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LOVE ELEGY.

BY MR. SMALLET.

I.

Here now are all my flatt'ring dreams of joy!

W MONIMIA, my reft;

MONIMIA, give my foul her wonted rest ;Since first thy beauty fix'd my roving eye, Heart-gnawing cares corrode my pensive breast!

II.

Let happy lovers fly where pleasures call,
With feftive fongs beguile the fleeting hour;
Lead Beauty thro' the mazes of the ball,
Or prefs her wanton in love's rofeate bow'r.

III.

For me, no more I'll range th' empurpled mead, Where shepherds pipe, and virgins dance around? Nor wander thro' the woodbine's fragrant fhade, To hear the mufic of the grove resound.

IV,

I'll feek fome lonely church, or dreary hall, Where fancy paints the glimm'ring taper blue, Where damps hang mould'ring on the ivy'd wall, And sheeted ghosts drink up the midnight dew;

V.

There leagu'd with hopeless anguish and despair,
Awhile in filence o'er my fate repine;

Then, with a long farewell to love and care,
To kindred duft my weary limbs confign.

VI.

Wilt thou, MONIMIA, fhed a gracious tear
On the cold grave where all my forrows rest?
Wilt thou ftrew flow'rs, applaud my love fincere,
And bid the turf lie light upon my breast!

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Hail to thy living light,

Ambrofial morn! all hail thy rofeat ray:
That bids gay nature all her charms display
In varied beauty bright;

That bids each dewy-spangled flowret rise,
And dart around its vermeil dies;

Bids filver lustre grace yon fparkling tide,

That winding warbles down the mountain's fide.

II.

Away, ye goblins all,

Wont the bewilder'd traveller to daunt ;
Whofe vagrant feet have trac'd your fecret haunt
Befide fome lonely wall,

Or shatter'd ruin of a mofs-grown tow'r,
Where, at pale midnight's ftilleft hour,
Thro' each rough chink the folemn orb of night
Pours momentary gleams of trembling light.

III.

Away, ye elves, away:

Shrink at ambrofial morning's living ray;
That living ray, whose pow'r benign
Unfolds the scene of glory to our eye,
Where, thron'd in artless majesty,

The cherub Beauty fits on Nature's rustic shrine.

O 2

CHORUS II.

1

ODE ON CONTENT.

ATHELWOLD, THE HUSBAND OF ELFRIDA,

1S SUPPOSED TO BE

I.

ABSENT.

The turtle tells her plaintive tale,
Sequefter'd in fome fhadowy vale ;
The lark in radiant æther flotes,
And fwells his wild extatic notes:
Meanwhile on yonder hawthorn fpray
The Linnet wakes her temp'rate lay;
She haunts no folitary fhade,

She flutters o'er no fun-fhine mead,
No love-lorn griefs deprefs her fong,
No raptures lift it loudly high,

But foft fhe trills, amid th' aerial throng,
Smooth simple strains of sob'reft harmony.

II.

Sweet bird! like thine our lay fhall flow,

Nor gaily loud, nor fadly flow;

For to thy note fedate, and clear,

CONTENT ftill lends a lift'ning ear.
Reclin'd this moffy bank along,
Oft has fhe heard thy easy song:

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