[SHERIDAN.]

( J.P. Kemble?)

in

HAD I a heart for falsehood fram'd,

I ne'er could injure you;

For though your tongue no promise claim'd
Your charms would make me true.

To you no soul shall bear deceit,

No stranger offer wrong,

But friends in all the ag'd you'll meet,

And lovers in the young.

But when they learn that you have blest
Another with your heart,

They'll bid aspiring passions rest,

And act a brother's part;

Then, lady, dread not here deceit,

Nor fear to suffer wrong,

For friends in all the ag'd you'll meet,

And lovers in the young.

L

[SHERIDAN.]

OH, had my love ne'er smil'd on me,
I ne'er had known such anguish ;
But think how false, how cruel she,
To bid me cease to languish.
To bid me hope her hand to gain,

Breathe on a flame half perish'd;
And then with cold and fix'd disdain
To kill the hope she cherish'd.

Not worse his fate, who on a wreck,
That drove as winds did blow it;
Silent had left the shatter'd deck,
To find a grave below it.

Then land was cried-no more resign'd,
He glow'd with joy to hear it;
Not worse his fate, his woe to find,

The wreck must sink ere near it.

[SHERIDAN.]

I NE'ER could

any

lustre see

In eyes that would not look on me;
I ne'er saw nectar on a lip,

But where my own did hope to sip.
Has the maid who seeks my heart
Cheeks of rose, untouch'd by art?
I will own the colour true,

When yielding blushes aid their hue.

Is her hand so soft and pure?

I must press it to be sure ;

Nor can I be certain then,
Till it grateful press again;
Must I, with attentive eye,
Watch her heaving bosom sigh?
I will do so, when I see

That heaving bosom sigh for me.

[SIR W. JONES.]

WAKE, ye nightingales, oh, wake!

Can ye, idlers, sleep so long?
Quickly this dull silence break;
Burst enraptur'd into song:
Shake your plumes, your eyes unclose,
No pretext for more repose.

Tell me not, that winter drear
Still delays your promis'd tale,
That no blossoms yet appear,

Save the snow-drop in the dale:
Tell me not the woods are bare ;-
Vain excuse! prepare, prepare.

View the hillock, view the meads:
All are verdant, all are gay;
Julia comes, and with her leads

Health, and youth, and blooming May.

When she smiles, fresh roses blow ;

Where she treads, fresh lilies grow.

Hail! ye groves of Bagley, hail,
Fear no more the chilling air :
Can your beauties ever fail?

Julia has pronounc'd you fair..
She could cheer a cavern's gloom,
She could make a desert bloom.

[GILBERT COOPER.]

DEAR Chloe what means this disdain,
Which blasts each endeavour to please?
Tho' forty, I'm free from all pain,
Save love, I am free from disease.

No Graces my mansion have fled,
No Muses have broken my lyre ;
The Loves frolic still round my bed,
And Laughter is cheer'd at my fire.

To none have I ever been cold,

All beauties in vogue I'm among; I've appetite e'en for the old,

And spirit enough for the young.