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A DIALOGUE fung on the Stage between an elderly Shepherd, and a very young Nymph.

SHEP.

B

RIGHT and blooming as the Spring,
Univerfal love inspiring!

All our fwains thy praises fing,
Ever gazing and admiring.

NY M. Praises in fo high a strain,
And by fuch a fhepherd fung,
Are enough to make me vain,
Yet fo harmless and so young.

SHEP. I should have despair'd among
Rivals that appear fo gayly:

But your eyes have made me young,
By their smiling on me daily.

NYM. Idle boys admire us blindly,

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Are inconftant, wild, and bold;
And your ufing me fo kindly
Is a proof you are not old.

SHEP. With thy pleasing voice and fashion,

With thy humour and thy youth,

Chear my foul, and crown my passion:

Oh! reward my love and truth.

NYM. With thy careful arts to cover

That which fools will count a fault, Trueft friend as well as lover,

Oh! deserve so kind a thought.

EACH A PART FIRST, AND THEN BOTH TOGETHER.

SHEP.
NY M.

Happy we shall lie poffeffing,
Folded in each other's arms,
Love and nature's chiefest bleffing
In the still increasing charms...

So the dearest joys of loving,

Which scarce Heav'n can go beyond,
Well be ev'ry day improving,

You more fair, and I more fond.
I more fair, and

you more

fond.

On one who died discovering her Kindness.

OME vex their fouls with jealous pain,
While others figh for cold difdain!

Love's various flaves we daily fee;

Yet happy all, compar'd with me.

Of all mankind, I lov❜d the best
A nymph fo far above the rest,
That we outshin'd the bleft above,
In beauty fhe, and I in love.

And therefore they who could not bear
To be outdone by mortals here,
Among themselves have plac'd her now,
And left me wretched here below.

All other fate I could have born,
And ev'n endur'd her very scorn;
But oh! thus all at once to find
That dread account! both dead and kind!
What heart can hold? If yet I live,

'Tis but to fhew how much I grieve,

On LUCINDA'S Death.

COME

YOME all ye doleful, dismal cares,
That ever haunted guilty mind!
The pangs of love when it despairs,
And all those stings the jealous find:
Alas! heart-breaking tho' ye be,
Yet welcome, welcome all to me!

Who now have loft

-but oh! how much?

No language, nothing can express,
Except my grief; for fhe was fuch,

That praifes would but make her lefs.
Yet who can ever dare to raise
His voice on her, unless to praise?
Free from her fex's smallest faults,
And fair as womankind can be;
Tender and warm as lover's thoughts,
Yet cold to all the world but me.
Of all this nothing now remains,
But only fighs and endless pains!

To a Lady retiring into a Monastery.

WHAT breaft can

HAT breaft but yours can hold the double fire
Of fierce devotion, and of fond defire?

Love would shine forth, were not your zeal fo bright,
Whofe glaring flames eclipfe his gentler light:
Lefs feems the faith that mountains can remove,
Than this which triumphs over youth and love.
But shall some threat'ning priest divide us two?
What worse than that could all his curfes do?
Thus with a fright some have resign'd their breath,
And poorly dy'd only for fear of death.

Heav'n fees our passions with indulgence still,
And they who love well, can do nothing ill.
While to us nothing but ourselves is dear,
Should the world frown, yet what have we to fear?
Fame, wealth, and pow'r, thofe high-priz'd gifts of fate,
The low concerns of a less happy state,

Are far beneath us: fortune's felf may take
Her aim at us, yet no impression make;
Let worldlings ask her help, or fear her harms;
We can lie fafe, lock'd in each other's arms,
Like the bleft faints, eternal raptures know;
And flight those storms that vainly rest below.
Yet this, all this you are refolv'd to quit;
I fee my ruin, and I must submit:

But think, O think, before you prove unkind,
How loft a wretch you leave forlorn behind.
Malignant envy, mix'd with hate and fear,
Revenge for wrongs too burdensome to bear,

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