Swift on the wings of eager love I fly,
Or fend my foul still swifter in a figh!
I'd then inform you of your Cælia's cares,
And try the eloquence of female tears;
Fearless I'd pass where desolation reigns,
Tread the wild wafte, or burning Libyan plains:
Or where the North his furious pinions tries,
And howling hurricanes embroil the skies!
Should all the monsters in Getulia bred

Oppose the paffage of a tender maid,

Dauntless, if Damon calls, his Cælia fpeeds
Through all the monfters that Getulia breeds!
Bold was Bonduca, and her arrows flew
Swift and unerring from the twanging yew:
By love infpir'd, I'll teach the shaft to fly,
For thee I'd conquer, or at least would die!
If o'er the dreary Caucafus you go,

Or mountains crown'd with everlasting snow,
Where through the freezing fkies in ftorms it pours,
And brightens the dull air with fhining showers,
Ev'n there with you I could fecurely reft,

And dare all cold, but in my Damon's breaft;
Or fhould you dwell beneath the sultry ray,
Where rising Phœbus ufhers-in the day,
There, there I dwell! Thou fun, exert thy fires,
Love, mighty love, a fiercer flame inspires :
Or if a pilgrim you would pay your vows,
Where Jordan's ftreams in foft mæanders flows;
I'll be a pilgrim, and my vows I'll pay
Where Jordan's ftreams in foft mæanders play :

Joy of my foul! my every wish in one!
Why must I love, when loving I'm undone ?
Sweet are the whifpers of the waving trees,
And murmuring waters, curling to the breeze:
Sweet are foft flumbers in the fhady bowers
When glowing funs infeft the fultry hours;
But not the whispers of the waving trees,
Nor murmuring waters, curling to the breeze,
Not fweet foft flumbers in the fhady bowers,
When thou art abfent whom my foul adores!
Come, let us feek fome flowery, fragrant bed!
Come, on thy bofom reft my love-fick head!
Come, drive thy flocks beneath the fhady hills,
Or foftly Aumber by the murmuring rills!
Ah no! he flies! that dear enchanting he!
Whose beauty fteals my very felf from me!

Yet wert thou wont the garland to prepare,
To crown with fragrant wreaths thy Cælia's hair :
When to the lyre fhe tun'd the vocal lays,

Thy tongue would flatter, and thine eyes speak praise :
And when smooth-gliding in the dance she mov'd,
Ask thy false bofom if it never lov'd?

And still her eye fome little luftre bears

If fwains speak truth !--though dim'd for thee with tears!
But fade each grace! fince he no longer fees

Thofe charms, for whom alone I wish to please!
But whence these fudden, fad prefaging fears,
Thefa rifing fighs, and whence thefe flowing tears?
Ah! left the trumpet's terrible alarms,

Have drawn the lover from his Cælia's charms,
To try the doubtful field, and fhine in azure arms!

}

Ah!

Ah! canft thou bear the labour of he was,
Bend the tough bow, or dar te pomter fpe
Deift, fond youth! let others gin gan,
Seek empty honour 'er the fury man,
Or fheath'd in horrid arms rufi gradiu the pian
Thee, fhepherd, thee the pizzalurane wovika,
The painted meadows, and the cryfta foms,
Claim and invite to biels then iwer auutes.
There fhady bowers and fivar frens ank,
There fountains murmur, and the heme lumies
Flowers to delight the inell, or charm the eyes)
But mourn, ye fylvar Ienes and bary uover,
Weep all Tre fountain, anguih al ye hoves !

If in a defer: Damor but apar

To Calia's eyes a defert is more fair

Than all your charms, wher Damor is not fiere'
Gods! what soft words, what sweet deufive wies
He boafts! and of thofe dear undoing inlts!
Pleas'd with our ruin, to his arms we run:
To be undone by him, who would not be undone?
Alas! I rave! ye fwelling torrents, roll

Your watery tribute o'er my love-fick foul!
To cool my heart, your waves, ye oceans, bear!
Oh! vain are all your waves, for Love is there!

But ah! what fudden thought to frenzy moves
My tortur'd foul ?---perhaps, my Damon loves!
Some fatal beauty, yielding all her charms,
Detains the lovely traitor from my arms!
Blaft her, ye fkies! let inftant vengeance feize
Thofe guilty charms, whofe crime it is to please!

}

Damon

Damon is mine!---fond maid, thy fears fubdue!
Am I not jealous? and my charmer true?
O! heaven! from jealousy my bosom save!
Cruel as death, infatiate as the grave!

Ye powers! of all the ills that ever curst
Our fex, fure man, diffembling man, is worst!
Like froward boys, awhile in wanton play,
He sports with hearts, then throws the toys away :
With fpecious wiles weak woman he assails,
He fwears, weeps, smiles, he flatters, and prevails :
Then in the moment when the maid believes,
The perjur'd traitor triumphs, scorns, and leaves:
How oft my Damon fwore, th' all-feeing fun
Should change his course, and rivers backward run,
Ere his fond heart fhould range, or faithlefs prove
To the bright object of his fstedfaft love?
O! instant change thy course, all-seeing fun!
Damon is falfe! ye rivers, backward run!
But die, O! wretched Cælia, die! in vain
Thus to the fields and floods you breathe
The tear is fruitless, and the tender figh,
And life a load !---forfaken Cælia die!
Fly fwifter, time! O! speed the joyful hour!
Receive me, grave !---then I shall love no more!
Ah! wretched maid, fo fad a cure to prove!
Ah! wretched maid, to fly to death from love!
Yet oh! when this poor frame no more fhall live,
Be happy, Damon! may not Damon grieve!
Ah me! I'm vain! my death can not appear
Worth the vast price of but a single tear.

your pain!

Forlorn,

Forlorn, abandon'd to the rocks I go

But they have learn'd new cruelties of you!
Alone, relenting Echo with me mourns,

And faint with grief she scarce my fighs returns!
Then fighs adieu! ye nobler paffions rise !
Be wife, fond maid !---but who in love is wife?
I rage, I rail, th' extremes of anger prove,
Nay, almost hate !---then love thee beyond love!
Pity, kind heaven, and right an injur'd maid!
Yet, oh! yet, fpare the dear deceiver's head!
If from the fultry funs at noontide hours
He feeks the covert of the breezy bowers,
Awake, O South, and where my charmer lies,
Bid roses bloom, and beds of fragrance rife:
Gently, O gently round in whispers fly,
Sigh to his fighs, and fan the glowing sky!
If o'er the waves he cuts the liquid way,
Be ftill, ye waves, or round his veffel play!
And you, ye winds, confine each ruder breath,
Lie hufh'd in filence, and be calm as death!
But if he stay detain'd by adverse gales,

My fighs fhall drive the ship, and fill the flagging fails.

TRANS