Thus, while my thoughts are fix'd on her,
I'm all o'er transport and defire;
My pulfe beats high, my cheeks appear
All rofes, and mine eyes all fire.
When to myself I turn my view,
My veins grow chill, my cheeks look wan:
Thus, whilft my fears my pains renew
I fcarcely look, or move a man.
WOULD you taste the noon-tide air?
To yon fragrant bow'r repair,
Where, woven with the popler bough,
The mantling vine will shelter you.
Down each fide a fountain flows,
Tinkling, murm'ring, as it goes
Lightly o'er the moffy ground,
Sultry Phoebus fcorching round.
Round the languid herds and sheep,
Stretch'd o'er funny hillocks, fleep
While on the hyacinth and rofe
The fair does all alone repose.
All alone-yet, in her arms,
Your breaft may beat to love's alarms,
Till blifs and bleffing you fhall own,
The joys of love are joys alone.
XCVI. The Laplander's Love Song.
THOU rifing fun, whofe gladfome ray
Invites my fair to rural play,
Difpel the mist, and clear the fkies,
And bring my Orra to my eyes.
Oh! were I fure my dear to view,
I'd climb the pine-trees topmost bough;
Aloft in air, that quiv'ring plays,
And round and round for ever gaze.
My Orra Moor, where art thou laid ?
What wood conceals my fleeping maid,
Up by the roots enrag'd I'd tear
The trees that hide my promis'd fair,
Oh! could I ride on clouds and kies,
Or on the raven's pinions rife !
Ye ftorks, ye fwans, a moment stay,
And waft a lover on his way.
My blifs too long my bride denies :
Apace the wafting fummer flies;
Nor yet the wintry blafts I fear,
Not ftorms, or night fhall keep me here.
What may for ftrength with steel compare?
Oh! love has ftronger fetters far;
By bolts of fteel are limbs confin'd.
But cruel love enchains the mind.
No longer then perplex thy breast;
When thoughts torment, the first are beft,
'Tis mad to go, 'tis death to Ray;
Away to Orra, hafte away!
XCVIII. The Happy Marriage.
HOW bleft has my time been! What joys have I
Since wedlock's foft bondage made Jeffy my own;
So joyful my heart is, fo eafy my chain,
That freedom is taftelefs, and roving a pain.
That freedom is taßbeless, &c.
Thro' walks grown with woodbines as often we ftray,
Around us our boys and girls frolic and play r
How pleafing their fport is, the wanton ones fee,
And borrow their looks from my Jeffy and me.
And borrow their looks, &c...
To try her sweet temper, oft times am I feen,
To revel all day with the nymphs on the green:
Though painful my abfence, my doubts the beguiles,
And meets me at night with complacence and fmiles.
And meets me at night, &c.
What though on her cheeks the rofe lofes its hue,
Her wit and good humour bloom all the year through;
Time ftill, as he flies, adds increase to her truth,
And gives to her mind what he fleals from her youth.
And gives to her mind, &c.
Ye fhepherds fo gay, who make love to enfnare,
And cheat with falfe views the too credulous fair;
In fearch of true pleasure, how vainly you roam ?
To hold it for life, you must find it at home.
To hold it for life, &c.
XCVIII. An thou wert my ain Thing.
F race divine thou needs must be,
Since nothing earthly equals thee;
For heav'ns fake, oh! favour me,
Who only lives to love thee.
An thou wert my ain thing,
I would love thee, I would love thee;
An thou wert, my ain thing, r
How dearly would I love thee !!
The gods one thing peculiar have,
To ruin none whom they can save;
O! for their fake, fupport a flave,
Who only lives to love thee.
An thou wert, &c.
To merit I no claim can make,
But that I love, and, for your fake;
What man can do I'll undertake;
So dearly do I love thee.
My paffion, conftant as the fun,
Flames stronger ftill, will ne'er have done,
Till fate my thread of life has fpun,
Which breathing out I'll love thee.
-Like bees that fuck the morning dew,
Frae flowers of sweetest scent and hue,
Sae wad I dwell upon thy mou',
And gar the gods envy me,
Sac lang's I have the use of light,
I'd on thy beauties feaft my fight,
Syne in faft whifpers, through the night,
I'd tell how much I love thee.
How fair and ruddy is my Jean!
She moves a goddefs 'o'er the green;
Were I a king thou fhould be queen,
Nane but my fell aboon thee.
I'd grafp thee to this breaft of mine,
Whilft thou, like ivy, or the vine,
Around my ftronger limbs fhould twine,
Form'd hardy to defend thee,
Time's on the wing, and will not stay,
In fhining youth let's make our hay;
Since love admits of nae delay;
O let nae fcorn undo me.
While love does at his altar ftand,
Hae there's my heart, gie me thy hand,
And with ilk fmile thou fhalt command
The will of him wha loves thee.
An thou wert my ain thing, &c.
YOUTH's the feafon made for joys,
Love is then our duty;
She alone who that employs,
Well deferves her beauty.
Let's be gay, while we may,
Beauty's a flower despis'd in decay.
Youth's the feafon, &c.
Let us drink and fport to day,'
Ours is not to morrow:
Love with youth flies fwift away,
Age is nought but forrow.
Dance and fing, time's on the wing,
Life never knows the return of the fpring,
Chorus, Let us drink, &c.
"TWAS paft twelve o'clock, in a fine fummer morning,
When all the village flept pleafantly,
Cynthia's bright beams all nature adorning,
Shall guide my fwift fteps to my lovely the,
And then my fair Flora, freight with kind wishes,
I'll fold in my arms with am'rous kiffes,
Which ferves as preludes to more folid bliffes,
Soon as the vicar has made us one.
Say what is that thing call'd light,
Which I can ne'er enjoy?
hat are the bleffings of the fight? :
O tell your poor blind boy..
You talk of wond'rous things you see
You fay the fun fhines bright,
I feel him warm; but how can he
Ere make it day or night?
My day or night myself I make,
Whene'er I fleep or play;
And could I always keep awake,.
It would be always day.
With heavy fighs I often hear
You mourn my hopeless woe:
But fure with patience I may bear
A lofs I ne'er can know.
Then let not what I cannot have:
My chear of mind destroy; Whilft thus I fing, I am a king. Although a poor blind boy..
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