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Let Fancy take her wing, and find

But, cruel goddess ! when I find Som better dreams to sooth my mind;

Diana's coldness in your mind, O, waking lei mo learn to live;

How can I bear that fix'd disdain ? The girns het will lastruction give.

My pleasure dies, and I but live in pain us Thymes does glide Serene. wils a iritsui tiut, Fr rute extremes of ebb and tow,

Tyrant Cupid! when, relenting, -11d too high, nor sunk too low:

Will you touch the charmer's heart? Suci my lite's smooth curreni be,

Sooth her breast to soft consenting, T!!! from Time's narrow shore set free,

Or remove from mine the dart ! It ringle with th' (ternal sea;

Tyrant Cupid! when, relenting, And, there enlarg'?', shall be no more

Will you touch the charmer's heart? That tritling thing it was before.

But see! while to my passion voice I give,

Th’applauded beauty, doubly bright,
A WISH, TO THE NEW YEAR, Seems in the moving tale to take delight,

And looks as she would let me live;

And yet she chides, but with so sweet an air, Janus! great leader of the rolling year, That while she love denies, she yet forbids despair Since all that's past no vows can e'er restore, But joys and griefs alike, once hurry'd o'er, No longer nou deserve a smile or tear;

Fear not, doubting fair! t approve me i Close the fantastie scenes-but grace

Can you love me? With brightest aspects thy foreface,

Froun not, if you answer no; While Time's new oilspring hastens to appear. If you answer, frown not, no, With lucky omens guide the coming Hours,

When again I ask, pursuing, Cominand the circling Seasons to advance,

If you'll stay and see my ruin? And forin their renovated dance,

Fly--but let me with you go! With flowing pleasures fraught, and bless'd by

Blush not, doubting fair! t approve mci friendly powers.

Can you love me?
Thy month, 0 Janus! gave me first to know

Smile, and every fear forego!
A mortal's triling cares below;
My race of life began with thee,
Thus far, froin great misfortunes free,
Contented, I my lot endure,

Nor Nature's rigid laus arraign,
Nor spurn at common ills in vain,

FOR VOCAL AND INSTRUMENTAL MUSIC, Which Folly cannot shun, nor wise Redection cure.

TO THE MEMORY OF THE MOST NOBLE But oh!--more anxious for the year to

come, I woulil foreknow my future doom,

WILLIAM DUKE OF DEVONSHIRE, Then tell me, Janus, canst thou spy Events that yet in enabryo lie For me, in Time's mysterious womb?

Tell me nor shall I dread to hear,

A thousand accidents severe;
I'll fortify my soul the load to bear,
If Love rejected du not to its weight,

[Overture of soft Music] To fimsh me in woes, and crush me down with Fate.

But if the goddess, in whose charming eyes,
More clearly written than in Fate's dark book,

My joy, my grief, my all of future fortune lies;

Ye generous Arts and Muses, join;

Thow, If she inust with a less propitious look

While down your cheeks the streaming sorrows Forbid my humble sacritice,

Let murmuring strings with the soft voice combine Or blast me with a killing frown;

T” express the melody of Woe.
If, Janus, this thou seest in store,

And thou, Augusta! rise and wait,
Cut short my mortal thread, and now

With decent honours, on the great ;
Take back the gift thou lidst bestow!

Condole my loss, and weep Devonia's fate,
Here let me lay my burthen down,
And cease to love in vain, and be a wretch no more.

Queen of cities! leare awhile

Thy beautcous sinile,

Turn to tender grief thy joy.

From thy shore of Thames replying,

Gentlest Echoes, fainting, dying,
HUILE on your blooning charms I gaze,

Shall their sorrow too employ.
Your tender lips, your soft enchanting eyes,

Queen of cities! leave awhile And all the Venus in your face,

Thy beauteous smile, I'm tilld with pleasure and surprise:

Turn to tender grief thy jor,







And, hated by all tyrants, chose

The glory to have such his foes.”
'Tis Fame's chief immortality,

Britannia, to be mourn’d by thee.

I know the loss; from midniglit skies
Ill omens late did strike my eyes;

Genius of Britain! give thy sorrows o'er :
Near the radiant northern car

A grateful tribute thou hast paid
I look'd, and saw a falling star.

To thy Devonia's noble shade;

Now vainly weep the dead no more!

For see-the duke and patriot still survives,
Lands remote the loss will hear;

And in his great successor lives.
From rocks reporting,
Seas transporting,

Will the wafted sorrow bear.
Winds that fly

I own the new-arising light,
Will softly sigh,

I see paternal grandeur shine,
Astar has left the British sphere.

Descending through th' illustrions line, Lands remote, &c.

In the same royal favours bright.


