Filld with grief for what is past,

Let us at length be wise;
And to love's true enjoyments haste,

Since we have paid the price.

Love does easy souls despise
Who lose themselves for toys,

for those devise
Who taste his utmost joys.

And escape

Love should like the year be crown'd

With sweet variety;
Hope should in the spring abound,

Kind fears, and jealousy.

In the summer, flowers should rise,

And in the autumn, fruit; . His spring doth else but mock our eyes,

And in a scoff salute.


THANKS, fair Urania, to your scorn,
I now am free, as I was born.
Of all the pain that I endur'd
By your late coldness I am curd.

In losing me, proud nymph, you lose
The humblest slave your beauty knows:
In losing you, I but throw down
A haughty tyrant from her throne.

My ranging love did never find
Such charms of person and of mind;
You've beauty, wit, and all things know,--
But where



love bestow.

I, unawares, my freedom gave,
And to those tyrants grew a slave:
Would you have kept what you had won,
You should have more compassion shewn.

Love is a burthen, which two hearts,
When equally they bear their parts,
With pleasure carry; but no one,
Alas! can bear it long alone.

I'm not of those who court their pain,
And make an idol of disdain ;
My hope in love does ne'er expire,
But it extinguishes desire.

Nor yet of those who, ill receiv'd,
Would have it otherwise believ'd;

And, where their love could not prevail, Take the vain liberty to rail.

Whoe'er would make his victor less,
Must his own weak defence confess;
And, while her power he does defame,
He poorly doubles his own shame.

Even that malice does betray,
And speak concern another way;
And all such scorn in me is but
The smoke of fires ill put out.

He's still in torment, whom the rage
To detraction does

In love, indifference is sure
The only sign of perfect cure.


“ HEARs not my Phillis, how the birds

66 Their feather'd mates salute? They tell their passion in their words ;• Must I alone be mute ?"

Phillis, without frown or smile,
Sat and knotted all the while.

“ The god of love in thy bright eyes

" Does like a tyrant reign; “ But in thy heart a child he lies,

66 Without his dart or flame.". Phillis, &c.

“ So many months in silence past,

" And yet in raging love, “ Might well deserve one word at last

“ My passion should approve." Phillis, &c.

“ Must then your faithful swain expire,

“ And not one look obtain; " Which he, to sooth his fond desire,

“ Might pleasingly explain ?" Phillis, without frown or smile, Sat and knotted all the while.


PHILLIS is my only joy,

Faithless as the winds or seas; Sometimes coming, sometimes coy, Yet she never fails to please.

If with a frown
I am cast down,
Phillis smiling,

And beguiling,
Makes me happier than before.

Though, alas ! too late I find

Nothing can her fancy fix;
Yet the moment she is kind,
I forgive her all her tricks;

Which though I see,
I can't get free;
She deceiving,

I believing;
What need lovers wish for more?

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