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On Apprehension of losing what he had newly

gained.

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URE I of all men am the first

That ever was by kindness curit,
Who must my only bliss bemoan,
And am by happiness undone.

Had I at distance only seen
That lovely face, I might have been
With the delightful object pleas’d,
But not with all this passion seiz’d.

When afterwards fo near I came
As to be fcorch'd in beauty's flame;
To so much foftness, so much sente,
Reason itself made no defence.

What pleasing thoughts possess’d my mind When little favours shew'd

you

kind!
And though, when coldness oft' prevailid,
My heart would sink, and spirits fail'd,
Yet willingly the yoke I bore,
And all your chains as bracelets wore :
At your lov'd feet all day wonld lie,
Defiring, without knowing why ;
For, not yet bleft within your arms,
Who could have thought of half your charms ?

Charms

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Charms of such a wondrous kind,
Words we cannot, must not find,
A body worthy of your

mind, Fancy could ne'er fo high reflect, Nor love itself such joys expect.

After such embraces past,
Whofe memory will ever last,
Love is still reflecting back ;
All my soul is on a rack :
To be in hell 's sufficient curse,
But to fall from heaven is worse.
I liv'd in grief ere this I knew,
But then I dwelt in darkness too.
Of gains, alas ! I could not boast ;
But little thought how much I loft.

Now heart-devouring eagerness,
And sharp impatience to possess ;
Now restless cares, consuming fires,
Anxious thoughts, and fierce desires,
Tear my heart to that degree,
For ever fix'd on only thee :
Then all my comfort is, I shall
Live in thy arms, or not at all.

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CO
VOME, let us now resolve at last

To live and love in quiet ;
We'll tie the knot so very fast,

That Time shall ne'er untie it.

The

The truest joys they feldom prove,

Who free from quarrels live;
'Tis the most tender part of love,

Each other to forgive.
When least I seem'd concern'd, I took

No pleasure, nor no reft;
And when I feign d an angry look,

Alas ! I lov'd you best.
Own but the same to me, you 'll find

How bleft will be our fate ;
Oh, to be happy, to be kind,

Sure never is too late.

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FR
'ROM all uneasy passions free,

Revenge, ambition, jealousy,
Contented I had been too blest,
If love and you had let me rest :
Yet that dull life I now despise ;

Safe from your eyes,
I fear'd no griefs, but then I found no joys.
Amidst a thousand kind desires,
Which beauty moves, and love inspires ;

I feel of tender fear,
No heart so soft as mine can bcar :
Yet I'll defy the worst of harms ;

Such are your charms,
Tis worth a life to die within your arms.

Such pangs

TO A COQUET BEAUTY.

FROM

'ROM wars and plagues come no such harms,

As from a nymph so full of charms;
So much fiveetness in her face,
In her motions such a grace,
In her kind inviting eyes
Such a soft enchantment lies;
That we please ourselves too soon,
And are with empty hopes undone.

After all her foftness, we
Are but slaves, while she is free ;
Free, alas ! from all desire,
Except to set the world on fire.

Thou, fair diffembler, doft but thus
Deceive thyself, as well as us.
Like a restless monarch, thou
Wouldst rather force mankind to bow,
And venture round the world to roam,
Than

govern peaceably at home.
But trust me, Celia, trust me, when
Apollo's self inspires my pen,
One hour of love's delight out-weighs
Whole years of universal praise ;
And one adorer, kindly us'd,
Gives truer joys than crowds refus'd.
For what does youth and beauty serve ?
Why more than all your fex deterve :

Why

Why such soft alluring arts
To charm our eyes, and melt our hearts ?
By our loss you nothing gain :
Unless you love, you please in vain.

THERE LA P Š E. LIKE children in a starry night,

When I beheld those eyes before, I gaz'd with wonder and delight,

Insensible of all their power.

I play'd about the flame so long,

At last I felt the scorching fire ;
My hopes were weak, my paflion strong,

And I lay dying with desire.
By all the helps of human art,

I just recover'd so much sense, As to avoid, with heavy heart,

The fair, but fatal, influence. But, fince you shine away despair,

And now my fighs no longer shun, No Persian in his zealous prayer

So much adores the rising sun..

If once again my vows displease,

There never was so loft a lover; In love, that languishing difcase,

A sad relapse we ne'er recover.

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