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F will be by time repaid;

AIR nymph, remember all your fcorn

Thofe glories which that face adorn,
And flourish as the rifing morn,

Muft one day fet and fade:

Then all

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your cold difdain for me
Will but increase deformity,
When ftill the kind will lovely be.
Compaffion is of lafting praise,
For that's the beauty ne'er decays.

Fair nymph, avoid thofe ftorms of fate
Are to the cruel due;

The powers above, tho' ne'er fo late,
Can be, when they revenge your hate,

As pitilefs as you.

Know, charming maid, the powers divine
Did never fuch soft eyes defign

To wound a heart fo true as mine:

That god who my dear flame infus'd,
Will never fee it thus abus'd.

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N April, when primroses paint the fweet plain, And summer approaching, rejoyceth the swain, The yellow-hair'd laddie wou'd oftentimes go To wilds and deep glens where the haw-thorn trees


There, under the fhade of an old facred thorn, With freedom he fung his loves, evening and morn; Hefang with so soft and inchanting a found,

That filvans and fairies unfeen danc'd around,

The shepherd thus fung, Tho' young Maya be fair. Her beauty is dash'd by a scornful proud air; But Sufie was handsome, and sweetly cou'd fing, Her breath like the breezes perfum'd in the spring.

That Madie, in all the gay bloom of her youth, Like the moon was inconstant, and never spoke truth; But Sufie was faithful, good-humour'd and free, And fair as the goddess that sprung from the fea.

That Mamma's fine daughter, with all her great dower, Was awkardly airy, and frequently four: Then, fighing, he with'd, wou'd parents agree, The witty fweet Sufie his mistress might be.


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H love, that stronger art than wine!
Pleafing delufion, witchery divine,
Wont to be priz'd above all wealth,
Disease that has more joys than health;
Tho' we blafpheme thee in our pain,
And of thy tyranny complain,
We all are better'd by thy reign.

What reason never can bestow
We to this useful paffion owe.
Love wakes the dull from fluggish ease,
And learns a clown the art to please;
Humbles the vain, kindles the cold,
Makes mifers free, and cowards bold;
"Tis he reforms the fot from drink,
And teaches airy fops to think.

When full brute appetite is fed,
And choak'd the glutton lies, and dead,
Thou new spirits dost dispense,

And fine'ft the grofs delights of fenfe.
Virtue's unconquerable aid,

That against nature can perfwade,
And makes a roving mind retire
Within the bounds of just defire;
Chearer of age, youth's kind unrest,
And half the heaven of the bleft.

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ET's be jovial, fill our glaffes,

Madness 'tis for us to think
How the world is rul'd by affes,
And the wise are sway'd by chink.

Then never let vain cares oppress us,
Riches are to them a fnare;

We're every one as rich as Crœfus,
While our bottle drowns our care.

Wine will make us red as roses,
And our forrows quite forget;

Come let's fuddle all our nofes,

Drink ourselves quite out of debt.

When grim death comes looking for us,
We are toping off our bowls,
Bacchus joining in the chorus,

Death, begone, here's none but fouls.

God-like Bacchus thus commanding,
Trembling death away shall fly,
Ever after understanding,

Drinking fouls can never die.


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Rolling in their humid fires, When the nymph extended lies

Full of love and warm defires: Confcious red her face o'er-fpreading, And her heaving bofom rifing; Milky paths to raptures leading,

Murmuring fighs her joys difguifing.

Happy lovers only know

The blifs that from confenting lovers flow.

Listen then to young defire,

Nor with your pride against your blifs confpire,
Defire, like a faithful friend,

Perfuades fubftantial pleasure;

Like chymick boasts your pride will end

In meer imagin'd treasure.

Then fure the ftrife you'll foon decide

(What can your scruples move?) Betwixt the fickly glare of pride, And generous warmth of love.


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