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What do I hear? ah! how could heav'n allow
Invidious death so soon to give the blow?
How could the gods pass this severest doom,
To crush the bloss’ming flower just in its vernal bloom?

Ah! Sylvia, don't you know, the powers above
Saw she was fit for that bright state of love ?
The bounteous deities were not fevere,
For she had finish'd her great errand here.
You've heard, dear Sylvia, that this mortal state
Is wisely chosen and ordain’d by fate,
That we therein, by purest virtues, may,
Prepare our fouls for those bleft seats of day.
Yes, we're confin'd to these dark shades of woc,
That finding no true bliss, nor joys below,
Urania's beauties may invest our heart,
Triumph o'er all its powers in every part :
And when thus disciplin’d in love divine,
'Midst yonder sparkling lights we're made to shine.
In this, Lucinda all the plain furpast,
Dispatch'd the great design of life so fast,
That the fair nymph had scarce to live begun,
When the great bus’ness of her life was done.
The Gods, who would not now prolong her stay,
Uncag'd her soul from this wretch'd ball of clay
Then, fluttering, she broke loose and wing'd away.

'Midst all the starry gems which gild the night,
Metkinks I now behold a sparkling light,
Whose virgin-bloom and modeft blush declare,
That chalte Lucinda is transplanted there.

. Cloris.
Yes, in yon constellation bright, tho’ finall,
Which mortals by the name of Virgo call,
You see that new addition to its train ;
'Tis there our darling fellow mate doth reign.
Lucinda, ah ! Lucinda, we don't grieve
That thou art dead, but that we can survive
When thou art gone, that we should stay behind,
And not be stript with thee to naked mind.

The The FAREWELL. By the same,

AH! must we part! ah! must we bid adieu !

O then farewel, a long farewel to you,
I'll never see thee more, I'll take one leave,
This is the last rencounter e'er we'll have.

Perhaps we shan't each other see,
While thus enclos'd in balls of clay;
But when our lab’ring souls get free,
We'll meet in those bright seats of day.

Ah, no! even there we can't each other see,
Your tow'ring soul will mine so far out-flee.
With nimble strokes you'll soar and fail the skies,
That are too bright, too dazzling for mine eyes.

But granting that it should be so,
I cou'd not there for ever stay :
We're finite still, and such, you know,
Cannot abide a constant day.

Yes, sure sometimes we must our faces vail,
Stoop and confess that we're too weak, too frail
To bear those splendid and full beaming rays,
With constant open and unclosed eyes.

Well then, while the celestial train
In low prostrations thus do fall,
Tho' ne'er so high I'd turn again,
And sink and bow beneath them all.
Here we shall meet, and here I'll cry,
What think you, dear, what think you now,
Of all the pain and milery,
The penance that we had below?

Farewel, O then farewel, dear saint, adieu ;
And when you're gone, mind what you've promis'd now.

A Pastoral PO E M. By the same.

Wherein, under the name of Strephon, Cor the converted

foul) disgusted of his old amours with Colinelia, ror the world) and going in quest of the nobler beauty Urania, for the supreme good) is represented the triumph of the virtuous poul over its passions, the love of the world, and all inferior things. .

- Pathetas, or the Passions. T H Y, Strephon, why departed from the plains ?

W Why thus estrang’d to all thy neighb'ring fwains?
Why in such midnight fhades, such llent groves, s,
While they enjoy the fair Cofmelia's loves?
Where are those sprigh:ly looks, that am'rous glance,
Whereby thou charm’d the nymph when in the dance ?
Where are the laurels she weav'd for thy head,
When ʼmidst thy rivals thou the triumph led ?
Where are those spreading looks that us'd to fly,
And waving o'er thy snowy shoulders lay?
Where are those sweet perfumes, that balmy scent,
Which from thy head in streaming odours went ?
What has untun'd the pipe that us’d to move,
And in such blushing gentle whispers (trove,
To warble out the fair Cofmelia's love!
In short, fince all that's amn'rous, brisk and gay,
Pleasant and charming, since that's all away;
Tell me from whence this mighty change doth flow?
What strange reverse of thoughts has made thee fo?

