Could my mufe fecond what my love infpires,
And eloquently paint it's bold defires,
All my foft paffion and my woes exprefs,
Rife with my transports in their sweet ex-
cefs;

Difclofe my love that rules with tyrant fway,
Strong as the tide and boundless as the fea :"
I, bleft beyond the pow'r of fpeech, should
prove

The first in favour, as the most in love!
Apollo could not write a warmer lay';
Faint to my lines the fplendor of his ray!
Ah! let thy pity reach an humble fwain!
Thy eyes alone will justity his pain;
Thy charms will tell what caus'd his tender

woc,

Tore his warm breast, and bid his forrows flow. Oh! could't thou view with nice difcerning

art,

The lovely image graven on his heart!
Clear as thy mind, it would his grief reveal,
And she must pity, who refus'd to heal.
Struck with thy charms, I leave not truth
behind,

Nor ftrain my wit foft compliments to find, Let cringing coxcombs rack their fhallow brains,

In fearch for nonfenfe to exprefs their pains:
I feel what I exprefs, no flatt'ry fend;
A fervent lover, and a conftant friend!
I know fome eyes are with your perfon
charm'd,

And fear their bofoms with your eyes are warm'd.

See Virtue like a guardian angel ftand,
The role of Eden blooms beneath its hand;
Charms ftill on charms on all your features
pour,

Fresh as the dew that bathes the fragrant flow'r

Let not thy language hurt a vestal's ear,
My purpofe honour, and my vows lincere ;
Till Fortune bless me with an ample store,
My name is fecret--but I must adore!
To blefs, did Afluence with her millions
greet,

I'd throw the glittring millions at thy feet;
Sigh till subdu'd by violence of pray'r,
Thy chearing voice fould bid me not defpair,

But if fome worthier fwain thy hand fhall blefs,

Oh! let that happy swain thy heart possess! I'll pray for both, with the last panting breath,

And grafp thy image in the bed of Death.

ΟΝ

LOVE.

"She came in all her beauty like the moon from the cloud of the Eaft-Loveliness was around her as light-her steps were liko the mufic of fongs-her foul was generous and mild as the hour of the setting fun.” OSSIAM

WHAT is the paffion Love?—a fond

The darling of the breaft-a reftlefs fire,
Afpiring to that height of human blifs,
Which never was attain'd, nor ever is.
A foft diforder, native of the mind-
In youth the pleasing tickling pain we find.
The theme were tempting, tho' a dang❜rous
thing,
Dar'd I, O Love! thy powerful charms to
fing.
Alas! my lays will still unequal prove;
Nor can an Ovid tell how tenderly we love.
-Elind fon of Venus! elevate the lays,
Of one whe withes modeftly to praife,
Thy pure enjoyments, (were the talent mine)
In the plain accents of an honest line.

O Love! how do thine arrows wing their flight, And pierce each gen'rous foul with true delight;

They only taught his favage heart to feel,
And forc'd Achilles at thy fhrine to kneel;
And proud Atides was compell'd to fay,
The black-ey'd maid had stole his heart away;
And Ajax, by no human pow'er controul'd,
His eye, in fecret, on his fair one roll'd;
Nor could the feven-fold fhield his heart de
fend,

Nor all that pride which knew not how to

bend.

Nor youth, nor age can fhun the tickling dart. Thro' the bright eye directed to the heart.

Love levels all-he throws his chains
around,

And pride and av'rice feel alike his wound':
For love triumphant rushes on the mind,
Expells our reafon-throws all care behind;
Its tearing rangs, when raging on the breast,
Require fubmiffion, or we cannot rest.
The pow'rs of love our admiration raise,
Excite our wonder-but tranfcend all praise.
Not Jove, the fabled ruler of the fky,
Their fubtle influence could refift, or fly.
Tho' the proud Ithacan remain'd unkind,
Calypfo, to a man, her heart r fign'd.
No lefs example we from Dido have,
When for Æneas her own life the gave.
Can we o'erlook Panthea, fam'd of old,
Or her dear spouse, Abradates the Bold:
One foul celeftial feem'd both to inspire,
A foul fo full of true congenial fire;
And both alike one fortune did purfue,
One fate they fought-one grave contain'd

the two.

Examples croud—Why Portia's tale relate?
O love! what pangs attend thy happiest state?
A faithful lover is a glorious name,
The fair's ambition, and delight fupreme.

Inflam'd by love, the foul is all on fire,
And Cupid's power even favages admire :
For beauty charms the moft ferocious mind;
And the hard ruffian cannot be unkiod.
Sweet is that impulfe which the bofom fires,
Alike the prince and cottager inspires;
Makes the proud monarch to a subject bend,
And learns the proud coquet to be a friend.
The lowly peafant in his calm retreat
Wants this to make his happiness complete.
The hermit, buried in his lonely cell,
To love, and to despair, once knew too well.
The poor and opulent, the weak and br.ve;
The vaunting hero, and the pining flave
With genuine rapture's own Love's fove-
reign fway,

And all he dictates inftantly obey.

Perhaps the paffion moves within the fair : If fo, what need I for the world to care? The fcoffs, the jefts, the banters of the crowd Will be to me but rules for my own good, By teaching inexperience how to ad, And when youth errs, the way he should re

The wanton youth is whistling in my car, The bright deluding charms of fuch a fair My feul's full charg'd, the pleasing pangs in. crease,

A lays

Of her who courts no other praise,
No tribute afks but your's:
Ambition has no charms for me,
I crave but sweet content, and thee,
To crown the lovely hours.

tract.

A bofom, warm'd with love's celestial fire, Beels no refpite, till mutual flames expire. The pow'rs of love are wonderfully frong; To them alone real honesty belong. There's no deceit within the lover's breaft, His, of all human feelngs, are the belt.

Obferve the jarring elements above-
Thus the red light'ning, from the hand of
Jove,

Receives new vigour, rages ftil more loud,
By meeting in its course the watry Blood:
Hence oppofition Ipurs its awful race,
And the curb bridle haftens on the chace;
dos increase the gen'rous lover's flame,
envy vilify's her fav'rite's name.

And Love's artillery ev'ry nerve impress. -
But reft, my Mufe, for endless is the theme,
And I a humble candidate for fame.
Banks of Nitb.

A LONZO.

The COMPLAINT. Addrefled to MARIA R

The powers above alone can tell Why thus I ask, and you repel,

My forces thus lofe ground; You urge fuch frivolous pretence, Your reafon's not of confequence: Comply with my demand.

Hafte to my aid, fome pity fhew,
And let me fee the pearly dew,
The dear diffufing tear;
That tributary tear of woe
The happiest mortal fcorns to owe;
Hafte and diffuse it here.