The Cupid: a Collection of Love Songs

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Priv. print. for subscribers only at the Moray Press, 1891 - 171 pages
 

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Page 100 - Why so pale and wan, fond lover? Prithee, why so pale? Will, when looking well can't move her, Looking ill prevail? Prithee, why so pale?
Page 70 - My dear Mistress has a heart Soft as those kind looks she gave me ; When, with love's resistless art, And her eyes, she did enslave me ; But her constancy's so weak, She's so wild and apt to wander, That my jealous heart would break Should we live one day asunder.
Page 63 - I'll try, And to revenge my slighted love, Will still love on, will still love on, and die! 285 When, kill'd with grief, Amyntas lies, And you to mind shall call The sighs that now unpitied rise, The tears that vainly fall: That welcome hour that ends this smart, Will then begin your pain; For such a faithful, tender heart Can never break, can never break in vain.
Page 18 - 'WAS when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring. All on a rock reclined. Wide o'er the foaming billows She cast a wistful look ; Her head was crown'd with willows, That trembled o'er the brook.
Page 46 - Of mine increas'd their stream ? Or ask the flying gales, if e'er I lent one sigh to them ? But now my former days retire, And I'm by beauty caught, The tender chains of sweet desire Are fix'd upon my thought.
Page 7 - FAREWELL ungrateful traitor, Farewell my perjured swain; Let never injured creature Believe a man again. The pleasure of possessing Surpasses all expressing, But 'tis too short a blessing, And love too long a pain.
Page 75 - Blest as the immortal gods is he, The youth who fondly sits by thee, And hears and sees thee all the while Softly speak and sweetly smile.
Page 159 - Say, mighty Love, and teach my song To whom thy sweetest joys belong ; And who the happy pairs Whose yielding hearts, and joining hands, Find blessings twisted with their bands, To soften all their cares. Not the wild herd of nymphs and swains That thoughtless fly into thy chains, As custom leads the way: If there be bliss without design, Ivies and oaks may grow and twine, And be as blest as they. Not sordid souls of...
Page 72 - Let her own that her shepherd was true. Then to her new love let her go, And deck her in golden array, Be...
Page 27 - You violets that first appear, By your pure purple mantles known Like the proud virgins of the year, As if the spring were all your own ; What are you when the rose is blown ? So, when my mistress shall be seen In form and beauty of her mind, By virtue first, then choice, a Queen, Tell me, if she were not design'd Th...

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