ON

A BEAUTIFUL EAST-INDIAN.

Ir all the daughters of the sun

Have loving looks and hearts of flame, Go, tell me not that she is one

'Twas from the wintry moon she came !

And yet, sweet eye! thou ne'er wert given
To kindle what thou dost not feel;
And yet, thou flushing lip-by heaven!
Thou ne'er wert made for DIAN's seal!

Oh! for a sunbeam, rich and warm
From thy own Ganges' fervid haunts,
To light thee up, thou lovely form!
To all my soul adores and wants:

I I

To see thee burn—to faint and sigh Upon that bosom as it blaz'd,

And be, myself, the first to die

Amid the flame myself had rais'd!

MISS

ΤΟ

WITH Woman's form and woman's tricks

So much of man you seem to mix,

I

One knows not where to take you:

pray you, if 'tis not too far,

Go, ask of Nature which you are,
Or what she meant to make you.

Yet stay-you need not take the pains→→ With neither beauty, youth nor brains For man or maid's desiring;

Pert as female, fool as male,

As boy too green, as girl too stale—

The thing's not worth enquiring!

ΤΟ

ON HER ASKING ME TO ADDRESS A POEM TO HER.

SINE VENERE FRIGET APOLLO.

Egid. Menagius.

How can I sing of fragrant sighs.

I ne'er have felt from thee? How can I sing of smiling eyes, That ne'er have smil'd on me?

The heart, 'tis true, may fancy much,
But, oh! 'tis cold and seeming-
One moment's real, rapturous touch
Is worth an age of dreaming!

Think'st thou, when JULIA's lip and breast Inspir'd my youthful tongue,

I coldly spoke of lips unprest,

Nor felt the heaven I sung?

No, no, the spell, that warm'd so long,
Was still my JULIA's kiss,

And still the girl was paid, in song,
What she had giv'n, in bliss!

Then beam one burning smile on me,
And I will sing those eyes;

Let me but feel a breath from thee,
And I will praise thy sighs.

That rosy mouth alone can bring

What makes the bard divine

Oh Lady! how my lip would sing,
If once 'twere prest to thine!