But oh her thoughts on others ran,
And that you think a hard thing?
Perhaps she fancied you the man ;
And what care I one farthing?

You think she's false, I'm sure she's kind,
I take her body, you her mind,
Who has the better bargain?

[CHESTERFIELD.]

MISTAKEN fair, lay Sherlock by,
His doctrine is deceiving,
For while he teaches us to die,
He cheats us of our living.

To die's a lesson we shall know
Too soon without a master;

Then let us only study now
How we may live the faster.

To live's to love, to bless, be blest
With mutual inclination;

Share then my ardour in your breast,

And kindly meet my passion.

But if thus blest I may not live,
And pity you deny,

To me at least your Sherlock give,
"Tis I must learn to die.

[LANSDOWNE.]

CHLOE's the wonder of her sex,
"Tis well her heart is tender;
How might such killing eyes perplex,
With virtue to defend her!

But nature graciously inclin'd
With liberal hand to please us,
Has to her boundless beauty join'd
A boundless bent to ease us.

[LISLE.]

WH

HEN Orpheus went down to the regions be

Which men are forbidden to see ;

He tun'd up his lyre, as old histories show,
To set his Eurydice free.

[low,

All hell was astonish'd a person so wise
Should rashly endanger his life,

And venture so far; but how vast their surprise
When they heard that he came for his wife!

To find out a punishment due for his fault
Old Pluto long puzzled his brain,

But hell had not torments sufficient, he thought,
So he gave him his wife back again.

But pity succeeding soon vanquish'd his heart,
And pleas'd with his playing so well,
He took her again in reward of his art,
Such merit had music in hell.

[PULTENEY, EARL OF BATH.]

VAIN are the charms of white and red,
Which paint the blooming fair;
Give me the nymph whose snow is spread
Not o'er her face, but hair.

Of smoother cheeks the winning grace
With open force defies;

But in the wrinkles of her face

Cupid in ambush lies.

If naked eyes set hearts on blaze,
And amorous warmth inspire;

Thro' glass, who darts her pointed rays,
Lights up a fiercer fire.

Nor rivals, nor the train of years,
My peace or bliss destroy;
Alive, she gives no jealous fears,
And dead, she crowns my joy.

CHLOE brisk and gay appears,
On purpose to invite ;

Yet, when I press her, she, in tears
Denies her sole delight:

Whilst Celia, seeming shy and coy,
To all her favours grants;
And secretly receives that joy,
Which others think she wants.

I would, but fear I never shall,
With either fair agree;
For Celia will be kind to all,

But Chloe won't to me.

OH! turn away those cruel eyes,
The stars of my undoing;
Or death in such a bright disguise
May tempt a second wooing.

Punish their blindly impious pride
Who dare contemn thy glory;

It was my fall that deified

Thy name, and seal'd thy story.

Yet no new suff'rings can prepare
A higher praise to crown thee;
Tho' my first death proclaim thee fair,
My second will dethrone thee.

Lovers will doubt thou canst entice
No other for thy fuel;

And if thou burn one victim twice,

Think thee both poor and cruel.