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LET the ambitious favour find
In courts and empty noise,
Whilst greater love does fill my mind
With silent real joys.

Let fools and knaves grow rich and great,
And the world think 'em wise,
Whilst I lie dying at her feet,
And all that world despise.

Let conquering kings new trophies raise,
And melt in court delights,

Her eyes can give me brighter days,

Her arms much softer nights.

COME, let us now resolve at last
To live and love in quiet;
We'll tie the knot so very fast,
That time shall ne'er untie it.



The truest joys they seldom prove
Who free from quarrels live;
'Tis the most tender part of love
Each other to forgive.

When least I seem'd concern'd, I took

No pleasure and no rest;
And when I feign'd an angry look,

Alas! I loved you best.

Own but the same to me, you'll find

How blest will be our fate:

Oh! to be happy, to be kind,
Sure never is too late.


FROM all uneasy passions free,
Revenge, ambition, jealousy,
Contented, I had been too blest
If love and you had let me rest:
Yet that dull life I now despise ;

Safe from your eyes

I fear'd no griefs, but then I found no joys.

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Amidst a thousand kind desires

Which beauty moves, and love inspires,
Such pangs I feel of tender fear,

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'Tis worth a life to die within your arms. SHEFFIELD DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM.

OFT on the troubled ocean's face

Loud stormy winds arise;
The murmuring surges swell apace,
And clouds obscure the skies.

But when the tempest's rage is o'er,
Soft breezes smoothe the main;
The billows cease to lash the shore,
And all is calm again.

Not so in fond and amorous souls
If tyrant love once reigns,
There one eternal tempest rolls,

And yields unceasing pains.


PREPARED to rail, resolved to part,
When I approach the perjured maid
What is it awes my timorous heart?
Why is my tongue afraid?

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With the least glance a little kind

Such wondrous power have MYRA's charms, She calms my doubts, enslaves my mind, And all my rage disarms.

Forgetful of her broken vows
When gazing on that form divine,
Her injured vassal trembling bows,
Nor dares her slave repine.


COME, all ye youths whose hearts e'er bled

By cruel beauty's pride;


Bring each a garland on his head,

Let none his sorrows hide;

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But hand in hand around me move,
Singing the saddest tales of love;
And see, when your complaints ye join,
If all your wrongs can equal mine.

The happiest mortal once was I,
My heart no sorrows knew ;
Pity the pain with which I die,
But ask not whence it grew :
Yet if a tempting fair you find,

That's very lovely, very kind,

Tho' bright as heaven whose stamp she bears, Think of my fate, and shun her snares.


SLOW Spreads the gloom my soul desires,
The sun from India's shore retires;
To Evanbanks, with temperate ray,
Home of my youth, it leads the day.
Oh, banks to me for ever dear!
Oh, stream whose murmurs still I hear!
All, all my hopes of bliss reside

Where Evan mingles with the Clyde.


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