II. Such is the malice of your fate, That makes you old fo foon; Your pleasure ever comes too late, How early e'er begun. III. Think what a wretched thing is she, Then if, to make your ruin more, TO CORIN NA. A SON G. I. WHAT cruel pains Corinna takes, To force that harmlefs frown; When not one charm her face forfakes. III. Poor feeble tyrant! who in vain IV. The fcorn fhe bears fo helpless proves, That much she fears (but more she loves) LOVE AND LIFE. A S O N G. I. ALL my paft life is mine no more, The flying hours are gone: Like tranfitory dreams given o'er, II. The time that is to come is not; How can it then be mine? And that, as fast as it is got, III. Then III. Then talk not of inconftancy, This live-long minute true to thee, A SON G. I. WH WHILE on those lovely looks I gaze, In raptures of a bless'd amaze, His pleasing happy ruin ; "Tis not for pity that I move; His fate is too afpiring, Whose heart, broke with a load of love, But if this murder you'd forego, A SONG. T A SONG. I. O this moment a rebel, I throw down my arms, Great Love, at first fight of Olinda's bright charms: Made proud and secure by such forces as these, You may now play the tyrant as foon as you please. II. When innocence, beauty, and wit, do confpire defire ; Why should I decline what I cannot avoid, III. Her innocence cannot contrive to undo me, Her beauty 's inclin'd, or why fhould it purfue me? And wit has to pleasure been ever a friend; Then what room for defpair, fince delight is Love's end? IV. There can be no danger in sweetness and youth, V. 'Tis more to maintain, than it was to furprize, VI. Too VI. Too bright is my goddefs, her temple too weak: UPON HIS LEAVING HIS MISTRESS. I. TIS not that I am weary grown Of being yours, and yours alone : But with what face can I incline To damn you to be only mine: You, whom fome kinder power did fashion, The joy at least of a whole nation? 11. Let meaner spirits of your fex, With humble aims their thoughts perplex: } } UPON |