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Their envy made the shepherd find
Those eyes which love could only blind;

So fet the lover free:

No more he haunts the grove or stream,
Or with a true-love knot and name
Engraves a wounded tree.

Ah Cælia! fly Sabina cry'd,

Tho' neither love, we're both deny'd ;

Now to support the fex's pride,

Let either fix the dart.

C

Poor girl, fays Cælia, fay no more;

For fhou'd the fwain but one adore,

That fpite which broke his chains before,

Wou'd break the other's heart.

MY

SONG.

Y days have been fo wond'rous free,
The little birds that fly.

With careless ease from tree to tree.

Were but as blefs'd as I.

Afk

Afk gliding waters, if a tear,

Of mine increas'd their ftream?

Or ask the flying gales, if e'er

I lent one figh to them?

But now my former days retire,
And I'm by beauty caught,

The tender chains of fweet defire

Are fix'd upon my thought.

Ye nightingales, ye twisting pines !
Ye fwains that haunt the grove!

Ye gentle echoes, breezy winds!

Ye close retreats of love!

With all of nature, all of art.

Affift the dear defign;

O teach a young, unpractis'd heart,

To make my Nancy mine.

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The very thought of change I hate,

As much as of despair;

Nor ever covet to be great,

Unless it be for her.

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W

ANACREONTIC.

HEN fpring came on with fresh delight,
To cheer the foul, and charm the fight,

While eafy breezes, softer rain,
And warmer funs falute the plain;
'Twas then, in yonder piny grove,

That Nature went to meet with Love.

Green was her robe, and green her wreath,

Where-e'er the trod, 'twas green

beneath.

Where

Where-e'er fhe turn'd, the pulses beat

With new recruits of genial heat;

And in her train the birds appear,

To match for all the coming year.
Rais'd on a bank where daizies grew,

And vi'lets intermix'd a blue,

She finds the boy she went to find;
A thousand pleasures wait behind,
Aside, a thousand arrows lye,

But all unfeather'd wait to fly.

When they met, the Dame and Boy,

Dancing Graces, idle Joy,

Wanton Smiles, and airy Play,

Conspir'd to make the fcene be gay;
Love pair'd the birds through all the grove,
And Nature bid them fing to Love,
Sitting, hopping, Autt'ring, fing,
And pay their tribute from the wing,
To fledge the fhafts that idly lye,
And yet unfeather'd wait to fly.

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'Tis thus, when spring renews the blood,
They meet in ev'ry trembling wood,
And thrice they make the plumes agree,
And ev'ry dart they mount with three,
And ev'ry dart can boast a kind,

Which fuits each proper turn of mind.
From the tow'ring eagle's plume
The gen'rous hearts accept their doom:
Shot by the peacock's painted eye
The vain and airy lovers dye :

For careful dames and frugal men,

The fhafts are fpeckled by the hen.
The pyes and parrots deck the darts,
When prattling wins the panting hearts;
When from the voice the paffions spring,
The warbling finch affords a wing:
Together, by the sparrow ftung,
Down fall the wanton and the young:
And fledg'd by geese the weapons fly,
When others love they know not why.

All

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