well expect one parting figh;
Might well demand one tender tear;
For when was DAMON unfincere?

But ere I ask once more to view
Yon setting fun his race renew,

Inform me, fwains; my friends, declare,
Will pitying DELIA join the prayer?

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SONG VI. The Attribute of VENUS.

ES; FULVIA is like VENUS fair

YE

;

Has all her bloom, and fhape, and air:

But ftill, to perfect every grace,

She wants-the fmile upon her face.

The crown majestic Juno wore ;
And CYNTHIA's brow the crescent bore,
An helmet mark'd MINERVA's mien,
But fmiles diftinguish'd beauty's queen.

Her train was form'd of fmiles and loves,
Her chariot drawn by gentleft doves;
And from her zone, the nymph may find,
'Tis beauty's province to be kind.

Then smile, my fair; and all whose aim
Afpires to paint the Cyprian dame,
Or bid her breathe in living stone,
Shall take their forms from you alone.

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SONG VII. 1744.

HE lovely DELIA fmiles again!

TH

That killing frown has left her brow:

Can fhe forgive my jealous pain,

And give me back my angry vow?

Love is an April's doubtful day:
Awhile we fee the tempeft low'r;
Anon the radiant heav'n furvey,

And quite forget the flitting fhow'r.

The flow'rs, that hung their languid head,
Are burnish'd by the tranfient rains;
The vines their wonted tendrils fpread,
And double verdure gilds the plains.

The sprightly birds, that droop'd no less
Beneath the pow'r of rain and wind,

In every raptur'd note, express

The joy I feel when thou art kind,

SONG