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النشر الإلكتروني

Fear no more the lightning flash,
Nor th' all-dreaded thunder ftone;
Fear no flander, cenfure rash,

Thou haft finish'd joy and moan.

SONG.

UNDER the green-wood tree,

Who loves to lie with me,

And tune his merry note

Unto the sweet bird's throat,

Come hither, come hither, come hither,

Here fhall he fee

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

Who doth ambition fhun,

And loves to live i' the fun;

Seeking the food he eats,

And pleased with what he gets,

Come hither, come hither, come hither,

Here fhall he fee

No enemy

But winter and rough weather.

THE FORCE OF LOVE.

BEING your flave, what should I do, but tend
Upon the hours and times of your defire,
I have no precious time at all to spend,
Nor fervices to do till you require:
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end hour,
Whilft I, my fovereign! watch the clock for you;
Nor think the bitterness of absence four

When you have bid your fervant once adieu.
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought,
Where you may be, or your affairs fuppofe;
But, like a fad flave, stay and think of nought
Save where you are: how happy you make those!
So true a fool is love, that in your will

Tho' you do

any thing, he thinks no ill.

WHOLESOME COUNSEL.

WHEN as thine eye hath chofe the dame

And ftall'd the deer that thou fhould'st strike, Let reafon rule things worthy blame,

As well as fancy ****

Take counsel of fome wiser head,
Neither too young, nor yet unwed.

And when thou com'ft thy tale to tell,
Smooth not thy tongue with filed talk ;
Left she some fubtle practice smell :
A cripple foon can find a halt.

But plainly fay thou lov'ft her well,
And fet her perfon up to sale.

What though her frowning brows be bent, Her cloudy looks will calm ere night; And then too late she will repent

That thus diffembled her delight;

And twice defire, ere it be day,
That which with scorn she put away.

What though she strive to try her ftrength, And ban and brawl, and say thee nay; Her feeble force will yield at length, When craft hath taught her thus to say: "Had women been as ftrong as men, "In faith, you had not had it then."

And, to her will frame all thy ways,
Spare not to spend, and chiefly there
Where thy defert may merit praise,
By ringing in thy lady's ear.

The strongest caftle, tow'r, and town,
The golden bullet beats it down.

Serve always with affured truft,

And in thy fuit be humble true; Unless thy lady prove unjust,

Please never thou to choose anew.

When time shall ferve, be thou not flack
To proffer, tho' she put it back.

The wiles and guiles that women work,
Diffembled with an outward fhew,

The tricks and toys that in them lurk,
The cock that treads them fhall not know;
Have you not heard it faid full oft,
A woman's nay doth stand for nought?

But foft; enough, too much (I fear)
Left that my mistress hear my song :
She will not ftick to round me on th' ear,
To teach my tongue to be fo long;
Yet will she blush, here be it said,
To hear her fecrets fo betray'd.

SYMPATHIZING LOVE.

As it fell upon a day

In the merry month of May,

Sitting in a pleasant shade

Which a grove of myrtles made;

Beafts did leap, and birds did fing,
Trees did grow, and plants did fpring;

Every thing did banish moan,
Save the nightingale alone.
She, poor bird, as all forlorn,
Lean'd her breast up-till a thorn ;
And there fung the mournful'ft ditty,
That to hear it was great pity :
Fie, fie, fie, now would she cry;
Tereu, tereu, by and by;

That to hear her fo complain,
Scarce I could from tears refrain ;
For her griefs, fo lively shown,
Made me think upon my own.

Ah! (thought I) thou mourn'ft in vain;
None takes pity on thy pain:

Senfelefs trees, they cannot hear thee, Ruthless bears, they will not cheer thee,

King Pandion he is dead;

All thy friends are lapp'd in lead;
All thy fellow-birds do fing,
Careless of thy forrowing;

Whilft as fickle fortune fmiled,
Thou and I were both beguiled;
Every one that flatters thee,
Is no friend to misery.

Words are easy, like the wind,

Faithful friends are hard to find.
Every man will be thy friend

Whilft thou haft wherewith to spend :
But, if ftore of crowns be fcant,
No man will fupply thy want,

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