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Full in the centre of the grove,
In yon pavilion made for love,
Where woodbines, roses, jessamines,
Amaranths, and eglantines,
With intermingling sweets have wove
The party-colour'd gay alcove.


Your highness, Sir, as I presume,
Has chose the most convenient gloom;
There's not a spot in all the park
Has trees so thick, and shades so dark.


Mean while with due attention wait
To guard the bower, and watch the gate ;
Let neither envy, grief, nor fear,
Nor love-sick jealousy appear ;
Nor senseless pomp, nor noise intrude
On this delicious solitude ;
But pleasure reign through all the grove,
And all be peace, and all be love.

* the pleasing, pleasing anguish,
When we love, and when we languish!

Wishes rising!
Thoughts surprising !
Pleasure courting!
Charms transporting!
Fancy viewing,

Joys ensuing !
O the pleasing, pleasing anguish!"

[Exeunt. VOL. y.




A Pavilion in the middle of the Bow!?

King and Rosamond.


THUS let my weary soul forget

Restless glory, martial strife, Anxious pleasures of the great, And gilded cares of life.

ROSAMOND. Thus let me lose, in rising joys,

Fierce impatience, fond desires, Absence that flatt'ring hope destroys, And life-consuming fires.

KING, Not the loud British shout that warms The warrior's heart, nor clashing arms, Nor fields with hostile banners strew'd, Nor life on prostrate Gauls bestow'd, Give half the joys that fill


breast, While with my Rosamond I'm blest.


My Henry is my soul's delight,
My wish by day, my dream by night.
'Tis not in language to impart
The secret meltings of my heart,
While I my conqueror survey,
And look my very soul away.


O may the present bliss endure,
From fortune, time, and death secure!


may the present bliss endure !"

My eye could ever gaze, my ear
Those gentle sounds could ever hear:
But oh! with noon-day heats opprest,
My aching temples call for rest!
In yon cool grotto's artful night
Refreshing slumbers I'll invite,
Then seek again my absent fair,
With all the love a heart can bear. [Exit King,

From whence this sad presaging fear,
This sudden sigh, this falling tear?
Oft in my silent dreams by night

With such a look I've seen him fly,

Wafted by angels to the sky,
And lost in endless tracts of light;
While I, abandon'd and forlorn,
To dark and dismal deserts borne,
Through lonely wilds have seem'd to stray,
A long, uncomfortable way.

They're phantoms all ; I'll think no more :
My life has endless joys in store.
Farewell sorrow, farewell fear,
They're phantoms all! my Henry's here.”


A Postern gate of the Bower,

Grideline and Page.

My stomach swells with secret spite,
To see my fickle, faithless knight,
With upright gesture, goodly mien,
Face of olive, coat of green,
That charm'd the ladies long ago,
So little his own worth to know,
On a mere girl his thoughts to place,
With dimpled cheeks and baby face;
A child! a chit! that was not born,
When I did town and court adorn.


Can any man prefer fifteen
To venerable Grideline ?

He does, my child ; or tell me why
With weeping eyes so oft I spy
His whiskers curl'd, and shoe-strings tyd,
A new Toledo by his side
In shoulder-belt so trimly plac'd,
With band so nicely smooth'd and lac'd ?


If Rosamond his garb has view'd,
The knight is false, the nymph subdu'd.

My anxious boding heart divines
His falsehood by a thousand signs ;
Oft o'er the lonely rocks he walks,
And to the foolish Echo talks ;
Oft in the glass he rolls his eye,
But turns and frowns if I am by ;

Then my fond easy heart beguiles, And thinks of Rosamond, and smiles.

PAGE. Well may you feel these soft alarms, She has a heart


And he has charms.

Your fears are too just

Too plainly I've proy'd

BOTH. “ He loves and is lovod.”

GRIDELINE. « O merciless fate!


« Deplorable state !


“ To die


« To be slain


“ By a barbarous swain,

BOTH " That laughs at your pain.”

GRIDELINE. How should I act ? canst thou advise?


Open the gate,


you are wise ; 1, in an unsuspected hour, May catch them dallying in the bower, Perhaps their loose amours prevent, And keep Sir Trusty innocent.

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