TO MRS.

amore

In canuti pensier si disconvene.

GUARINI.

YES, I think I once heard of an amorous youth
Who was caught in his grandmother's bed;
But I own I had ne'er such a liquorish tooth
As to wish to be there in his stead.

'Tis for you, my dear madam, such conquests to

make:

Antiquarians may value you high :

But I swear I can't love for antiquity's sake,
Such a poor virtuoso am I.

I have seen many ruins all gilded with care,
But the cracks were still plain to the eye:
And I ne'er felt a passion to venture in there,
But turn'd up my nose, and pass'd by!

I perhaps might have sigh'd in your magical chain
When your lip had more freshness to deck it;
But I'd hate even Dian herself in the wane,-
She might then go to hell for a Hecate!

No, no! when my heart's in these amorous faints,
Which is seldom, thank Heaven! the case;
For, by reading the Fathers, and Lives of the
Saints,

I keep up a stock of good grace :

But then 'tis the creature luxuriant and fresh
That my passion with ecstasy owns;

For indeed, my dear madam, though fond of the flesh,

I never was partial to bones!

ON THE DEATH OF A LADY.

SWEET spirit! if thy airy sleep

Nor sees my tears, nor hears my sighs,

Oh! I will weep, in luxury weep,

Till the last heart's-drop fills mine eyes.

But if thy sainted soul can feel,

And mingles in our misery;

Then, then, my breaking heart I'll seal-
Thou shalt not hear one sigh from me

!

The beam of morn was on the stream,

But sullen clouds the day deform :
Thou wert, indeed, that morning beam,
And death, alas! that sullen storm.

Thou wert not form'd for living here,
For thou wert kindred with the sky;
Yet, yet we held thee all so dear,

We thought thou wert not form'd to die!

TO JULIA.

SWEET is the dream, divinely sweet,
When absent souls in fancy meet!-
At midnight, love! I'll think of thee!
At midnight, love! oh think of me!
Think that thou givest thy dearest kiss,
And I will think I feel the bliss.

Then, if thou blush, that blush be mine;
And, if I weep, the tear be thine!

ΤΟ

CAN I again that form caress,

Or on that lip in rapture twine? No, no! the lip that all may press

Shall never more be press'd by mine.

Can I again that look recal

Which once could make me die for thee?

No, no! the eye that burns on all

Shall never more be prized by me!

WRITTEN IN THE BLANK LEAF OF A

LADY'S COMMON-PLACE BOOK.

HERE is one leaf reserved for me,
From all thy sweet memorials free;
And here my simple song might tell
The feelings thou must guess so well.
But could I thus, within thy mind,
One little vacant corner find,
Where no impression yet is seen,
Where no memorial yet has been,
Oh! it should be my sweetest care
To write my name for ever there!

SONG.

AWAY with this pouting and sadness!
Sweet girl! will you never give o'er?
I love you, by Heaven! to madness,
And what can I swear to you more?
Pelieve not the old woman's fable,
That oaths are as short as a kiss;

I'll love you as long as I'm able,
And swear for no longer than this.

Then waste not the time with professions;
For not to be blest when we can,
Is one of the darkest transgressions

That happen 'twixt woman and man.—
Pretty moralist! why thus beginning
My innocent warmth to reprove?
Heaven knows that I never loved sinning—
Except little sinnings in love!

If swearing, however, will do it,

Come, bring me the calendar, prayI vow, by that lip, I'll go through it, And not miss a saint on my way.