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LOVE AND JEALOUSY.
Tho' cruel you seem to my pain,
And hate me because I am true ; Yet, Phillis, you love a false swain,
Who has other nymphs in his view. Enjoyment's a trifle to him,
To me what a heaven 'twould be! To him but a woman you seem,
But ah! you're an angel to me:
Those lips which he touches in haste,
To them I for ever could grow, Still clinging around that dear waist,
Which he spans as beside him you go; That arm, like a lily so white,
Which over his shoulders you lay, My bosom could warm it all night,
My lips they could press it all day.
Were I like a monarch to reign,
Were graces my subjects to be, I'd leave them, and fly to the plain,
To dwell in a cottage with thee. But if I must feel your disdain,
If tears cannot cruelty drown, 0! let me not live in this pain,
But give me my death in a frown,
To be gazing on those charms,
To be lovd by one so fair,
Is to be blest beyond compare !
To be lov'd by one so fair,
[" Honest Harry introduced this song with a slight alteration, as a duet, in his little interlude of Nancy, or the Parting Lovers.' It appears however from his poems to have been written long before." Ritson.)
LOVE'S A RIDDLE.
The flame of love assuages,
When once it is reveal'd;
The more it is conceal'd.
When met it will retreat:
And dangers make it sweet.
HARRY CAREY'S GENERAL REPLY TO THE LIBELLING
GENTRY WHO ARE ANGRY AT HIS WELFARE.
With an honest old friend, and a merry old song,
A DITHYRAMBICK FOR TWO VOICES.
Cupid no more shall give me grief,
Or anxious cares oppress my soul; While generous Bacchus brings relief,
And drowns 'em in a flowing bowl.
Celia, thy scorn I now despise,
Thy boasted empire I disown, This takes the brightness from thine eyes
And makes it sparkle in my own.
THE MAID'S PETITION.
Cruel Creature ! can you leave me,
Can you then ungrateful prove? Did you court me to deceive me,
Aud to slight my constant love.
False ungrateful thus to woo me,
Thus to make my heart a prize, First to ruin and undo me,
Then to scorn and tyrannize. Shall I send to Heav'n my pray’r,
Shall I all my wrongs relate, Shall I curse the dear betrayer ?
No alas! it is too late.
Cupid ! pity my condition,
Pierce this unrelenting swain ! Hear a tender Maid's petition,
And restore my love again.
THE GROVES, THE PLAINS.
the plains, The nymphs, the swains, The silver stream, the cooling shade,
All, all declare
How false you are, How many hearts you have betray'd.
Too well I know,
To every she,
As well as me, You make an offering of your heart.
LOVE WITHOUT ALLAY.
Gazing on my idol treasure,
All my soul is lost in joy; She affords eternal pleasure,
And can never, never cloy. Ev'ry motion, ev'ry feature,
Shines with some peculiar grace, Never sure was human creature,
Blest with such an angel's face.