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On the Friendship betwixt SA CHARISSA and

T

AMORET.

By Mr WALLER.

ELL me, lovely loving pair!

Why fo kind, and so severe ?

Why fo careless of our care,
Only to yourselves fo dear?

By this cunning change of hearts,
You the pow'r of love controul;
While the boy's deluded darts

Can arrive at neither foul.

For in vain to either breaft

Still beguiled Love does come :

Where he finds a foreign gueft;
Neither of your hearts at home.

Debtors thus with like defign,

When they never mean to pay,

That they may the law decline,
To fome friend make all away.

Not the filver doves that fly,

Yok'd in Cytherea's car;

Not the wings that lift fo high;
And convey her fon fo far;

Are fo lovely, fweet, and fair,

Or do more ennoble love; Are fo choicely match'd a pair, or with more confent do move.

Оп а

GIRDLE.

T

By the fame.

HAT which her flender waift confin'd,
Shall now my joyful temples bind :
No monarch but would give his crown,
His arms might do what this has done.

It was my heav'n's extremeft fphere,
The pale which held that lovely deer:
My joy, my grief, my hope, my love,
Did all within this circle move!

A narrow compafs! and yet there Dwelt all that's good, and all that's fair: Give me but what this ribbon bound,

Take all the rest the fun

goes

round.

Q 2

ORI.

ORIENTAL ECLOGUES.

By Mr. COLLINS.

E CLOGUE I.

SELIM; OR, THE SHEPHERD'S MORAL.

SCENE, A VALLEY NEAR BAGDAT.

TIME, THE MORNING.

E Perfian maids, attend your poet's lays,

YE

And hear how fhepherds pafs their golden days. Not all are bleft, whom fortune's hand fuftains

With wealth in courts, nor all that haunt the plains:
Well may your hearts believe the truths I tell;
'Tis virtue makes the blifs, where'er we dwell.
Thus Selim fung, by facred truth infpir'd;
Nor praise, but fuch as truth bestow'd, defir'd:
Wife in himself, his meaning fongs convey'd
Informing morals to the fhepherd maid;
Or taught the fwains that fureft blifs to find,
What groves nor ftreams bestow, a virtuous mind.
When fweet and blushing, like a virgin bride,
The radiant morn refum'd her orient pride,

When wanton gales along the valleys play,

Breathe on each flower, and bear their fweets away;

By Tigris' wandering waves he fat, and fung
This useful leffon for the fair and young.

Ye Perfian dames, he faid, to you belong,
Well may they please, the morals of my fong:
No fairer maids, I truft, than you are found,
Grac'd with foft arts, the peopled world around!
The morn that lights you, to your loves fupplies
Each gentler ray delicious to your eyes:
For you those flowers her fragrant hands beflow,
And yours the love that kings delight to know.
Yet think not thefe, all beauteous as they are,
The best kind bleffings heaven can grant the fair!
Who truft alone in beauty's feeble ray,

Boaft but the worth Baffora's pearls display;
Drawn from the deep we own their furface bright,
But, dark within, they drink no luftrous light:
Such are the maids, and fuch the charms they boast,
By fenfe unaided, or to virtue loft.

Self-flattering fex! your hearts believe in vain

That love fhall blind, when once he fires the fwain ;

Or hope a lover by your faults to win,

As spots on ermin beautify the skin :

Who feeks fecure to rule, be firft her care

Each fofter virtue that adorns the fair;
Each tender paffion man delights to find,
The lov'd perfections of a female mind!

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Bleft were the days, when Wisdom held her reign, And fhepherds fought her on the filent plain;

With truth fhe wedded in the fecret grove,

Immortal truth, and daughters blefs'd their love.
O hafte, fair maids! ye virtues come away,
Sweet peace and plenty lead you on your way!
The balmy shrub, for you fhall love our shore,
By Ind excell'd or Araby no more.

Loft to our fields, for fo the fates ordain,
The dear deferters fhall return again.

Come thou, whofe thoughts as limpid fprings are clear,
To lead the train, fweet Modefty appear:

Here make thy court amidst our rural scene,
And fhepherd-girls fhall own thee for their queen.

With thee be Chastity, of all afraid,

Diftrufting all, a wife fufpicious maid;

But man the moft-not more the mountain doe
Holds the fwift falcon for her deadly foe.

Cold is her breaft, like flowers that drink the dew;

A filken veil conceals her from the view.
No wild defires amidst thy train be known,

But faith, whose heart is fix'd on one alone:
Defponding Meeknefs, with her down-caft eyes,
And friendly Pity, full of tender fighs;

And Love the laft: by thefe your hearts approve,
These are the virtues that must lead to love.

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