« AnteriorContinuar »
When she whisper'd a tender adieu,
The Loves would no longer remain; And with them the PLEASUREs withdrew, As they never had quitted her train.
O swains, &c.
AH! wherefore did I daring gaze
Upon the radiance of thy charms; And, vent'ring nearer to their rays,
How dar'd I clasp thee in my arms?
That kiss will give my heart a pain,
Which Cynthia's pity will deplore ; Then take, O take the kiss again,
Or let me take a hundred more.
PART OF A LETTER
TO MY SISTERS, AT CRUX-EASTON,
WRITTEN FROM CAIRO, IN EGYPT, AUGUST, 1734.
By the Rev. Dr. LISLE.
WHILE you, my dear girls, in your paradise
your wood too and grotto so swimn in my
sight, They give me no respite by day or by night: No sooner asleep but I'm dreaming of
you; I am just wak'd from one,—would to God it
Methought I was now a fine gentleman grown, And had got, Lord knows how, an estate of my Good-bye to plain Tom, I was rais'd a peg higher; Some call'd me his WORSHIP, and others the
'SQUIRE. 'Twas a place, I remember, exactly like Easton, A scene for an Emperor's fancy to feast on. There I built a fine house with great cost and
great care, (Your la’ships have form'd many such in the air), Not of stucco, nor brick, but as good Portland stone As Kent* would desire to be working upon. The apartments not small, nor monstrously great, But chiefly for use, and a little for state ; So begilt, and becarv’d, and with ornaments grac’d, That every one said, I'd an excellent taste. Here I liv'd like a king, never hoarded my pelf, Kept a coach for my sisters, a nag for myself, With something that's good when our Highclear friends come,
[room. And, spite of 'Squire HERBERT, a fire in each A canal made for profit as well as for pleasure, That's about, let me see, two acres in measure;
* The painter and architect.
to delight, and the table to crown, With a jack, or a perch, when my uncles come
An exceeding great wood, that's been set a great while,
(mile. In length near a league, and in breadth near a There every dear girl her bright genius displays, In a thousand fine whimsies, a thousand fine ways. O how charming the walks to my fancy appear ! What a number of temples and grottos are here! My soul was transported to such an extreme, That I leap'd up in raptures,— when lo! 'twas a Then' vexing I chid the impertinent day (dream. For driving so sweet a delusion away. Thus spectres arise, as by nurse-maids we're told, And hie to the place where they buried their gold : There hov'ring around until morning remain, Then sadly return to their torments again.
By the Rev. RICHARD JAGO, M.A.
THE had chas'd the mountain snow,
And kindly loos’d the frozen soil, The melting streams began to flow,
And ploughmen urg'd their annual toil.
’T was then, amid the vocal throng,
Whom nature wakes to mirth and love, A BLACKBIRD rais’d his am'rous song,
And thus it echo'd through the grove.
66 O fairest of the feather'd train !
For whom I sing, for whom I burn,
love a kind return.