SONG XI. 1744.

P

ERHAPS it is not love, faid I,

That melts my foul when FLAVIA's nigh; Where wit and fenfe like her's agree, One may be pleas'd, and yet be free.

The beauties of her polifh'd mind,
It needs no lover's eye to find;
The hermit freezing in his cell,
Might with the gentle FLAVIA well.

It is not love-averfe to bear
The fervile chain that lovers wear;
Let, let me all my fears remove,
My doubts difpel-it is not love-

Oh! when did wit fo brightly fhine
In any form lefs fair than thine?
It is it is love's fubtle fire,

And under friendship lurks defire.

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Ο

SONG XII. 1744.

'ER defert plains, and rufhy meers,
And wither'd heaths I rove;

Where tree, nor fpire, nor cot appears,
I pass to meet my love.

But tho' my path were damask'd o'er
With beauties e'er fo fine;

My bufy thoughts would fly before,
To fix alone on thine.

No fir-crown'd hills cou'd give delight,
No palace please mine eye:

No pyramid's aerial height,

Where mouldering monarchs lie.

Unmov'd, should Eastern kings advance;

Could I the pageant fee:

Splendour might catch one scornful glance,
Not steal one thought from thee.

SONG XIII. The SCHOLAR'S RELAPSE.

B
Where whisper'd the beech, and where murmur'd
I vow'd to the mufes my time and my care, [the rill;
Since neither cou'd win me the smiles of my fair.

Y the fide of a grove, at the foot of a hill,

Free I rang'd like the birds, like the birds free I fung, And DELIA's lov'd name fcarce efcap'd from my tongue: But if once a fmooth accent delighted my ear,

I shou'd wish, unawares, that my DELIA might hear.

With faireft ideas my bofom I ftor'd,
Allufive.to none but the nymph I ador❜d!
And the more I with ftudy my fancy refin'd,
The deeper impreffion she made on my mind.

So long as of nature the charms I pursue,
I still must my DELIA's dear image renew :
The graces have yielded with DELIA to rove,
And the mufes are all in alliance with love.

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SONG XIV. The ROSE-BUD.

EE, DAPHNE, fee, FLORELIO cry'd,

SEE

And learn the fad effects of pride; Yon fhelter'd rofe, how fafe conceal'd! How quickly blasted, when reveal'd!

The fun with warm attractive rays
Tempts it to wanton in the blaze:
A gale fucceeds from Eastern skies,
And all its blushing radiance dies,

So you, my fair, of charms divine;
Will quit the plains too fond to fhine
Where fame's tranfporting rays allure,
Tho' here more happy, more fecure.

The breath of fome neglected maid
Shall make you figh you left the shade:
A breath to beauty's bloom unkind,
As, to the rose, an Eastern wind,

The nymph reply'd-You first, my swain,
Confine your fonnets to the plain;

One envious tongue alike difarms,

You, of your wit, me, of my charms.

What is, unknown, the poet's skill?
Or what, unheard, the tuneful thrill?
What, unadmir'd, a charming mien, '
Or what the rofe's blush, unfeen?

SONG XV. WINTER. 1746.

No more, ye T

O more, ye warbling birds, rejoice:

Of all that chear'd the pl

plain,

Echo alone preserves her voice,
And fhe-repeats my pain.

Where'er my lovefick limbs I lay,
To fhun the rushing wind,
Its bufy murmur feems to say,
"She never will be kind !"

The naiads, o'er their frozen urns,
In icy chains repine;

And each in fullen filence mourns
Her freedom loft, like mine!

Soon will the fun's returning rays

The chearless froft controul; When will relenting DELIA chase The winter of my foul?

3

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