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ON HIS MISTRESS DROWN'D.

BY THO. SPRATT, BISHOP OF ROCHESTER.”

SWEET ftream, that doth with equal pace
Both thy felf fly, and thy felf chace
Forbear awhile to flow,
And liften to my woe.

Then go, and tell the sea that all its brine
Is fresh, compar'd to mine;

Inform it that the gentler dame,
Who was the life of all my flame,

In the glory of her bud,

Has pafs'd the fatal flood,

Death by this only ftroke triumphs above
The greatest power of Love:
Alas, alas! I must give o'er,
My fighs will let me add no more.

Go on, sweet stream, and henceforth reft
No more than does my troubled breast;
And if my fad complaints have made thee stay,
These tears, these tears shall mend thy way.

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CONSTANCY.

BY SIR CHARLES SEDLEY, BART."

FEAR not, my dear; a flame can never die
That is once kindled by so bright an eye:
View but thyself, and measure thence my love;
Think what a paffion such a form must move:
For, tho' thy beauty first allur'd my fight,
Now I confider it but as the light

That lead me to the treas❜ry of thy mind,
Whose inward virtue in that feature shin'd.
That knot, be confident, will ever laft,
Which fancy ty'd, and reason has made fast:
So fast, that time, altho' it may disarm
Thy lovely face, my faith can never harm;
And
age deluded, when it comes, will find
My love remov'd, and to thy foul affign'd.

* Born 1639; dyed 1701.

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A SON G.

BY THE SAME.

HEARS
EARS not my Phillis how the birds
Their feather'd mates falute ?

They tell their paffion in their words ; Muft I alone be mute?

Phillis, without frown or fmile,
Sat and knotted all the while.

The god of love in thy bright eyes
Does like a tyrant reign:

But in thy heart a child he lyes,
Without his dart or flame.
Phillis, without, &c.

So many months in filence past,
And yet in raging love,

Might well deferve one word at last
My paffion fhou'd approve.
Phillis, without, &c.

Muft then your faithful fwain expire,
And not one look obtain,

Which he, to footh his fond defire,

Might pleafingly explain?

Phillis, without, &c.

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INCONSTANCY EXCUSED.

SONG.

BY JOHN SHEFFIELD, DUKE OF

BUCKINGHAMSHIRE.*

I

MUST Confefs I am untrue
To Gloriana's eyes ;

But he that's fmil'd upon by you,
Muft all the world despise.

In winter, fires of little worth
Excite our dull defire;

But when the fun breaks kindly forth,
Those fainter flames expire.

Then blame me not for flighting now
What I did once adore;

O, do but this one change allow,
And I can change no more:

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Fixt by your never-failing charms,
Till I with age decay,

Till languishing within your arms,

I figh my foul away.

* Born 1646; dyed 1721.

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ON LUCINDA'S DEATH.

BY THE SAME.

COME all ye doleful, dismal cares,

That ever haunted guilty mind!
The pangs of love when it defpairs,
And all thofe ftings the jealous find:
Alas! heart-breaking tho' ye be,
Yet welcome, welcome all to me!

Free from her sex's smallest faults,
And fair as womankind can be ;
Tender and warm as lover's thoughts,
Yet cold to all the world but me.
Of all this nothing now remains,
But only fighs and endless pains.

Who now have loft-----but oh! how much?
No language, nothing can exprefs,
Except my grief; for she was fuch,

That praises would but make her less.
Yet who can ever dare to raise
His voice on her, unless to praise?

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