BRIT. Gently smooth thy flight, O Time!
Great George! whose azure emblems of renown
Are the fair gifts of Britain's crown,

Smoothly wing thy tiight, 0 Tine!
Patron of my illustrious isle !

BOTH. And as thou, flying, growest old,

Still this happy race behold Thou saw'st thy order late express'd,

In Britannia's court sublime. With added brightness, on Devonia's breast;

BRIT. Lead along their smiling Ilours ; Meet the companion knight, and own him with a

Long produce their siniling Hours; smile.

BOTH, Blest by all auspicious powers.

BRIT. Gently simooth thy flight, O Time!

Smoothly wing thy flight, O Time!
BRIT. To shade his peaceful grave,

BOTH. And as thou, flying, growest old,
Let growing palms extend !

Still this happy race behold
AUG. To grace his peaceful grave,

In Britannia's court sublime,
Let hovering Loves attend !









To grace, &c.
BRIT. And wakeful Fame defend,

ACG. And grateful Truth commend
boty. The generous and the brave!




Now shall Augusta's sons their skill impart,

Whether our stage all others dors excel
And summon the dumb sister Art,
In marble life to show

In strength of wit, we'll not presume to tell:
What the patriot was below.

But this, with noble, conscious pride, we'll say,

No theatre such glories can display;
Here, let a weeping Cupid stand,
And sound himself with his own dart;

Such worth conspicuous, beauty so divine,
There place the ducal crown, the sword, the wand, who can, without amazement, turn his sight,

As in one British audience mingled shine. The mark of Anna's trust and his command,

And mark the awful circle here to-night?

Warriors, with ever-living laurels, brought Lofty birth and honours shining

From empires sard, from battles bravely fought, Bring a light on noble minds,

Here sit; whose matchless story shall adorn Every courtly grace combining,

Scenes yet unwrit, and charm e'en ages yet unborn. Every generous action joining,

Yet who would not expect such martial fire,
With eternal laurel binds.

That se's what eyes those gallant deeds inspire ? Lofty birth and honours shining

Valour and Beauty still were Britain's claim,
Bring a light on noble minds,

Both are her great prerogatives of fame;

By both the Muses live, from both they catch their


Then as by you, in solid glory bright, Behold fair Liberty attend,

Our envy'd Isle through Europe spreads her light, And in Devonia's loss bewail a friend,

And rising honours every year sustain, See o'er his tomb perpetual lamps she lights, And mark the golden tract of Anne's distinguish'd Then, on his urn, the goddess writes:

reign; “ Preserve, O Urn! his silent dust,

So, by your presence here, we'll strive to raise Who faithful did obey

To nobler heights our action and our plays; Princes like Anna, good and just,

And poets from your favours shall derive Yet scorn'd his freedom to betray;

That immortality they boast to give.


IN A WINDOW AT GREENHITHE. Great President of light, and Fye of day, As through this glass you cast your visual ray, And view with nuptial joys two brothers blest, And see us celebrate the genial feast, Confess, that in your progress round the sphere, You've found the happiest youths and brightest

beauties here.

Le P. Amour, je ne veux plus aimer;

Jabjure à jamais ton empire:
Mon cæur, lassé de son inartire,

A résolu de se calmer.
L'Am. Contre moi, qui peut t'animer?

Iris dans ses bras te rapelle.
LE P. Non, Iris est une infidelle;

Amour, je ne veux plus aimer.
L'Am. Pour toi, j'ai pris soin d'enflamer

Le cour d'une beauté nouvelle;
Daphne, -

|--LE P. Non, Daphné n'est que belle; Amour, je ne veux plus aimer. L'Am. D'un soupir, tu peux désarmer

Dircé, jusqu'ici si sauvage.
LE P. Elle n'est plus dans le bel age;

Amour, je ne veux plus ainer.
L'am. Mais si je t'aidois à charmer

La jeune, la brillante Flore.-
Tu rougis-vas-tu dire encore,

Amour, je ne veux plus aimer.
LE P. Non, dieu charmant, daigne former

Pour nous une chaine eternelle;
Mais pour tout ce qui n'est point elle,
Amour, je ne veux plus aimer.


Hile circling healths inspire your sprightly wit, And on each glass some beauty's praise is writ, You ask, my friends, how can my silent Muse To Montague's soft name a verse refuse? Bright though she be, of race victorious sprung, Ky wits ador'd, and by court-poets sung; Unmov'd I hear her person call'd divine, I see her features uninspiring shine; A softer fair my soul to transport warms, And, she once uam'd, no other nymph has charms.


