While ease and rapture spreads itself around, And distant hills roll back the charming sound.

PHILLIS.

Not this will lure me, for I'd have you know,
This night to feast with Corydon I go:

To night his reapers bring the gather'd grain
Home to his barns, and leave the naked plain:
Then beef and coleworts, beans and bacon too,
And the plum-pudding of delicious hue,
Sweet-spiced cake, and apple-pies good store,
Deck the brown board, and who can wish for more?
His flute and tabor too Amyntor brings,
And while he plays soft Amaryllis sings.
Then strive no more to win a simple maid,
From her lov'd cottage, and her silent shade;
Let Phillis ne'er, ah! never let her rove
From her first virtue, and her humble grove.
Go, seek some nymph that equals your degree,
And leave content and Corydon for me.

CATHARINE COCKBURN,

Born 1679, died 1749,

Was the daughter of a Scotch gentleman, Captain David Trotter. She wrote philosophical and theological treatises, plays, poems, &c.

Song-the Vain Advice.

Aн, gaze not on those eyes! forbear
That soft, enchanting voice to hear:
Not looks of basilisks give surer death,
Nor Syrens sing with more destructive breath.

Fly, if thy freedom thou'dst maintain ;
Alas! I feel, th' advice is vain!

A heart, whose safety but in flight does lie,
Is too far lost to have the power to fly.

The Caution.

SOFT kisses may be innocent;

But ah! too easy maid, beware ; Tho' that is all thy kindness meant, "Tis love's delusive, fatal snare.

No virgin e'er at first design'd

Thro' all the maze of love to stray; But each new path allures her mind, Till wandering on, she lose her way.

'Tis easy ere set out to stay;

But who the useful art can teach, When sliding down a steepy way,

To stop, before the end we reach?

Keep ever something in thy power, Beyond what would thy honour stain:

He will not dare to aim at more,

Who for small favours sighs in vain.

LETITIA PILKINGTON,

Born 1712, died 1750,

Was the daughter of Dr. Van Lewen of Dublin, and wife of the Rev. Mr. Pilkington. The life of this talented but frail fair one, written by herself, is an amusing work.

Ode, in Imitation of HORACE.

I ENVY not the proud their wealth,
Their equipage and state;
Give me but innocence and health,
I ask not to be great.

I in this sweet retirement find
A joy unknown to kings,
For sceptres to a virtuous mind
Seem vain and empty things.

Great Cincinnatus at his plough
With brighter lustre shone,
Than guilty Cæsar e'er could shew,
Though seated on a throne.

Tumultuous days, and restless nights,
Ambition ever knows,

A stranger to the calm delights
Of study and repose.

Then free from envy, care, and strife,
Keep me, ye powers divine!
And pleas'd, when ye demand my life,
May I that life resign!

SONG.

LYING is an occupation

Us'd by all who mean to rise; Politicians owe their station

But to well-concerted lies.

These to lovers give assistance
To ensnare the fair one's heart;
And the virgin's best resistance
Yields to this commanding art.

Study this superior science,

Would you rise in church or state;

Bid to truth a bold defiance,

"Tis the practice of the great.