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SONG XVIII. Imitated from the FRENCH.

ES, these are the scenes where with Iris I ftray'd

YES

But short was her fway for fo lovely a maid!
In the bloom of her youth to a cloyster she run;
In the bloom of her graces, too fair for a nun!
Ill-grounded, no doubt, a devotion must prove
So fatal to beauty, fo killing to love!

Yes, these are the meadows, the fhrubs and the plains;
Once the scene of my pleafures, the scene of my pains;
How many soft moments I spent in this grove!
How fair was my nymph! and how fervent my love!
Be still tho', my heart! thine emotion give o'er;
Remember, the feafon of love is no more.

With her how I ftray'd amid fountains and bow'rs,
Or loiter'd behind and collected the flow'rs!
Then breathlefs with ardor my fair-one purfu'd,
And to think with what kindness my garland fhe view'd!
But be ftill, my fond heart! this emotion give o'er;
Fain wouldst thou forget thou must love her no more.

The

The HALCYON.

WHY o'er the verdant banks of ooze

Does yonder halcyon speed so fast;

'Tis all becaufe fhe would not lofe

Her fav'rite calm that will not last.

The fun with azure paints the skies,
The ftream reflects each flow'ry, spray;

And frugal of her time, the flies
To take her fill of love and play.

See her, when rugged Boreas blows,
Warm in some rocky cell remain ;
To seek for pleasure, well she knows,
Would only then enhance the pain.

Descend, she cries, thou hated fhow'r,
Deform my limpid waves to-day,

For I have chose a fairer hour

To take my fill of love and play.

You too, my SILVIA, fure will own
Life's azure seasons swiftly roll:
And when our youth, or health is flown,

To think of love but fhocks the foul.

Could

Could DAMON but deferve thy charms,
As thou art DAMON's only theme;
He'd fly as quick to DELIA's arms,
As yonder halcyon fkims the stream.

Mr Shenstone wrote

a

Parody on the foregoing Verses, the last Line of which

Was

As yonder kitten skims the cream.

it was amongst his devities and per =

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ODE.

O D E.

O dear my LUCIO is to me,

So well our minds and tempers blend;

That seasons may for ever flee,

And ne'er divide me from

my But let the favour'd boy forbear with love my only fair.

Το

tempt

friend;

O LYCON, born when every mufe,
When every grace benignant fmil'd,
With all a parent's breast could chufe

To bless her lov'd, her only child; 'Tis thine, so richly grac'd to prove More noble cares, than cares of love.

Together we from early youth

Have trod the flowery tracks of time, Together mus'd in fearch of truth,

O'er learned fage, or bard fublime; And well thy cultur'd breast I know, What wonderous treasure it can fhow.

Come then, refume thy charming lyre,
And fing fome patriot's worth fublime,
Whilft I in fields of foft defire,

Confume my fair and fruitlefs prime;
Whose reed aspires but to display
The flame that burns me night and day.

O come!

O come! the dryads of the woods
Shall daily foothe thy ftudious mind,
The blue-ey'd nymphs of yonder floods

Shall meet and court thee to be kind;
And fame fits liftening for thy lays
To fwell her trump with Lucio's praise.

Like me, the plover fondly tries

To lure the sportsman from her nest,
And flutt'ring on with anxious cries,
Too plainly fhews her tortur'd breast :
O let him, conscious of her care,
Pity her pains, and learn to fpare.

A PAS

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