Leave me, filly fhepherd go;
You only tell me what I know,
You view a thousand charms in me; Then cease thy prayers, I'll kinder grow, When I can view fuch charms in thee.
Leave me, filly fhepherd, go;
You only tell me what I know,
You view a thousand charms in me.
RECITATIVE.
Amyntor, fir'd by this difdain,
Curs'd the proud fair, and broke his chain;
He rav'd, and at the fcorner fwore,
And vow'd, he'd be Love's fool no moreBut Cloe fmil'd, and thus fhe call'd him back again.
Shepherd, this I've done to prove thee,
Now thou art a man, I love thee,
And without a blush refign.
But ungrateful is the paffion,
And destroys our inclination,
When, like flaves, our lovers whine.
Shepherd, this I've done to prove thee,
Now thou art a man, I love thee,
And without a blush refign.
THE KING OF FRANCE's BREAKING THE PEACE OF RESWICK.
Spartan youths! what fafcinating charms
Have froze your blood? why ruft your idle
When with awaken'd courage will you go,
And minds refolv'd, to meet the threatening foe?
What! fhall our vile lethargic floth betray
To greedy neighbours an unguarded prey?
Or can you fee their armies rufh from far,
And fit fecure amidst the rage of war?
Ye gods! how great, how glorious, 'tis to fee
The warrior-hero fight for liberty,
For his dear children, for his tender wife,
For all the valued joys, and foft fupports of life?
Then let him draw his fword, and take the field,
And fortify his breaft behind the fpacious fhield.
Nor fear to die; in vain you fhun your fate,
Nor can you shorten, nor prolong its date;
For life's a meafur'd race, and he that flies
From darts and fighting foes, at home inglorious dies
No grieving crowds his obfequies attend ;
But all applaud and weep the foldier's end,
Who, defperately brave, in fight fuftains
Inflicted wounds, and honourable stains,
And falls a facrifice to glory's charms:
But if a juft fuccefs fhall crown his arms,
For his return the refcued people wait,
To fee the guardian genius of the ftate;
With rapture viewing his majestic face,
His dauntless mien, and every martial grace,
They'll blefs the toils he for their safety bore,
Admire him living, and when dead adore.
UNDER THE PRINT OF TOM BRITTON,
THE MUSICAL SMALL-COAL MAN.
THOUGH mean thy rank, yet in thy humble
Did gentle peace and arts unpurchas'd dwell,
Well pleas'd Apollo thither led his train,
And Mufic warbled in her fweetest strain !
Cyllenius fo, as fables tell, and Jove,
Came willing guests to poor Philemon's grove.
Let ufelefs Pomp behold, and blush to find
So low a ftation, fuch a liberal mind.
N young Aftrea's fparkling eye,
Refiftlefs Love has fix'd his throne;
A thousand lovers bleeding lie
For her, with wounds they fear to own.
While the coy beauty fpeeds her flight
To diftant groves from whence he came ;
So lightning vanishes from fight,
But leaves the foreft in a flame !
I mock the trifling pain.
Venus, I fly thee !
I'm of chafte Diana's train.
RECITATIVE.
Bright Venus and her fon ftood by,
And heard a proud difdainful fair
Thus boast her wretched liberty;
They fcorn'd the fhould the raptures hare,
Which their happier captives know,
Nor would Cupid draw his bow
To wound the nymph, but laugh'd out this reply.
Proud and foolish! hear your fate!
Waste your youth, and figh too late
For joys which now you lay you hate.
When your decaying eyes
Can dart their fires no more,
The wrinkles of threefcore
Shall make you vainly wife.
Proud and foolish! hear your fate!
Waste your youth, and figh too late
For joys which now you fay you hate,
W OULD you gain the tender creature,
Softly gently-kindly-treat her;
Suffering is the lover's part :
Beauty by constraint poffeffing,
You enjoy but half the bleffing,
Lifelefs charms without the heart.
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