Nor thofe fair heavenly arches which arise
O'er each of them to shade their light;

"Tis not that hair which plays with every wind,
And loves to wanton round thy face;

Now ftraying o'er thy forehead, now behind
Retiring with infidious grace.

'Tis not that lovely range of teeth, as white
As new fhorn fheep, equal and fair;

Nor even that gentle fmile, the heart's delight,
With which no fmile could e'er compare ;
'Tis not that chin fo round, that neck fo fine,
Those breasts that fwell to meet my love;

That eafy floping waift, that form divine,
Nor ought below, nor ought above.

'Tis not the living colours over each,

By nature's finest pencil wrought,

To fhame the fresh blown rofe, and blooming peach, And mock the happiest painters thought:

But 'tis that gentle mind, that ardent love,

So kindly answering my defire;

That grace with which you look, and speak, and move, That thus have fet my foul on fire.

H

AIL to the myrtle fhade,

All hail to the nymphs of the fields!

Kings would not here invade

The pleasure that virtue yields.

Beauty here

To foften the languishing mind, And PHYLLIS unlocks her charms; Ah PHYLLIS! oh why fo unkind?

PHYLLIS, thou foul of love,

Thou joy of the neighbouring fwains ;
PHYLLIS, that crowns the grove,

And PHYLLIS that gilds the plains;
PHYLLIS, that ne'er had the skill
To paint, to patch and be fine,
Yet PHYLLIS whofe eyes can kill,
Whom nature hath made divine,

PHYLLIS, whofe charming fong
Makes labour and pains a delight;

PHYLLIS,

PHYLLIS, that makes the day young,
And shortens the live-long night;
PHYLLIS, whose lips like May

Still laugh at the fweets they bring;
Where love never knows decay,

But fits with eternal fpring.

LEE.

W

AFT me fome foft and cooling breeze To Windfor's fhady kind retreat, Where fylvan scenes, wide spreading trees Repel the raging dog-star's heat.

Where tufted grafs, and moffy beds
Afford a rural calm repofe;

Where woodbines hang their dewy heads,
And fragrant fweets around difclose.

Old oozy Thames that flows fast by
Along the fmiling valley plays;

His glaffy furface cheers the eye,
And thro' the flow'ry meadows ftrays.

His

His fertile banks with herbage green
His vales with smiling plenty fwell;
Where'er his purer ftream is feen

The Gods of health and pleasure dwell.

Let me thy clear, thy yielding wave
With naked arm once more divide ;
In thee my glowing bosom lave
And ftem thy gently rolling tide.

Lay me with damask roses crown'd
Beneath fome ofier's dufky fhade,
Where water lilies paint the ground
And bubbling fprings refresh the glade.

Let chafte CLARINDA too be there
With azure mantle lightly dreft;
Ye nymphs bind up her filken hair;
Ye Zephyrs fan her panting breast,

O hafte away, fair maid, and bring
The Mufe, the kindly friend to love,
To thee alone the Mufe fhall fing
And warble thro' the vocal grove.

LANSDOWN,

WHILE in the bower with beauty bleft

The lov'd AMINTOR lies,

While finking on ZELINDA's breaft
He fondly kiss'd her eyes;

A waking nightingale who long
Had mourn'd within the fhade,
Sweetly renew'd her plaintive fong
And warbled thro' the glade.

Melodious fongftrefs, cried the swain,
To fhades lefs happy go,

Or if with us thou wilt remain
Forbear thy tuneful woe.

While in ZELINDA's arms I lie

To fong I am not free;

On her foft bofom while I figh

I difcord find in thee.

ZELINDA