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For oh! that form fo heavenly fair,
Thofe languid eyes fo fweetly fmiling,
That artless blush, and modest air,
So artfully beguiling!

Thy every look, and every grace

So charms whene'er I view thee,
Till death o'ertake me in the chase
Still will my hopes pursue thee:
Then when my tedious hours are past
Be this laft bleffing given,

Low at thy feet to breathe my last,
And die in fight of heaven.

HAMILTON.

G%

O, tell AMYNTA, gentle fwain,
I would not die, nor dare complain;
Thy tuneful voice with numbers join,
Thy voice will more prevail than mine:
For fouls opprefs'd, and dumb with grief,
The Gods ordain'd this kind relief,
That mufic fhould in founds convey

What dying lovers dare not say.

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A figh, or tear, perhaps, fhe'll give,
But love on pity cannot live.

Tell her, that hearts for hearts were made,
And love with love is only paid.

Tell her, my pains fo faft increase,
That foon they will be past redress;
For ah! the wretch that speechlefs lies,
Attends but death to close his eyes.

DRYDEN.

YES,

ES, faireft proof of beauty's power,
Dear idol of my panting heart;

Nature points this my fatal hour;
And I have liv'd; and we must part.

While now I take my last adieu

Heave thou no figh, nor fhed a tear,

Left yet my

half-clos'd eye may

view

On earth an object worth its care.

From

From jealoufy's tormenting ftrife

For ever be thy bofom freed; That nothing may disturb thy life Content I hasten to the dead.

Yet when fome better fated youth

Shall with his amorous parly move thee,

Reflect one moment on his truth

Who dying thus perfifts to love thee.

PRIOR.

N vain you tell your parting lover

IN

You with fair winds may waft him over:

Alas! what winds can happy prove

That bear me far from what I love?
Alas! what dangers on the main
Can equal thofe which I fuftain

From flighted vows and cold difdain?

Be gentle, and in pity choose
To wish the wildeft tempefts loose;
That, thrown again upon the coaft
Where firft my fhipwreck'd heart was lost,
I may once more repeat my pain,
Once more in dying notes complain
Of flighted vows and cold difdain.

PRIOR.

TH

HE heavy hours are almost past That part my love and me; My longing eyes may hope at last Their only wish to fee.

But how, my DELIA, will you meet
The man you've lost so long?
Will love in all your pulfes beat,
And tremble on your tongue?

Will you in every look declare
Your heart is ftill the fame;

And

And heal each idle anxious care

Our fears in absence frame ?

Thus DELIA, thus I paint the scene
When shortly we shall meet,
And try what yet remains between
Of loit'ring time to cheat.

But if the dream that fooths

my

mind

Shall falfe and groundless prove,

If I am doom'd at length to find

You have forgot to love;

All I of Venus afk is this,

No more to let us join ;

But grant me here the flatt'ring bliss,
To die and think you mine.

LYTTELTON.

F wine and mufic have the

IF

power

To ease the fickness of the foul,

Let Phoebus every string explore,

And Bacchus fill the sprightly bowl.

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