FAIR, fweet, and young, receive a prize
Referv'd for your victorious eyes:
From crouds, whom at your feet you fee,
O pity, and diftinguish me!
As I from thousand beauties more
Distinguish you, and only you adore.
Your face for conqueft was defign'd,
Your every motion charms my
mind;
Angels, when you your filence break,
Forget their hymns, to hear you speak;
But when at once they hear and view,
Are loth to mount, and long to stay with you.
No graces can your form improve,
But all are loft, unless you love;
While that sweet paffion you difdain,
Your veil and beauty are in vain :
In pity then prevent my fate,
For after dying all reprieve's too late.
HIGH ftate and honours to others impart,
But give me your heart:
That treasure, that treasure alone,
I beg for my own.
So gentle a love, fo fervent a fire,
My foul does infpire;
That treasure, that treasure alone,
I beg for my own.
Your love let me crave;
Give me in poffeffing
So matchlefs a blessing;
That empire is all I would have.
Love's my petition,
All my ambition;
you difcover
So faithful a lover,
So real a flame,
I'll die, I'll die,
So give up my game.
GO tell Amynta, gentle swain,
I would not die, nor dare complain :
Thy tuneful voice with numbers join,
Thy words will more prevail than mine.
To fouls opprefs'd, and dumb with grief,
The gods ordain this kind relief;
That mufic fhould in founds convey,
What dying lovers dare not fay.
A figh or tear, perhaps, she'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 so fast increase,
That foon they will be past redress;
But ah! the wretch, that speechlefs lies,
Attends but death to close his eyes.
GOING OUT OF THE TOWN IN THE SPRING.
ASK not the caufe, why fullen Spring
So long delays her flowers to bear ;
Why warbling birds forget to fing,
And winter storms invert the
Chloris is gone, and fate provides
To make it Spring, where she refides.
Chloris is gone, the cruel fair;
She caft not back a pitying eye:
But left her lover in despair,
To figh, to languish, and to die:
Ah, how can those fair eyes endure
To give the wounds they will not cure!
Great god of love, why haft thou made
A face that can all hearts command,
That all religions can invade,
And change the laws of every land?
Where thou hadft plac'd fuch power before,
Thou fhouldft have made her mercy more.
When Chloris to the temple comes,
Adoring crowds before her fall;
She can reftore the dead from tombs,
And every life but mine recal.
I only am by Love design'd
To be the victim for mankind.
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