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Is like the sacred queen of night,
Who pours a lovely gentle light
Wide o'er the dark, by wanderers blest,
Conducting them to peace and rest.

A vicious love depraves the mind,
'Tis anguish, guilt, and folly join'd;
But Seraphina's eyes dispense
A mild and gracious influence;
Such as in visions angels shed
Around the heav'n-illumin'd head.
To love thee, Seraphina, sure
Is to be tender, happy, pure ;
"Tis from low passions to escape,
And woo bright virtue's fairest shape;
'Tis ecstasy with wisdom join'd;
And heaven infus'd into the mind.



Ah, urg'd too late! from beauty's bondage free,
Why did I trust my liberty with thee?-
And thou, why didst thou, with inhuman art,
If not resolv'd to take, seduce my heart?
Yes, yes, you said, for lovers' eyes speak true;
You must have seen how fast my passion grew :
And, when your glances chanc'd on me to shine,
How my fond soul ecstatic sprung to thine !
But mark me,

fair-one-what I now declare
Thy deep attention claims and serious care:
It is no common passion fires my breast;
I must be wretched, or I must be blest!

My woes all other remedy deny;
Or, pitying, give me hope, or bid me die!


l'ith a copy of the Seasons.
Accept, lov'd Nymph, this tribute due
To tender friendship, love, and you :
But with it take what breath'd the whole,
0! take to thine the poet's soul.
If Fancy here her pow'r displays,
And if a heart exalts these lays-
You fairest in that fancy shine,
And all that heart is fondly thine.

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Tell me, thou soul of her I love,

Ah! tell me, whither art thou fled; To what delightful world above,

Appointed for the happy dead?

Or dost thou, free, at pleasure, roam,

And sometimes share thy lover's woe; Where, void of thee, his cheerless bome

Can now, alas ! no comfort know?

Oh! if thou hover'st ronnd my walk,

While, under every well-known tree, I to thy fancy'd shadow talk,

Aud every tear is full of thee :

Should then the weary eye of grief,

Beside some sympathetic stream, In slumber find a short relief,

Oh visit thou my soothing dream!

SONG. COME, gentle God of soft desire,

Come and possess my happy breast, Not fury-like in flames and fire,

Or frantic folly's wildness drest; But come in friendship's angel-guise :

Yet dearer thou than friendship art, More tender spirit in thy eyes,

More sweet emotions at the heart. O come with goodness in thy train,

With peace and pleasure void of storm, And wouldst thou me for ever gain,

Put on Amanda's winning form.

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One day the God of fond desire,

On mischief bent, to Damon said,
Why not disclose your tender fire,

Not own it to the lovely maid?
The shepherd mark'd his treacherons art,

And, softly sighing, thus reply'd:
'Tis true, you have subdued my heart,

But shall not triumph o'er my pride.

The slave, in private only bears

Your bondage, who his love conceals; But when his passion he declares,

You drag him at your chariot-wheels.


Hard is the fate of him who loves,

Yet dares not tell his trembling pain, But to the sympathetic groves,

But to the lonely listening plain.

Oh! when she blesses next your shade,

Oh! when her footsteps next are seen In flowery tracts along the mead,

In fresher mazes o'er the green:

Ye gentle spirits of the vale,

To whom the tears of love are dear, From dying lilies waft a gale,

And sigh my sorrows in her ear.

Oh! tell her what she cannot blame,

Though fear my tongue must ever hind; Oh tell her, that my virtuous flame

Is as her spotless soul refin’d.

Not her own guardian angel eyes

With chaster tenderness his care, Not purer her own wishes rise,

Not holier her own sighs in pray'r.

But if, at first, her virgin fear

Should start at love's suspected name, With that of friendship soothe her ear

True love and friendship are the same.


Unless with my Amanda blest,

In vain I twine the woodbine bower; Unless to deck her sweeter breast,

In vain I rear the breathing flower.

Awaken'd by the genial year,

In vain the birds around me sing; Iu vain the freshening fields appear :

Without my love there is no Spring.


For ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove
An unrelenting foe to love,
And when we meet a mutual heart,
Come in between, and bid us part.

Bid us sigh on from day to day,
And wish, and wish the soul away ;
Till youth and genial years are flown,
And all the life of life is gone?

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