Imatges de pàgina
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CHORUS.

Love's purer flames the Gods approve;
The Gods and Brutus bend to love:
Brutus for abfent Portia fighs,

And fterner Caffius melts at Junia's eyes.
What is loose love? a tranfient guft,
Spent in a fudden ftorm of luft,
A vapour fed from wild defire,
A wand'ring, felf-confuming fire.
But Hymen's kinder flames unite;
And burn for ever one;

Chafte as cold Cynthia's virgin light,
Productive as the Sun.

SEMICHORUS.

Oh source of ev'ry social tye,

United wish, and mutual joy!

What various joys on one attend,

As fon, as father, brother, husband, friend?

Whether his hoary fire he fpies,

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His heart now melts, now leaps, now burns,
With rev'rence, hope, and love.

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CHORUS.

Hence guilty joys, diftaftes, furmizes,
Hence falfe tears, deceits, disguises,
Dangers, doubts, delays, furprizes;

Fires that fcorch, yet dare not shine:

Pureft love's unwafting treasure,
Conftant faith, fair hope, long leisure,
Days of ease, and nights of pleasure :

Sacred Hymen! these are thine.

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ODE

ODE ON SOLITUDE.:

H

Appy the man whose wish and A few paternal acres bound, Content to breathe his native air,

care

In his own ground;

Whose herds with milk, whofe fields with bread,
Whofe flocks fupply him with attire,

Whose trees in fummer yield him shade,

In winter fire.

Bleft, who can unconcern'dly find,
Hours, days and years flide foft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,

Quiet by day,

Sound fleep by night; ftudy and ease,
Together mixt; fweet recreation;
And innocence, which moft does please,
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unfeen, unknown,

Thus unlamented let me die,

Steal from the world, and not a stone

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Tell where I lie.

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VOL. I.

I

The

The Dying Chriftian to his Soul.

O D E.

I.

VITA

ITAL spark of heav'nly flame!
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame:
Trembling, hoping, ling'ring, flying,
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying!
Cease, fond Nature, cease thy ftrife,
And let me languish into life.

II.

Hark! the whisper; Angels fay,

Sifter Spirit, come away.

What is this abforbs me quite ?

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Steals my fenfes, fhuts my fight, Drowns my fpirits, draws my breath? Tell me, my Soul, can this be Death?

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III.

The world recedes; it disappears!

Heav'n opens on my eyes! my ears
With founds feraphic ring:

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Lend, lend your wings! I mount! I fly!

O Grave! where is thy Victory?

O Death! where is thy Sting?

AN

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