[MRS. BARBAULD.]

WHEN
HEN first upon your tender cheek
I saw the morn of beauty break

With mild and chearing beam,
I bow'd before your infant shrine,
The earliest sighs you had were mine,
And you my darling theme.

I saw you in that opening morn
For beauty's boundless empire born,
And first confess'd your sway;
And ere your thoughts, devoid of art,
Could learn the value of a heart,
I gave my heart away.

I watch'd the dawn of every grace,
And gaz'd apon that angel face,
While yet 'twas safe to gaze;
And fondly blest each rising charm,
Nor thought such innocence could harm
The peace of future days.

But now despotic o'er the plains
The awful noon of beauty reigns,

And kneeling crowds adore;

These charms arise too fiercely bright, Danger and death attend the sight, And I must hope no more.

Thus to the rising God of day
Their early vows the Persians pay,
And bless the spreading fire;
Whose glowing chariot mounting soon
Pours on their heads the burning noon,
They sicken and expire.

[CHARLES DRYDEN.]

As Ariana young and fair

By night the starry choir did tell,
She found in Cassiopeia's chair

One beauteous light the rest excel :
This happy star unseen before,

Perhaps was kindled from her eyes, And made for mortals to adore

A new-born glory in the skies.

Or if within the sphere it grew,
Before she gaz'd, the lamp was dim ;
But from her eyes the sparkles flew

That gave new lustre to the gem: Bright omen! what dost thou portend, Thou threat'ning beauty of the sky; What great, what happy monarch's end? For sure by thee 'tis sweet to die.

Whether to thy foreboding fire
We owe the crescent in decay;
Or must the mighty Gaul expire,
A victim to thy fatal ray?
Such a presage will late be shewn

Before the world in ashes lies ;-
But if less ruin will atone,

Let Strephon's only fate suffice.

WHEN first I saw Lucinda's face,

And view'd the dazzling glories there, She seem'd of a diviner race,

Than that which nature planted here.

With sacred homage down I feel,

Wond'ring whence such a form could spring; Tell me, I cried, fair vision, tell

The dread commands from heaven you bring.

For if past sins may be forgiven,

By this bright evidence I know
The careful Gods have made a heaven,
That made such angels for it too.

[WALLER.]

CHLORIS, yourself you so excel,

When you vouchsafe to breathe my thought, That like a spirit, with this spell

Of my own teaching, I am caught.

The eagle's fate and mine are one,

Which on the shaft that made him die

Espied a feather of his own,

Wherewith he used to soar so high.

Had Echo with so sweet a grace
Narcissus' loud complaints return'd,
Not for reflection of his face,

But of his voice, the boy had burn'd.

[MRS. TAYLOR.]

STREPHON has fashion, wit and youth
With all things else that please;
He nothing wants but love and truth
To ruin me with ease:

But he is flint, and bears the art
To kindle strong desire;

His pow'r inflames another's heart,
Yet he ne'er feels the fire.

O! how it does my soul perplex,
When I his charms recall,
To think he should despise the sex,
Or worse, should love 'em all.
My wearied heart, like Noah's dove,
Thus seeks in vain for rest;
Finding no hope to fix its love,
Returns into my breast.

AT

T Cynthia's feet I sigh'd, I pray'd, And wept yet all the while The cruel unrelenting maid Scarce paid me with a smile.