H.

The fhepherd mark'd his treacherous art,
And, foftly fighing, thus reply'd;
"Tis true, you have fubdu'd my heart,
But shall not triumph o'er my pride.

III.

The flave in private only bears
Your bondage who his love conceals,
But when his paffion he declares,
You drag him at your chariot-wheels.

H

SONG.

ARD is the fate of him who loves, Yet dares not tell his trembling pain, But to the fympathetic groves, But to the lonely liftening plain. Oh! when the bleffes next your shade, Oh! when her footsteps next are seen In flowery tracts along the mead, In fresher mazes o'er the green, Ye gentle Spirits of the vale! To whom the tears of love are dear, From dying lilies waft a gale, And figh my forrows in her ear. O tell her what she cannot blame, Tho' fear my tongue must ever bind; O! tell her that my virtuous flame Is as her fpotlefs foul refin'd. Not her own guardian angel eyes With chafter tenderness his care, Nor purer her own wishes rife, Nor holier her own fighs in prayer. But if, at first, her virgin fear Should ftart at Love's fufpected name, With that of Friendship footh her earTrue love and friendship are the fame.

SONGS.

SONG.

I.

ONE day the God of fond defire

On mischief bent, to Damon faid, Why not disclose your tender fire, Not own it to the lovely maid ?

SONG.

1.

U in vain I twine the woodbine bower';

NLESS with my Amanda bleft,

Uniefs to deck her sweeter breast,
In vain I rear the breathing Lower:

II.

Awaken'd by the genial year,
In vain the birds around me fing;
In vain the freshening fields appears
Without my love there is no fpring.

F

SONG.

OR ever, Fortune! wilt thou prove
An unrelenting foe to love,
And when we meet a mutual heart,
Come in between, and bid us part?
Bid us figh on from day to day;
And wish, aud wifh the foul away,
Till youth and genial years are flown,
And all the life of life is gone?
But bufy, bufy fill art thou,
'To bind the lovelefs joyless vow,
The heart from pleasure to delude,
To join the gentle to the rude.

For once, O Fortune! hear my prayer
And I abfolve thy future care;
All other bleffings I refign,
Make but the dear Amanda mine.

To feel the generous paffions rife,
Grow good by gazing, mild by fighs;
Each happy moment to improve,
And fill the perfect ear with love.

Come, thou delight of heaven and earth!
To whom all creatures owe their birth;
Oh come, fweet fmiling! tender, come!
And yet prevent our final doom:
For long the furious God of war
Has cruth'd us with his iron car,
Has rag'd along our ruin'd plains,
Has foil'd them with his cruel ftains,
Has funk our youth in endless Reep,
And made the widow'd virgin weep.
Now let him feel thy wonted charms;
Oh! take him to thy twining arms!
And, while thy bofom heaves on his,
While deep he prints the humid kifs,
Ah! then his ftormy heart controul,
And figh thyself into his foul.

SONG.

COME, gentle God of foft defire!

Come and poffefs my happy breaft, Not fury-like in flames and fire, Or frantic folly's wildness drest; But come in Friendship's angel-guife: Yet dearer thou than friendship art, More tender spirit in thy eyes, More fweet emotions at the heart. O come with Gooduefs in thy train, With Peace aud Pleafure, void of storm, And wouldst thou me for ever gain, Put on Amanda's winning form.

A NUPTIAL SONG.

Intended to have been inferted in the fourths Act of
Sopbonifve.

NOME, gentle Venus! and affuage
A warring world, a bleeding age;
For Nature lives beneath thy ray,
The wintry tempefts hafte away,
A lucid calm invests the fea,
Thy native deep is full of thee;
The flowering earth, where'er you fly,
Is all o'er fpring, all fun the fky;
A genial spirit warms the breeze;
Unfeen among the blooming trees,
The feather'd lovers tune their throat,
The defert growls a foften'd note;
Glad o'er the meads, the cattle bound,
And love and harmony go round.

But chief into the human heart
You ftrike the dear delicious dart;
You teach us pleafing pangs to know,
Te languish in luxurious woc;

H

AN

HYMN ON SOLITUDE.

AIL mildly pleafing Solitude!

Companion of the wife and good, But from whofe holy, piercing eye, The herd of fools and villains fly.

Oh how I love with thee to walk, And listen to thy whifper'd talk, Which innocence and truth imparts, And melts the most obdurate hearts.

A thousand fhapes you wear with ease, And ftill in every fhape you pleafe. Now wrapt in fome myfterious dream, A lone philofopher you feem; Now quick from hill to vale you fly, And now you weep the vaulted fky; A fhepherd next, you haunt the plain, And warble forth your caten ftrain. A lover now, with all the grace Of that fweet paffion in your face: Then, calm'd to friendship, you affume The gentle-looking Harford's bloom, As, with her Mufidora, the (Her Mufidora fond of thee) Amid the long-withdrawing vale, Awakes the rival'd nightingale.

Thine is the balmy breath of Morn, Juft as the dew-bent rofe is born; And while meridian fervours beat, Thine is the woodland dumb retreat; But chief, when evening fcenes decay, And the faint landfcape fwims away, Thine is the doubtful foft decline, And that beft hour of mufing thing.

Defcending angels biefs thy train, The virtues of the fage and fwain; Plain Innocence, in white array'd, Before thee lifts her fearless head;

Religion's beams around thee shine,
And cheer thy glooms with light divine!
About thee fports fweet Liberty;
And rapt Urania fings to thee.

Oh! let me pierce thy fecret cell,
And in thy deep receffes dwell

Perhaps from Norwood's oak-clad hill,
When Meditation has her fill,
I just may cast my careless eyes
Where London's fpiry turrets rife,
Think of its crimes, its cares, its pain,
Then fhield me in the woods again,