Nor fear to die; in vain

Nor can you shorten, nor prolong its date ;
For life's a measur'd race, and he that flies
From darts and fighting foes, at home inglorious dies;
No grieving crowds his obfequies attend;
But all applaud and weep the foldier's end,
Who, defperately brave, in fight fuftains
Inflicted wounds, and honourable stains,
And falls a facrifice to glory's charms :
But if a just success shall crown his arms,
For his return the rescued people wait,
To fee the guardian genius of the state;
With rapture viewing his majestic face,
His dauntless mien, and every martial grace,
They'll blefs the toils he for their fafety bore,
Admire them living, and when dead adore.

20

25

30

UNDER THE PRINT OF

TOM BRITTON,

THE MUSICAL SMALL-COAL MAN.

THO

HOUGH mean thy rank, yet in thy humble cell
Did gentle peace and arts unpurchas'd dwell.

Well pleas'd Apollo thither led his train,

And mufic warbled in her sweetest strain :

poor

Cyllenius fo, as fables tell, and Jove,
Came willing guests to Philemon's grove.
Let useless pomp behold, and blush to find
So low a station, fuch a liberal mind.

5

SONG.

IN young Aftrea's fparkling eye,

Refiftlefs Love has fix'd his throne;

A thousand lovers bleeding lie

For her, with wounds they fear to own.

II.

While the coy beauty speeds her flight
To diftant groves from whence the came;
So lightning vanishes from fight,

But leaves the forest in a flame!

A CANTATA.

SET BY MR. D. PURCELL.

AIR.

LOVE, I defy thee!

Venus, I fly thee!

I'm of chafte Diana's train.

Away, thou winged boy!

Thou bear'ft thy darts in vain,

I hate the languid joy,

I mock the trifling pain.

Love, I defy thee!

Venus, I fly thee!

I'm of chafte Diana's train.

RECITATIVE.

Bright Venus and her fon ftood by,
And heard a proud disdainful fair
Thus boast her wretched liberty;

They fcorn'd she should the raptures share,
Which their happier captives know,
Nor would Cupid draw his bow

To wound the nymph, but laugh'd out this reply.

Waste your youth, and figh too late
For joys which now you fay you hate.
When your decaying eyes
Can dart their fires no more,
The wrinkles of threescore
Shall make you vainly wife.

Proud and foolish! hear your fate!

Waste

your youth, and figh too late For joys which now you fay you hate.

WOULD you gain the tender creature,

Softly-gently-kindly-treat her!

Suffering is the lover's part: Beauty by constraint poffeffing, You enjoy but half the bleffing,

Lifelefs charms without the heart.

10

15

20

25

5

CUPID AND SCARLATI.

A

CANTAT A.

SET BY MR. PE PUS CH、

RECITATIVE

ON filver Tyber's vocal shore,

The fam'd Scarlati ftrook his lyre,
And ftrove, with charms unknown before,
The fprings of tuneful found t' explore,
Beyond what art alone could e'er infpire;
When fee-the fweet effay to hear,
Venus with her fon drew near,
And pleas'd to ask the master's aid,
The mother goddess fmiling faid.

5

10

The pleas'd musician heard with joy,

And, proud to teach th' immortal boy,

15

Did all his fongs and heavenly skill impart;
The boy, to recompense his art,

Repeating did each fong improve,

And breath'd into his airs the charms of love, And taught the master thus to touch the heart. 20

YE tender powers! how shall I move

A careless maid that laughs at love?
Cupid to my fuccour fly:

Come with all thy thrilling darts,
Thy melting flames to foften hearts;

Conquer for me, or I die!

Ye tender powers! how shall I move
A careless maid that laughs at love?
Cupid, to my fuccour fly!

K

5

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