F

A

S

0 N G,

I.

AIR, sweet and young, receive a prize
Reserv'd for your victorious eyes :

From crouds, whom at your feet you fee,

O pity, and diftinguish me!

As I from thousand beauties more

Diftinguish you, and only you adore,
II.

Your face for conquest was design'd,
Your every motion charms my mind;
Angels, when you your filence break,
Forget their hymns, to hear you speak;

But when at once they hear and view,

Are loth to mount, and long to stay with you,

III.

No graces can your form improve,

But all are lost, unless you love;

While that sweet paffion you disdain,

Your veil and beauty are in vain :
In pity then prevent my fate,
For after dying all reprieve's too late.

HIGH

G.

others impart,

But give me your heart:

That treasure, that treasure alone,

I beg for my own.

So gentle a love, so fervent a fire,
My foul does inspire;

That treasure, that treasure alone,

I beg for my own.
Your love let me crave;

Give me in possessing
So matchless a bleffing;
That empire is all I would have.
Love's my petition,
All my ambition;
If e'er you discover
So faithful a lover,

So real a flame,

I'll die, I'll die,

So give up my game.

RONDELAY.

CH

I.

HLOE found Amyntas lying,
All in tears upon the plain;

Sighing to himself, and crying,
Wretched I, to love in vain !
Kiss me, dear, before my dying;
Kiss me once, and ease my pain!

II.

Sighing to himself, and crying,
Wretched I, to love in vain!
Ever scorning and denying

To reward your faithful fwain:
Kiss me, dear, before my dying;
Kiss me once, and ease my pain!

III.

Ever scorning, and denying

To reward your faithful swain:

Chloe, laughing at his crying,

Told him, that he lov'd in vain : Kiss me, dear, before my dying; Kiss me once, and ease my pain!

7

C

B IV.

Chloe, laughing at his crying,

Told him, that he lov'd in vain :

But repenting, and complying,
When he kiss'd, she kiss'd again :
Kiss'd him up before his dying;
Kiss'd him up, and eas'd his pain.

Go tell Amynta, gentle swain,

I would not die, nor dare complain :

Thy tuneful voice with numbers join,
Thy words will more prevail than mine.
To fouls oppress'd, and dumb with grief,
The gods ordain this kind relief;
That music should in sounds convey,
What dying lovers dare not say.

II.

A figh or tear, perhaps, she'll give,

But love on pity cannot live.

J

Tell her that hearts for hearts were made,

And love with love is only paid.

Tell her my pains so fast increase,

That foon they will be past redress ;
But ah! the wretch, that speechless lies,
Attends but death to close his eyes.

Fair Young LADY, going out of the Town in

the Spring.

I.

ASK not the caufe, why fullen Spring

So long delays her flowers to bear;

Why warbling birds forget to fing,
And winter storms invert the year:
Chloris is gone, and fate provides
To make it Spring, where she refides.