AIR. The princes applaud with a furious joy; And the king feiz'd a flambeau, with zeal to deftroy; Thais led the way, To light him to his prey, And, like another Helen, fir'd another Troy. IX. RECITATIVE. Thus, long ago, Ere heaving bellows learn'd to blow, While organs yet were mute; Timotheus, to his breathing flute, And founding lyre, Could fwell the foul to rage, or kindle soft defire. Inventress of the vocal frame; The sweet enthusiast, from her facred store, And added length to folemn founds, AIR. Let old Timotheus yield the prize, Or both divide the crown; She drew an angel down. 130 135 SONGS. N G S. I. THY origin's divine, I see, Of mortal race thou canst not be; Thy lip a ruby luftre shows; Thy fordid way of life despise, II. CONSTANTIA, fee, thy faithful slave Dies of the wound thy beauty gave! Ah! gentle nymph, no longer try Thy pity to my love impart, A wedded wife if thou wouldst be, III. THRICE lov'd Conftantia, heavenly fair, For thee a fervant's form I wear; Though bleft with wealth, and nobly born, For thee, both wealth and birth I scorn; conftant flame My love, that ne'er will cease, my love TRANSLATED FROM PERSIAN VERSES, Alluding to the Custom of Women being buried with their Husbands, and Men with their Wives. ETERNAL are the chains which here The generous fouls of lovers bind, When Hymen joins our hands, we swear And when, by death, the fair are snatch'd away, Left we our folemn vows fhould break, In the fame grave our living corpfe we lay, ANOTHER. MY Y dearest spouse, that thou and I Alike confum'd in love's foft fire, ON ARQUE ÄN ASSA OF COLOPHOS. ARQUEÄNASSA's charms infpire Within my breast a lover's fire; Age, its feeble spite displaying, Vainly wrinkles all her face, ON FULV I A, THE WIFE OF ANTHONY. FROM THE LATIN OF AUGUSTUS CÆSAR. WHILE from his confort falfe Antonius flies, And doats on Glaphyra's far brighter eyes, Fulvia, provok'd, her female arts prepares, Reprifals feeks, and spreads for me her fnares. "The husband's falfe."-But why must I endure This naufeous plague, and her revenge procure? What though she ask? How happy were my doom, Should all the discontented wives of Rome Repair in crowds to me, when fcorn'd at home! ""Tis war," fhe fays "if I refuse her charms :" Let's think-she's ugly.-Trumpets, found to arms! HUDI BRAS IMITATE D, WRITTEN IN 1710. Bleffed time of reformation, That's now beginning through the nation! The Jacks bawl loud for church triumphant, And fwear all Whigs shall kiss the rump on't. See |