By all our guarded fighs and hid defires,

Oh, may our guiltless love be ftill the fame!

1 urn, and glory in the pleafing fires,

If Delia's bofom fhare the mutual flame.

Thou, happy genius of her natal hour,

Accept her incenfe, if her thoughts be kind; But let her court in vain thy angry power,

If all our vows are blotted from her mind:

And thou, O Venus, hear my righteous pray❜r,
Or bind the fhepherdefs or loose the swain!
Yet rather guard them both with equal care,
And let them die together in thy chain!

What I demand perhaps her heart defires,
But virgin tears her nicer tongue restrain;
The fecret thought, which blufhing love infpires,
The confcious eye can full as well explain.

THE man, who fharpen'd first the warlike steel,
How fell and deadly was his iron heart!

He gave the wound encount' ring nations feel,
And death grew stronger by his fatal art.

Yet not from fteel debate and battle rofe,

'Tis gold o'erturns the even scale of life; Nature is free to all, and none were foes,

Till partial Luxury began the ftrife.

Let spoil and victory adorn the bold,

While I inglorious neither hope nor fear; Perish the thirst of honour, thirst of gold, Ere for my abfence Delia lofe a tear!

Why

Why fhou'd the lover quit his pleasing home,
In fearch of danger on fome foreign ground;
Far from his weeping fair ungrateful roam,
And risk in ev'ry stroke a double wound?

Ah! better far, beneath the spreading shade,
With chearful friends to drain the fprightly bowl;
To fing the beauties of my darling maid,
And on the fweet idea feast my foul!

Then, full of love, to all her charms retire,
And feld her blufhing to my eager breast;
Till, quite o'ercome with softness, with defire,
Like me she pants, fhe faints, and finks to rest.

No

O fecond love fhall e'er my heart furprize; This folemn league did firft our paffion bind: Thou, only thou, canft please thy lover's eyes,

Thy voice alone can foothe his troubled mind.

Oh, that thy charms were only fair to me,
Displease all others, and fecure my reft;
No need of envy-let me happy be,

I little care that others know me blefs'd,

With thee in gloomy defarts let me dwell,

Where never human footftep mark'd the ground;
Thou, light of life, all darkness canft expel,
And feem a world, with folitude around.

I fay too much-my heedlefs words restore;

My tongue undoes me in this loving hour:

Thou know'ft thy ftrength, and thence infulting more,
Wilt make me feel the weight of all thy pow'r.

Whate'er

Whate'er I feel, thy flave I will remain,

Nor fly the burden I am form'd to bear:
In chains I'll fit me down at Venus' fane ;
She knows my wrongs, and will regard my pray❜r.

L

ET others boaft their heaps of shining gold,
And view their fields with waving plenty crown'd;
Whom neighb'ring foes in conftant terror hold,
And trumpets break their slumbers-never found.

While, calmly poor, I trifle life away;

Enjoy sweet leisure by my chearful fire: No wanton hope my quiet shall betray;

But, cheaply blefs'd, I'll fcorn each vain defire.

With timely care I'll fow my little field,

And plant my orchard with it's mafter's hand; Nor blush to spread the hay, the hook to wield, Or range my sheaves along the funny land.

If late at dusk, while carelessly I roam,

I meet a ftrolling kid, or bleating lamb; Under my arm I'll bring the wand'rer home, And not a little chide it's thoughtless dam.

What joy to hear the tempeft howl in vain,
And clasp a fearful mistress to my breast!
Or, lull'd to flumber by the beating rain,
Secure and happy, fink at laft to reft!

Or if the fun in flaming Leo ride,

By fhady rivers indolently stray;

And with my Delia, walking fide by fide,
Hear how they murmur as they glide away!

What joy to wind along the cool retreat,
To stop and gaze on Delia as I go!
To mingle fweet difcourfe with kiffes fweet,
And teach my lovely scholar all I know!

Thus pleas'd at heart, and not with Fancy's dream,
In filent happiness I reft unknown;
Content with what I am, not what I feem,
I live for Delia and myself alone.

Ah, foolish man! who thus of her poffefs'd,
Could float and wander with ambition's wind;
And, if his outward trappings spoke him bless'd,
Not heed the fickness of his conscious mind.

With her I fcorn the idle breath of praise,
Nor truft to happiness that's not our own:
The smile of fortune might fufpicion raise,
But here I know that I am lov'd alone.

Stanhope, in wifdom as in wit divine,

May rife and plead Britannia's glorious caufe;
With steady rein his eager wit confine,
While manly sense the deep attention draws!

Let Stanhope speak his lift'ning country's wrong,
My humble voice shall please one partial maid;
For her alone I pen my tender fong,

Securely fitting in his friendly shade.

Stanhope fhall come, and grace his rural friend!
Delia fhall wonder at her noble guest;
With blushing awe the riper fruit commend,
And for her husband's patron cull the best.

-Her's

Her's be the care of all my little train,
While I with tender indolence am blefs'd,
The fav'rite fubject of her gentle reign,
By love alone diftinguish'd from the reft.

For her I'll yoke my oxen to the plow,
In gloomy forests tend my lonely flock;
For her, a goat-herd, climb the mountain's brow,
And sleep extended on the naked rock!

Ah! what avails to prefs the stately bed,

And far from her midft tafteless grandeur weep; By marble fountains lay the penfive head,

And, while they murmur, ftrive in vain to sleep!

Delia alone can please, and never tire,
Exceed the paint of thought in true delight;
With her, enjoyment wakens new defire,
And equal rapture glows thro' ev'ry night!

Beauty and worth in her alike contend,

To charm the fancy and to fix the mind:
In her, my wife, my mistress, and my friend,
I taste the joys of sense and reason join'd.

On her I'll gaze when others' loves are o'er,
And dying, prefs her with my clay-cold hand!-

Thou weep'ft already, as I were no more ;
Nor can that gentle breast the thought withstand,

Oh, when I die, my latest moments spare,

Nor let thy grief with sharper torments kill! Wound not thy cheeks, nor hurt that flowing hair; Tho' I am dead, my soul shall love thee still!