Sidor som bilder

But if thou wilt in darkness lurk,
And thy weak rage fulfil;

Take thy revenge on thy poor self,
And write bad satire still.


GENTLE mother chide no longer,
Touch not rough a tender flower,
In its bloom untimely fading,

Crush'd by sorrow's heavy show'r.

Have you on the same occasion,
Never with your duty strove;
Could you never hear persuasion
Dropping from the lip of love?


you seen the lovely stranger,
And had been so sweetly bid;
You had lost all thought of danger,
And lov'd him more than Mira did.

English Chronicle.


FAREWELL fields of Fontenay,
Where I first beheld the day!
Soon to close my aged eye,
Soon to join my ancestry;
When I seek their lowly cell,
Fields of Fontenay, farewell.
When the muse that wak'd my lyre,
Sees the breath she tun'd expire;
When the groves that wont to wave
O'er my slumbers, shade my grave;
Where I once enjoy'd the day,

Farewell fields of Fontenay!



SAYS Damon to his sprightly girl
To me this prayer be given,
To live with thee, angelic fair
I ask no more of heaven.

An higher boon thy Silvia craves, Cries she with roguish eye,

With Damon not content to live,

I wish with him to die.

English Chronicle.



CHLOE, I VOW sincerely
All to be vow'd by man,
I'll love you dearly, dearly,
As long as love I can.


You men when most you're kind,
Still for a change will plead;
And to love's feast we find,
A tedious fast succeed.

But this I vow sincerely,
That should it so befall;

You cease to love me dearly,
Why then, another shall.

English Chronicle.


THE Sweet deceiver hope destroys,

By airy visions, real joys;

Each future scene by her array'd

In brightness, makes the present fade;
All the long day we wish for night,
Then sigh for the return of light.

Through gloomy winter's reign we mourn
Till pleasure-pinion'd spring's return ;
But here, with joyless feet, we tread
The verdant lawn, or painted mead,
Till summer comes-yet ev'n from this
Enjoyment's fled; the promis'd bliss
Is now postpon'd, till autumn shews
Her golden fields and loaded boughs:
Hither we press-but vain the chace!
The phantom flies with equal pace:
Now winter charms-again it comes,
And her still tasteless reign resumes;
The trav❜ller thus, thick mists inclose,
But seem to fly where'er he goes,

Universal Magazine.



Lo! my fair the morning lazy,

Peeps abroad from yonder hill; Phoebus rises red and hazy,

Frost has stopp'd the village mill.


All around looks sad and dreary;
Fast the flaky snow descends:
Yet the red-breasts chirrup cheery,
While the mitten'd lass attends,


Rise the winds, and rocks the cottage,
Thaws the roof and wets the path
Dorcas cooks the sav'ry pottage,
Smokes the cake upon the hearth.


Sunshine intermits with ardour,
Shades fly swiftly o'er the fields;
Show'rs revive the drooping verdure,
Sweets the sunny uplands yields.


Pearly beams the eye of morning,
Child! forbear the deed unbless'd!

Hawthorn ev'ry hedge adorning,
Pluck the flow'r but spare the nest.


School-boys in the brooks disporting,
Spend the sultry hour of play;

While the nymphs and swains are courting,
Seated on the new made hay.


Maids with each a guardian lover,
While the vivid lightning flies;
Hast'ning to the nearest cover,

Clap their hands before their eyes.

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