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To walk and rest, to live and die,
And yet not know whence, how, or why;
To have our hopes with fears still check's,
To credit doubts, and truth suspect,
This, this is what we may
A lover's absence say.

LOVE BUT ONE.

See these two little brooks that slowly creep

In snaky windings through the plains !
I knew them once one river, swift and deep,

Blessing and blest by poets' strains.

But, since it broke itself, and double glides,

The naked banks no dress have worn; And yon dry barren mountain now derides

These valleys, which lost glories mourn.

O Chloris, think how this presents thy love!

Which when it ran but in one stream, We happy shepherds thence did thrive, and 'prove,

And thou wast mine and all men's theme.

But since 't hath been imparted to one more,

And in two streams doth weakly creep, Our common muse is thence grown low and poor,

And mine as lean as these my sheep.

But think withal what honour thou hast lost,

Which we did to thy full stream pay! Whilst now that swain that swears he loves thee most

Slakes but his thirst and goes away!

FALSEHOOD.

(From 6 stanzas.]

STILL do the stars impart their light
To those that travel in the night:
Still time runs on, nor doth the hand
Or shadow on the dial stand :
The streams still glide and constant are:

Only thy mind
'Untrue I find,
Which carelessly

Neglects to be
Like stream or shadow, hand or star.

LESBIA ON HER SPARROW.

TELL me not of joy! there's none
Now my little sparrow's gone;

He, just as you,

Would sigh and woo,
He would chirp and flatter me;

He would hang the wing a while,

Till at length he saw me smile, Lord! how sullen he would be !

He would catch a crumb, and then
Sporting let it go again ;

He from my lip

Would moisture sip,
He would from my trencher feed;

Then would hop, and then would run,

And cry Philip when he'd done; Oh! whose heart can choose but bleed ?

Oh! how eager would he fight,
And ne'er hurt tho' he did bite; .

No morn did pass,
But on my glass

He would sit, and mark, and do

What I did ; now ruffle all

His feathers o'er, now let them fall, And then straightway sleek them too.

Whence will Cupid get his darts
Feather'd

now,

to pierce our hearts ?
A wound he may,

Not love, convey,
Now this faithful bird is gone.

Oh ! let mournful turtles join

With loving redbreasts, and combine To sing dirges o'er his stone.

SONG.

(From“ the Ordinary."]

Whilst early light springs from the skies,
A fairer from your bride doth rise;
A brighter day doth thence appear,
And make a second morning there.

Her blush doth shed
All o'er the bed

Clear shame-fac'd beams,

That spread in streams,
And purple round the modest air,

I will not tell what shrieks and cries,
What angry pishes, and what fies,
What pretty oaths, then newly born,
The listening taper heard there sworn :

Whilst froward she,
Most peevishly,
Did yielding fight

To keep o'er night
What she'd have proffer'd you ere morn.

Fair, we know maids do refuse
To grant what they do come to lose :
Intend a conquest you that wed !
They would be chastely ravished:

Not any kiss
From Mrs. Pris,
If that

you

do Persuade and woo. Know, pleasure's by extorting fed.

0. may her arms wax black and blue, Only by hard encircling you ; VOL. III,

P

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