Were Florella proud and four,
Apt to mock a lover's care;
Juftly then you'd pray that power
Shou'd be taken from the fair:
But tho' I spread a blemish o'er her,
No relief in that you'll find;
Still, fond fhepherd, you'll adore her
For the beauties of her mind.
EN years, like Troy, my ftubborn heart,
Withstood th' affault of fond defire :
But now, alas! I feel a fmart,
Poor I, like Troy, am fet on fire.
With care we may a pile fecure,
And from all common fparks defend :
But oh! who can a house secure,
When the celeftial flames defcend?
Thus was I fafe, till from your eyes
Destructive fires are brightly given ;
Ah! who can fhun the warm furprise,
When lo! the lightning comes from heaven.
Hilft I gaze on Chloe trembling,
Straight her eyes my
When she smiles I fear diffembling,
When the frowns I then despair.
Jealous of fome rival lover,
If a wand'ring look the give;
Fain I would refolve to leave her,
But can fooner cease to live.
Why should I conceal my paffion,
Or the torments I endure?
I will disclose my inclination :
Awful distance yields no cure.
Sure it is not in her nature,
To be cruel to her flave;
She is too divine a creature
To destroy what she can fave.
Happy's he whofe inclination
Warms but with a gentle heat:
Never mounts to raging paffion,
Love's a torment if too great.
When the ftorm is once brown over,
Soon the ocean quiet grows;
But a conftant faithful lover
Seldom meets with true repose.
SONG VI.
My days have been fo wondrous free,
The little birds that fly,
With careless eafe, from tree to tree,
Were but as blefs'd as I.
Ak gliding waters, if a tear
Of mine increas'd their ftream:
Or afk the flying gales, if e'er
I lent a figh to them.
But now my former days retire,
And I'm by beauty caught:
The tender chains of fweet defire
Are fix'd upon my thought.
An eager hope within my breaft
Does every doubt controul;
And lovely Nancy ftands confefs'd
The fav'rite of my foul.
Ye nightingales, ye twisting pines,
Ye fwains that haunt the grove,
Ye gentle echoes, breezy winds,
Ye close retreats of love;
With all of nature, all of art,
Affift the dear defign,
O teach a young unpractic'd heart,
To make her ever mine.
The very thought of change I hate,
As much as of despair,
And hardly covet to be great,
Unless it be for her.
'Tis true the paffion in my mind.
Is mix'd with foft diftrefs;
Yet while the fair I love is kind,
I cannot wish it lefs.
LL in the Downs the fleet was moor'd,
The ftreamers waving in the wind,
When black-ey'd Sufan came on board;
Oh! where fhall I my true love find?
Tell me, ye jovial failors, tell me true,
If my fweet William fails
William, who, high upon the yard,
Rock'd with the billows to and fro
Soon as her well-known voice he heard,
He figh'd, and caft his eyes below :
The cord lides gently thro' his glowing hands,
And quick as lightning on the deck he stands.
So the fweet lark, high pois'd in air,
Shuts clofe his pinions to his breast,
(If chance his mate's fhrill voice he hear),
And drops at once into her neft :
The nobleft captain in the British fleet
Might envy William's lips thofe kiffes fweet.
O Sufan, Sufan, lovely dear!
My vows fhall ever true remain,
Let me kifs off that falling tear,
We only part to meet again;
Change as ye lift, ye winds, my heart shall be
The faithful compafs that ftill points at thee.
Believe not what the landmen fay,
Who tempt with doubts thy conftant mind;
They'll tell, the failors, when away,
In ev'ry port a mistress find :
Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee fo,
For thou art prefent wherefoe'er I go :
If to fair India's coaft we fail,
Thy eyes are seen in diamond bright,
Thy breath is Afric's fpicy gale,
Thy fkin is ivory fo white;
Thus every beauteous object that I view,
Wakes in my foul fome charms of lovely Sue.
Tho' battles call me from thy arms,
Let not my pretty Sufan mourn,
Tho' cannons roar, yet fafe from harms
William fhall to his dear return.
Love turns afide the balls that round me fly,
Left precious tears fhould drop from Sufan's eye.
The boatswain gave the dreadful word,
The fails their (welling bofom spread,
No longer must she stay aboard;
They kifs'd; the figh'd; he hung his head:
Her leffening boat unwilling rows to land,
Adieu, the cries; and wav'd her lily hand.
Weet are the charms of her I love,
More fragrant than the damask rofe,
Soft as the down of turtle-dove,
Gentle as winds when zephyr blows,
Refreshing, as defcending rains
To fun-burnt climes and thirty plains.
True as the needle to the pole,
Or as the dial to the fun,
Conftant as gliding waters roll,
Whofe fwelling tides obey the moon ;
From every other charmer free,
My life and love fhall follow thee.
The lamb the flow'ry thyme devours,
The dam the tender kid pursues,
Sweet Philomel, in fhady bowers
Of verdant spring, her note renews ;
All follow what they moft admire,
As I pursue my foul's defire.
Nature must change her beauteous face,
And vary as the seasons rife ;
As winter to the fpring gives place,
Summer th' approach of autumn flies:
No change on love the feafons bring,
Love only knows perpetual spring.
Devouring time, with ftealing pace,
Makes lofty oaks and cedars bow
And marble towers and walls of brafs
In his rude march he levels low:
But time, deftroying far and wide,
Love from the foul can ne'er divide.
Death only, with his cruel dart,.
The gentle godhead can remove,
And drive him from the bleeding heart
To mingle with the blefs'd above,
Where known to all his kindred train,
He finds a lafting rest from pain.
Love and his fifter fair the foul,
Twin-born from heaven together came:
Love will the universe controul,
When dying feafons lose their name;
Divine abodes fhall own his power,
When time and death fhall be no more.
SONG IX.
Air Iris and her fwain
Were in a fhady bower,
Where Thirfis long in vain
Had fought the happy hour..
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