Dissolv'd in tears, all in this fable hue,
I mourn that e'er Cofmelia's loves I knew.

Ah! could she prove unkind, could she disdain
Strephon's embraces, then might you complain;
But still she loves, her passion's still the same,
And ev’n your absence does augment the flame.

Silence, fond youth, for now I've learn’d to know,
Her smiles were noxious, and her joys my woe;


Each look was fatal, and each kiss a dart,
That pierc'd my soul, and stung me to the heart.

I've just now left the fields, and heard the noise
Of fair Gofmelia, and the mournful voice
Of all the wand'ring nymphs that rang’d the plains,..
Pals'd and repals’d thro' all the joyful swains,
Still groaning forth this note, Ah! is he gone !
Is Strephon lost! Is Strephon thus undone !
Ah! can he now disdain Cofmelia's charms,
And live so long a stranger to her arms ?

Thus wand'ring thro' the plains they vent their moans,
While all the echoing woods refound their groans.
And can you yet believe that she's your foe,
Whose am'rous plaints such height of passion show!

Yes, still she loves, and still the more she loves,
Still she more noxious and more hurtful proves :
Ah! happy 1, had she been still unkind,
Had she with scorn, my am'rous suits declin'd ;
Had she, with low’ring frowns veil'd all her face,
Dildain'd my sighs, and shun'd my fond embrace.
For now I see that all her gaudy charms
Were but enchanted shows, and real harms.
Oh! cruel nymph, thy loves had I ne'er known,
I had not been thụs fetter'd and ty'd down;
With nimble strokes, I could have wing'd above,
And known, and seen that beauty whom I love.
But now, involv'd in mists, I wand’ring stray,
And fear, at every step, to lose my way.
Urania, Oh Urania! hear my groans,
Compassionate my griefs, regard my moans.
Long have I stray'd in this dark maze of night,
And chas'd a phantom that deceiv'd my fight.
When first I rov'd, thou call'dft and bad'It me stay,
But I regardless still spur'd on my way.
Thou oft renew’dst the check, and stopt my course;
Iinpatient I still spurn’d, and turn’d the worse.
Long thou pursu’dst, still I thy suits declin’d,
And still the more thou lov’dít, the more I was unkind,
Thus wretch'd and treach'rous I did faithless prove,
To all the filent whispers of thy love.


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But now my heart relents, I die with pain,
To think that e'er I could thy love disdain:
Enrag'd against my felf, I wand'ring go
Thro' all the filent groves, and vent my woe;
Calling to each small shrub, and lofty tree,
Ah! will Urania hear and pity me!

What mournful notes are these that touch my ear,
Ist Strephon, or some phantom that I hear?
Ah! stop, dear youth, and do not scorn my crics ;
Once more regard the rhet'ric of mine eyes.
The chrystal drops that from these fountains flow,
And down my cheeks in rosy channels go,
Proclaim my love, my height of passion show.

I scorn your tears, in vain you court my stay :
A nobler object calls my soul away.

Are these the just returns for all my care,
For all the am'rous sweets I did prepare ;
When thou lay clasp’d, enclosed in iny arms,
And thy fond soul was raptur'd with my charms?
Remind how oft on yonder distant plains,
When with disdainful frowns I pals’d the swains,
With what soft melting smiles I glanc'd on thee,
And thou return'd the look with eckasie.
Remind these rofy walks, these flow'ry shades,
Where we so oft repos'd our ain'rous heads.
Remind these gentle streams whereon we lay,
And bath'd and sported out the toils of day:
While all the bloss’ming train perfum'd the grove,
And in sweet balmy whispers bade us love.
Remind how oft, on yonder filent groves,
I callid on Strephon to enjoy my loves;
With what fierce leaps you sprung into the place,
And thy rapt soul flew out in each embrace.
Remind all this, and then, dear Strephon, tell
Why you'd torinent the nymph you lov'd so well ?

While with such fondness I pursu'd thy love,
A nobler flame could not my passions move;

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