Ah!' think not, in the dangerous hour,
The Nymph fictitious as the fow'r;
But shun, rash youth, the gay alcove,
Nor tempt the snares of wily love.

When charms thus press on ev'ry sense,
What thought of flight, or of defence ?
Deceitful hope, and vain desire,
For ever flutter o'er her lyre,
Delighting as the youth draws nigh,
To point the glances of her eye,
And forming with unerring art
New chains to hold the captive heart,

But on those regions of delight Might truth intrude with daring flight, Could Stella, sprightly, fair, and young, One moment hear the moral song, Instruction with her flowers might spring, And wisdom warble from her string.

Mark, when from thousand mingled dyes Thou seest one pleasing form arise, How active light, and thoughtful shade, In greater scenes each other aid ; Mark, when the different notes agree In friendly contrariety, How passion's well-accorded strife Gives all the harmony of life ; Thy pictures shall thy conduct frame, Consistent still, though not the same ; Thy music teach the nobler art, To tune the regulated heart.

EVENING: AN ODE.

TO STELLA.

EVENING now from purple wings
Sheds the grateful gifts she brings ;
Brilliant drops bedeck the mead,
Cooling breezes shake the reed;
Shake the reed, and curl the stream
Silver'd o'er with Cynthia's beam;
Near the chequer'd, lonely grove,
Hears, and keeps thy secrets, Love.
Stella, thither let us stray,
Lightly o'er the dewy way.
Phoebus drives his burning car,
Hence, my lovely Stella, far;
In his stead, the Queen of Night
Round us pours a lambent light;
Light that seems but just to show
Breasts that beat, and cheeks that glow.
Let us now, in whisper'd joy,
Evening's silent hours employ,
Silence best, and conscious shades,
Please the hearts that love invades,
Other pleasures give them pain,
Lovers all but love disdain.

TO THE SAME.

WHETHER Stella's eyes are found
Fix'd on earth, or glancing round,
If her face with pleasure glow,
If she sigh at others woc,

Ah !' think not, in the dangerous hour,
The Nymph fictitious as the flow'r;
But shun, rash youth, the gay alcove,
Nor tempt the snares of wily love.

When charms thus press on ev'ry sense,
What thought of flight, or of defence ?
Deceitful hope, and vain desire,
For ever flutter o'er her lyre,
Delighting as the youth draws nigh,
To point the glances of her eye,
And forming with unerring art
New chains to hold the captive heart.

But on those regions of delight Might truth intrude with daring flight, Could Stella, sprightly, fair, and young, One moment hear the moral song, Instruction with her flowers might spring, And wisdom warble from her string.

Mark, when from thousand mingled dyes Thou seest one pleasing form arise, How active light, and thoughtful shade, In greater scenes each other aid ; Mark, when the different notes agree In friendly contrariety, How passion's well-accorded strife Gives all the harmony of life; Thy pictures shall thy conduct frame Consistent still, though not the same Thy music teach the nobler art. To tune the regulated hear

EVENTS :

TO SE

EVENING Now irouro
Sheds the grateit:
Brilliant drops
Cooling breezes side
Shake the reec, ar..
Silver'd o'er wit..
Near the cheque
Hears, and seeria
Stella, thither 2: L: 34
Lightly o'er the next
Phoebus drives i 30.
Hence, my love
In his stead, wes sur
Round us pour 2 ans
Light that stem: 1. A
Breasts that: been
Let us now , IN WELADE
Evening's sites: 19:37
Silence bis, akr: bulir
Please te har ur
Other pleasures De
Lovers all in As-

If her
easy
air

express
Conscious worth, or soft distress,
Stella's eyes, and air, and face,
Charm with undiminish'd

grace,
If on her we see display'd
Pendant

gems,

and rich brocade,
If her chintz with less expence
Flows in easy negligence;
Still she lights the conscious flame,
Still her charms appear the same ;
If she strikes the vocal strings,
If she's silent, speaks, or sings,
If she sit, or if she move,
Still we love and still approve.

Vain the casual, transient glance,
Which alone can please by chance,
Beauty, which depends on art,
Changing with the changing heart,
Which demands the toilet's aid,
Pendant

gems

and rich brocade.
I those charms alone can prize
Which from constant nature rise,
Which not circumstance nor dress,
E'er can make, or more, or less.

TO A FRIEND.

No more thus brooding o'er yon heap,
With Avarice painful vigils keep;
Still unenjoy'd the present store,
Still endless sighs are breath'd for more.