To AMORETTA.

W

HEN I held out against your eyes,
You took the fureft course

A heart unwary to furprize,
You ne'er could take by force.

However, tho' I strive no more,
The fort will now be priz'd;
Which, if furrender'd up before,
Perhaps had been despis'd.

But, gentle AMORETTA, tho'
I cannot love resist,

Think not, when you have caught me fo,
To use me as you list.

Inconftancy or coldness will

My foolish heart reclaim :
Then I come off with honour still,
But you, alas! with fhame.

A heart by kindness only gain'd,
Will a dear conquest prove;

And, to be kept, must be maintain'd
expence of love.

At vaft

The VENTURE.

H, how I languifh! What a ftrange
Unruly fierce defire!

My fpirits feel fome wondrous change,
My heart is all on fire.

Now, all ye wifer thoughts, away,
In vain your tale ye tell

Of patient hopes, and dull delay,
Love's foppifh part; farewell.

Suppofe one week's delay would give
All that my wishes move;
Oh, who fo long a time can live,
Stretch'd on the rack of love?

Her foul perhaps is too fublime,
To like fuch flavish fear;
Discretion, prudence, all is crime,
If once condemn'd by her.

When honour does the foldier call
To fome unequal fight,
Refolv'd to conquer or to fall,
Before his gen'ral's fight;

Advanc'd the happy hero lives;
Or if ill fate denies,

The noble rashness heav'n forgives,
And gloriously he dies.

D

Inconftancy Excufed.

SON
N G.

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:

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

Till languishing within your arms,
I figh my foul away.

SON G.

OH, conceal that charming creature

From my wondring, wishing eyes!

Ev'ry motion, ev'ry feature

Does fome ravish'd heart furprize;
But oh, I fighing, fighing, see
The happy swain! fhe ne'er can be
Falfe to him, or kind to me.

Yet, if I could humbly show her,
Ah! how wretched I remain ;

'Tis not, fure, a thing below her,
Still to pity fo much pain.

The Gods fome pleasure, pleasure take,
Happy as themselves to make
Those who fuffer for their fake.

Since your hand alone was giv'n

To a wretch not worth your care;
Like fome angel fent from heav'n,
Come and raise me from despair!
Your heart I cannot, cannot mifs,
And I defire no other bliss;
Let all the world befides be his.

DESPA I R.

LL hopeless of relief,
Incapable of reft,

In vain I strive to vent a grief
That's not to be exprest.

This rage within my veins
No reafon can remove;

Of all the mind's most cruel pains,
The sharpeft, fure, is love.

Yet while I languish fo,

And on thee vainly call;

Take heed, fair cause of all my woe,
What fate may thee befall.

Ungrateful, cruel faults.

Suit not thy gentle sex ;

Hereafter, how will guilty thoughts

Thy tender confcience vex!

When welcome death shall bring
Relief to wretched me,

My foul enlarg'd, and once on wing,
In hafte will fly to thee.