[A. BRADLEY.] GENTLY touch the warbling lyre, On the mossy bank she lies, SUSANNA. Ask if yon damask rose be sweet, Say, will the vulture leave his prey, The spoils of war let heroes share, WOULD [MILTON.] D you taste the noontide air, To yon fragrant bower repair, Where woven with the poplar bough, Down each side a river flows, Round, the languid herds and sheep All alone-and in her arms Your breast may beat to love's alarms, Ah, how gay is young desire ! Sighs, which are from lovers blown, Cure, like trickling balm, their smart ; Lovers, when they lose their breath, Bleed away in easy death. Love and time with rev'rence use, Which, in youth, sincere they send, Love, like spring-tides full and high, Till they quite shrink in again; 'Tis but rain, and runs`not clear. CONSTANCY. [ROCHESTER.] I CANNOT change, as others do, Since that poor swain that sighs for you, No, Phillis, no, your heart to move And to revenge my slighted love, Will still love on and die. When, kill'd with grief, Amyntas lies; And you to mind shall call, The sighs that now unpitied rise, The tears that vainly fall : That welcome hour that ends this smart, Will then begin your pain; For such a faithful tender heart Can never break in vain. [SIR JOHN SUCKLING.] I PRITHEE send me back my heart, Since I cannot have thine : For if from yours you will not part, Yet, now I think on't, let it lie, Why should two hearts in one breast lic, And yet not lodge together? Oh Love! where is thy sympathy, If thus our breasts thou sever? |