TOFTS AND MARGARETTA. Music has learn'd the discords of the state, And concerts jar with Whigs and Tory hate. Hlere Somerset and Devonshire attend The British Tofts, and every note commend; To native Merit just, and pleas’d to see We're Roman arts, froin Roman bondage free: There fam'd L'Epine does equal skill employ, While listening peers crowd to th' ecstatic joy: Bedford, to hear her song, his dice forsakes, And Nottingham is raptur'd when she shakes: Lullid statesmen melt away their drowsy cares Of Englaul's safety, in Italian airs. Who would not send cach year blank passes o'er, Rather than keep such strangers from our shore?


POET. No, Love--I ne'er will love again;

Thy tyrant empire I abjure :
My weary heart resolves to cure

Its wounds, and ease the raging pain. LOVE. Fool! can t thou fly my happy reign?

Iris recals thee to her arms. POET. She's false-I hate her perjur'd charms;

No, Lovel ne'cr will love again. LOVE. But know, for thee P've toild to gain

Daphiné, the bright, the reigning toast. POET. Daphné but common eyes can boast;

No, Love- ne'er will love again. LOVE. She who before scorn'd every swain,

Dircé, shall for one sigh be thine. Port. Age makes her rays too faintly shine;

No, Love-I ne'er will love again.
LOVE. But should I give thee charms t'obtain

Flora, the young, the bright, the gay!
I see thee blush-now, rebel, say,

No, Love--I ne'er will love again.
POET. No, charming god, prepare a chain

Eterual for that fair and ine!
Yit still know every fair but she,
I've vow'd I ne'er will love again.

TIE WANDERING BEAUTY. The Graces and the wandering Loves

Are fled to distant plains,
To chase the fawns, or, decp in grores,

To wound adıniring swains.
With their bright mistress there they stray,

Who turns her careless eyes
From daily triumphs; yet, each day,
Beholds new triumphs in her way,

And conquers while she flies.
But sec! implor'd] by moving prayers,

To change the lover's pain,
Venus her harness'd doves prepares,

And brings the fair again.
Proud mortals, who this maid pursue,

Think you shelle'er resiun?
Cease, fools, your wishes to renew,
Till she grows flesh and blood like you,

Or you, like her, divine!.





Bunold u bere weeping Venus stands !
What inore than mortal grief can move
The bright, th' immortal queen of love?
She bats her breast, she wrings her hands;





And hark, she mourns, but mourns in vain,

RECITATIVE, Her beauteous, lov'd Adonis, slain.

Ah, foolish Strephon! change thy strain; The hills and woods her loss deplore;

The lovely scene false joy inspires : The Naiads hear, and Rock around;

For look, thou fond, deluded swain, And Echo sighs, with mimic sound,

A rising storm invades the main! Adonis is no more!

The planet of the night, Again the goddess raves, and tears her hair:

Inconstant, from thy sight Then vents her grief, her love, and her despair. Behind a cloud retires.

Flora is filed; thou lov'st in vain :

Ah, foolish Strephon! change thy straice
Dear Adonis, Beauty's treasure,
Now my sorrow, once my pleasure;
O return to Venus' arms!

Hope beguiling,
Venus never will forsake thee;

Like the Moon and Ocean smiling,
Let the voice of Love o'ertake thee,

Does thy easy faith betray;
And revive thy drooping charms.

Flora ranging,

Like the Moon and Ocean changing,

More inconstant proves than they,
Thus, queen of beauty, as the poets feign,
While thou didst call the lovely swain;

Transforin'd by heavenly power,
The lovely swain arose a flower,
And, siniling, grac'd the plain.

And now he blooms, and now he fades;
Venus and gloomy Proserpine

Fair rival to the god of day,
Alternate clain bis charms divine;
By tuins restor'd to light, by turns he seeks the Beauty, to thy celestial ray

A thousand sprightly fruits we owe;

Gay wit, and moving eloquence,

And every art t'improve the sense,
Transporting joy,

And every grace that shines below.
Tormenting fears,

Not Phoebus does our songs inspire,
Reviving smiles,

Nor did Cyllenius forın the lyre,
Succeeding tears,

'Tis thou art music's living spring;
Are Cupid's various train.

To thee the poet tunes his lays,
The tyrant boy

And, sweetly warbling Beauty's praise,
Prepares his darts,

Describes the power that makes him sing:
With soothing wiles,
With cruel arts,

Painters from thee their skill derive,
And pleasure blends with pain.

By thee their works to ages live,
For ev'n thy shadows give surprise,
As when we view in crystal streams
The morning Sun, and rising beams,

That seem to shoot from other skies.

