I cou'd lie Ages at her Feet,

Adore her, careless of my Pain, With tender Vows her Rigours meet,

Defpair, Love on, and not complain. My Paffion, from all change fecure,

No Favours raife, no Frowns controuls, I any Torment can endure,

But hoping with a Crowd of Fools.

Sapho's Ode from Longinus.

By Mr. W. BOWLES.

T

I.

HE Gods are not more bleft than he,

Who fixing his glad Eyes on thee,

With thy bright Rays his Senfes chears,
And drinks with ever thirsty Ears.
The charming Mufick of thy Tongue,
Does ever hear, and ever long;

That fees with more than human Grace,

Sweet Smiles adorn thy Angel Face.

II.

But when with kinder Beams you shine,
And fo appear much more Divine,
My feeble Sense and dazl❜d Sight,
No more fupport the glorious Light,
And the fierce Torrent of Delight.
Oh! then I feel my Life decay,
My ravish'd Soul then flies away,
Then Faintnefs does my Limbs furprise,

And Darkness swims before my Eyes.

III.

Then my Tongue fails, and from my Brow The liquid Drops in filence flow,

Then wand'ring Fires run through my Blood,

And Cold binds up the stupid Flood;

All pale, and breathless then I lye,

I figh, I tremble, and I dye.

The

O

L

The Thirteenth

DE

OF THE

Fourth Book of Horace.

I.

Tee, the Gods have heard my Pray'r,

Lyce the proud, the charming, and the fair,

Lyce is old! tho' wanton ftill, and gay,

You laugh, and fing, and play.

Now Beauty fails, with Wine wou'd raise Defire,

And with your trembling Voice wou'd fan our dying

II.

In vain! for Love long fince forfook

(Fire.

(Look;

Thy snowy Hair, thy falling Teeth, and with'ring

He Chia's blooming Face

Adorns with ev'ry Grace,

Her Wit, her Eyes, her ev'ry Glance are Darts, That with refiftlefs force invade our Hearts.

Not all

III.

your Art, nor all your Dress,
(Tho' grown to a ridiculous excess,

Tho' you by Lovers Spoils made fine,
In richest Silks and Jewels shine,
And with their borrow'd Light

Surprize the dazl❜d Sight,)

Can your fled Youth recall, recall one Day Which flying Time on his fwift wings has born away

IV.

Ah! where are all thy Beauties fled !.. Where all the charms that fo adorn'd the tenderMaid! Ah! where the nameless Graces that were seen In all thy Motions, and thy Mien ! What now, oh! what is of that Lyce left, By which I once was of my Sense and of my Soul be

V.

(reft!

Of her, who with my Cynara ftrove,

And fhar'd my doubtful Love!

Yet Fate, and the laft unrelenting Hour,

Seiz'd her gay Youth, and pluck'd the springing
But angry Heav'n has referv'd thee, (Flow'.
That you with Rage might fee,

With Rage might fee your Beauties fading Glory fly,

And

your short Youth, and tyrannous Pow'r before

VI.

That your insulting Lovers might return

(you dye.

Pride for your Pride, and with retorted Scorn Glut their Revenge, and fatiate all their Pain; With cruel Pleasure, and with sharp Disdain, Might laugh, to see that Fire which once fo burn'd, Shot fuch refiftlefs Flames, to Afhes turn'd.

THE

GROVE.

A

By the Earl of Rofcommon.

H happy Grove! dark and fecure Retreat Of facred Silence, Reft's Eternal Seat; your cool and unfrequented Shade

How well

Suits with the chafte Retirements of a Maid;