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"Fear not," the cruel false one said,
"This offering is to Cælia made,
My mother's empire I disdain,
And kneel to Cælia's sovereign name."

I breath'd the sigh of soft desire,

But found my breast that moment smart,
For, whilst I strove to fan one fire,

I lit another in my heart.

Monthly Miscellany.

SONG.

FAREWELL the delights, the soft moments of joy,
When charm'd with her graces, I dwelt on her praise;
Her smiles have undone me, her beauties destroy,
And kill the delight that true friendship could raise :
As a friend I admir'd, as a friend I approv'd,
But knew not, alas! till too late, that I lov'd.

Be hush'd, my fond bosom, the conflict is o'er,
Let pity, and friendship, assuage thy sad sighs;
Soft pity inspires the maid I adore,

The friend must forgive the fond lover that dies.
As a friend I admir'd, as a friend I approv'd,
But knew not, alas! till too late, that I lov'd.

From a MS.

SONG.

Je pense a vous, where e'er I stray, While sorrow marks my lonely way, The sports of spring, unmov'd, I view, Alone I sigh, and think of you.

Je pense a vous.

Ah! why in absence do I mourn? Why vainly wish for your return? While transient pleasures you pursue, Alone I sigh, and think of you.

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Come, then, to charm our native plain,
Return to bless a constant swain,

With love regard a love so true,

Oh! think of him, who thinks of you.

Je pense a vous.

WITH A PRESENT OF A KNIFE.

A KNIFI

KNIFE, dear girl, cuts love, they say;

Mere modish love, perhaps it may :

For any tool of any kind

Can separate what ne'er was join'd.

The knife that cuts our love in two,
Will have much tougher work to do:
Must cut your softness, worth, and spirit,
Down to the vulgar size of merit!

To level with modern taste,
you

Must cut a world of sense to waste;
And from your single beauty's store,
Clip what would dizen out a score.
The self-same blade from me must sever,
Sensation, judgment, sight, for ever;
All mem'ry of endearments past,
All hope of comforts long to last,
All that makes fourteen years with you,
A summer;-and a short one too!
All that affection feels and fears;
When hours, without you, seem like years.
Till that be done, (and I'd as soon
Believe this knife will chip the moon)
Accept my present undeterr'd,
And leave their proverbs to be heard.
If in a kiss-delicious treat!
Your lips acknowledge the receipt;
Love, fond of such substantial fare,
And proud to play the glutton there,
All thoughts of cutting will disdain,
Save only-cut and come again.

Anonymous.

ELOISA.

WHILE fondly gazing on my much-lov'd fair, Silent I mark each sweet seducive grace; Dwell raptur'd on her form, her mien, her air, And view the charms of Eloisa's face.

How blest I trace the mild with-drawing eye, Where native wit and timid feeling reign; Those cheeks, that with the maiden rose-bud vie, And heaven's own azure swelling ev'ry vein.

And still superior to each outward charm,
Her sense and temper, purer bliss impart;
And whilst the graces every passion warm,
The winning virtues fix the yielding heart.

O'er my dark fate should brighter prospects smile,
And fortune to my vows propitious prove;
I'll drop, my fair, this mask of prudent guile,
And what I now term friendship, plead as love.
From a Ladies Memorandum Book.

MORNING.

COME, come, my fair one, let us stray,
And taste the sweets of early day;
Young health, the rosy child of morn,
With blushes shall thy cheeks adorn.

Look! look! around, behold it's day!
See on yon lawn the lambkins play!
Now ev'ry linnet of the grove
Charms the list'ning swain to love.

Wak'd by the gentle voice of love,
Arise, my fair, arise and prove
The dear delight fond lovers know,
The best of blessings here below.

NOON.

HUSH every breeze, let nothing move,
My Delia sings, and sings of love;
Around the winning graces wait,

And calm contentment guards the seat.

In the sweet shade, my Delia, stay,

You'll scorch those charms, more sweet than May;

The sun now rages in his noon,

'Tis pity, sure, to part so soon.

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