Enchanting vision! who can be

Unmov'd that turns his eyes on thee?
Yet brighter still thy glories shine,
And double charms thy power improve,
When Beauty, dress'd in smiles of Love,

Grows, like its parent Heaven, divine!
Young Strephon, by his folded sheep,
Sat wakeful on the plains;
Love held his weary eyes from sleep,
While, silent in the vale,

The listening nightingale,

Forgot her own, to hear his strains.
And now the beauteous queen of night,

Unclouded and serene,
Shels on the neighbouring sea her silver light;

The neighbouring sea was calm and bright; Love frowns in beauteous Myra's eyes;
The shepherd sung inspird, and bless'd the lovely

Ah, nymph! those cruel looks give o'er.

While Love is frowning, Beauty dies,

And you can charm no more.
While the sky and seas are shining,
See, my Flora's charms they wear;

Mark, how, when sullen clouds appear, Secret Night, my joys divining,

And wintry storins deface the year,
Pleas'd my amorous tale to hear,

The prudent cranes no longer stay,
Smiles, and softly turns her spbere.

But take the wing, and through the air, While the sky and seas are shining,

From the cold region fly away,
Sec, my Flora's charms they wear. And far o'er land and seas to warmer climges repair









Just so, my heart-But seems
Ah no!

While, loud with conquest and with wine, She smiles--I will not, cannot go.

His jolly troop around him reel'd along,

And taught the vocal skies to join

In this applauding song.
Love and the Graces smiling,
In Myra's eyes beguiling,

Again their charms recover,

Bacchus, ever gay and young,
Would you secure your duty,

First did drinking joys ordain:
Let kindness aid your beauty,

1. Bacchus' blessings are a treasure,
Ye fair, to sooth the lover,

2. Drinking is the soldier's pleasure.

1. Rich the treasure!

2. Sweet the pleasure !

POTH. Sweet is pleasure after pain !

Fir'd with the sound, the king grew vain;

Fought all his battles o'er again,

And thrice he routed all his foes, and thrice he AN ODE IN HONOUR OF ST. CECILIA'S DAY,

slew the slain.

The master saw the madness rise,

His glowing cheeks, his ardent eyes;

And while he Heaven and Earth defy'd,

He chose a mournful Muse,

Soft pity to infuse;

(pride, 'Twas at the royal feast, for Persia won

Then thus he chang'd his song, and check'd his
By Phillip's warlike son;
Aloft in awful state,
The godlike hcro sate

See Darius great and good,
On his imperial throne:

By too severe a fate,
His valiant peers were plac'd around;

Fall'n from his high estate: Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound.

Behold his flowing blood !

On earth th' expiring monarrh lies,

With not a friend to close his eyes.
Lovely Thais by his side
Blooming sat in beauty's pride.

Happy, happy, happy pair!

With downcast looks the joyless victor sate, None but the brave deserves the fair!

Revolving in his alter'd soul

The various turns of chance below;

And, now and then, a sigh he stole,
Timotheus plac'd on high,

And tears began to flow,
Amid the tunetul quire,

The mighty master smild to see
With flying fingers touch'd the lyre;

That Love was in the next degree,
Trembling the notes ascend the sky,

'Twas but a kindred sound to move,
And heavenly joys inspire.
The song began from Jove,

For Pity melts the mind to Love,
Who left bis blissful seats above;

Softly sweet in Lydian measures, (Such is the power of inighty Love!)

Soon he sooth’d his soul to pleasures. A dragon's fiery form bely'd the yod;

WITH FLUTES, Sublime on radiant spires he rode,

War is toil and trouble, When he to fair Olympia pressid,

Honour is an airy bubble,
And while he sought her snow y breast;

Never ending, still beginning,
Then round her slender waist he curl’d,
And stamp'd an image of himself, a sovereign of

Fighting still, and still destroying,

If the world be worth thy winning, the world. The listening crowd adore the lofty sound,

Think, ( think it, worth enjoying; A present deity, they shout around:

Lovely Thais sits beside thee,
A present deity, the echoing roofs rebound;

Take the good the gods provide thee
With ravish'd ears

The prince anable to conceal his pain,
The monarch hears,

Gaz'd on the fair,
Assumes the god,

Who caus'd his care,
Affects the nod,

And sigh'd and look'd, sigh'd and lookid,
And seems to shake the spheres.

Sigh'd and look'd, and sigh'd again:

At length, with Love and Wine at once oppressid, RECITATIVE.

The vanquish'd victor sunk upon her breasta The praise of Bacchus then the sweet musician sung,

Of Bacchus ever fair, and ever young:
Behold he comes, the victor god!

1. Phæbus, patron of the lyre,
Flush' with a purple grace,

2. Cupid, god of soft desire, He shows his honest face ;

[rode, 1. Cupid, god of soft desire, As when, by tigers drawn, o'er India's plains he 2. Phæbus, patron of the lyre,



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