TO A YOUNG GENTLEMAN IN LOVE.

A TALE.

BY THE SAME.

FROM

ROM public noife, and factious ftrife, From all the bufy ills of life,

Take me, my Celia, to thy breast;
And Jull my wearied foul to rest.
For ever, in this humble cell,

Let thee and I, my fair one, dwell;
None enter elfe, but Love-and he
Shall bar the door, and keep the key.

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To painted roofs, and shining spires, (Uneafie feats of high defires) Let the unthinking many croud, That dare be covetous and proud: In golden bondage let them wait, And barter happiness for state.

But oh! my Celia, when thy fwain 15 Defires to fee a court again,

May heav'n around his destin'd head

The choiceft of its curfes fhed!

To fum

up

all the rage of fate

In the two things I dread and hate,
May'st thou be falfe, and I be great!

}

Thus, on his Celia's panting breast, Fond Celadon his foul expreft; While with delight the lovely maid Receiv'd the vows, fhe thus repaid: 25

Hope of my age, joy of my youth, Bleft miracle of love and truth; All that could e'er be counted mine, My love and life, long fince are thine:

A real joy I never knew,

Till I believ'd thy paffion true:

A real grief I ne'er can find,
Till thou prov'ft perjur'd, or unkind.
Contempt, and poverty, and care,
All we abhor, and all we fear,
Bleft with thy prefence, I can bear.
Thro' waters and thro' flames I'll go,
Suff'rer and folace of thy woe:
Trace me fome yet unheard-of way,
That I thy ardour may repay;
And make my conftant paffion known,
By more than woman yet has done.

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Had I a wish that did not bear The ftamp and image of my dear; I'd pierce my heart through ev'ry vein, And die, to let it out again.

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(If Venus ever lov'd like me)

That for one hour I would not quit
My fhepherd's arms, and this retreat, 50
To be the Perfian monarch's bride,
Partner of all his pow'r and pride;
Or rule in regal state above,
Mother of Gods, and wife of Jove.

O happy thefe of human race!
But foon, alas! our pleasures pass. 56
He thank'd her on his bended knee;
Then drank a quart of milk and tea;
And, leaving her ador'd embrace,
Haften'd to court to beg a place.
While fhe, his abfence to bemoan,
The very moment he was gone,
Call'd Thyrfis from beneath the bed!
Where all this time he had been hid.

MORAL.

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WHILE men have these ambitious fancies;

And wanton wenches read romances; Our fex will---What? Out with it. Lie; And their's in equal ftrains reply.

The moral of the tale I fing

(A pofy for a wedding-ring)

In this fhort verfe will be confin'd:
Love is a jeft; and vows are wind.

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THE GARLAND.

BY THE SAME.

I.

THE pride of every grove I chose,

The violet sweet, and lilly fair, The dappl'd pink, and blushing rose, To deck my charming Cloe's hair.

II.

At morn the nymph vouchsaft to place
Upon her brow the various wreath;
The flow'rs lefs blooming than her face,
The scent lefs fragrant than her breath.

III.

The flow'rs she wore along the day :

And ev'ry nymph and fhepherd faid, That in her hair they lookt more gay Than glowing in their native bed.

IV.

Undreft at evening, when she found
Their odours loft, their colours past;
She chang'd her look, and on the ground
Her garland and her eye she caft.

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V.

That eye dropt sense distinct and clear,
As any Mufe's tongue could speak,
When from its lid a pearly tear

Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek.
VI.

Diffembling what I knew too well,
My love, my life, faid I, explain
This change of humour: pr'ythee tell :
That falling tear-what does it mean?

VII.

She figh'd; she smil'd: and to the flow'rs
Pointing, the lovely moralist faid;
See! friend, in fome few fleeting hours,
See yonder, what a change is made!

VIII.

Ah me! the blooming pride of May,

And that of beauty, are but one:

gay;

At morn both flourish bright and
Both fade at evening, pale, and gone,

IX.

At dawn poor Stella danc'd and fung;
The am'rous youth around her bow'd;
At night her fatal knell was rung;

I saw, and kiss'd her in her shrowd.

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