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W ALL ER.
Of a Lady singing to her LUTE.
AIR Charmer, cease, nor make FAIL
your prize A heart resign’d the conquest of your eyes: Well might, alas! that threatned vessel fail, Which winds and lightning both at once assail. We were too blest with these inchanting lays, 5 Which must be heav'nly when an Angel plays: But killing charms
lover's death contrive, Lest heav'nly music should be heard alive. Orpheus could charm the trees, but thus a tree, Taught by your hand, can charm no less than he:
made the filent wood pursue, This vocal wood had drawn the Poet too,
On a fan of the Author's design,
in which was painted the story of CEPHALUS and PROCRIS, with the Motto, AURA VENI.
CWME, gentle Air!
OME, gentle Air! th’Æolian shepherd said,
While Procris panted in the secret shade; Come, gentle Air, the fairer Delia cries, While at her feet her swain expiring lies. Lo the glad gales o’er all her beauties stray, Breathe on her lips, and in her bosom play! In Delia's hand this toy is fatal found, Nor could that fabled dart more surely wound: Both gifts destructive to the givers prove; Alike both lovers fall by those they love. Yet guiltless too this bright destroyer lives, At random wounds, nor knows the wounds the
gives: She views the story with attentive eyes, And pities Procris, while her lover dies.
CO W L E Y.
my Muse the flow'ry Treasures
sing, And humble glories of the youthful Spring ; Where opening Roses breathing sweets diffuse, And soft Carnations show'r their balmy dews; Where Lilies smile in virgin robes of white, 5 The thin undress of superficial Light, And vary'd Tulips show so dazling gay, Blushing in bright diversities of day. Each painted flouret in the lake below Surveys its beauties, whence its beauties grow; 10 And pale Narcissus on the bank, in vain Transformed, gazes on himself again. Here aged trees Cathedral Walks compose, And mount the hill in venerable rows; There the green Infants in their beds are laid, 15 The Garden's Hope, and its expected shade. Here Orange-trees with blooms and pendants shine, And vernal honours to their autumn join ;
Exceed their promise in the ripen'd store,
W E E PIN G.
HILE Celia's Tears make forrow bright,
Proud grief fits swelling in her eyes; The Sun, next those the faireft light,
Thus from the Ocean firft did rife: And thus thro' Mists we see the Sun,
35 Which else we durst not gaze upon.
These silver drops, like morning dew,
Foretell the fervour of the day:
And blasting lightnings burst away.
eye, Declare our Doom in drawing nigh.
The Baby in that sunny Sphere
So like a Phaëton appears,
Thought fit to drown him in her Tears: