To the Hon. Miss YORK E,

ON HER MARRIAGE TO LORD ANSON.

ICTORIOUS ANSON fee returns

VICTOR

From the fubjected main !

With joy each British bofom burns,

Fearless of FRANCE and SPAIN.

Honours his grateful Sovereign's hand,

Conqueft his own bestows, Applause unfeign'd his native land,

Unenvy'd wealth her foes.

But ftill, my fon, BRITANNIA cries,
Still more thy merits claim

Thy deeds deserve a richer prize
Than titles, wealth, or fame.

Twice wafted fafe from pole to pole

Th' haft fail'd the globe around; Contains it ought can charm thy foul,

Thy fondest wishes bound?

İs

Is there a treasure worth thy care

Within th' incircling line?

Say, and I'll weary Heav'n with pray'r
To make that treasure thine.

He chofe-the gods approv'd his choice,

And paid him all in You.

CHLOE TO STREPHON,

A SONG.

OO plain, dear youth, these tell-tale eyes

My heart your own declare;

But for Heav'n's fake let it fuffice

You reign triumphant there.

Forbear your utmost pow'r to try,

Nor farther urge your sway; Prefs not for what I must deny,

For fear I fhould obey.

I

Could

Could all your arts successful prove,
Would you a maid undo?

Whose greatest failing is her love,
And that her love for you.

Say, would you use that very pow'r
You from her fondness claim,

To ruin, in one fatal hour,

A life of spotlefs fame?

Ah! ceafe, my dear, to do an ill,

Because perhaps you may;

But rather try your utmost skill

To fave me, than betray.

Be you yourself my virtue's guard,

Defend, and not pursue ;

Since 'tis a task for me too hard

To fight with love and you

A SONG.

ASON G.

EASE, SALLY, thy charms to expand,

CE

All thy arts and thy witchcraft forbear, Hide those eyes, hide that neck and that hand, And those sweet flowing treffes of hair,

Oh! torture me not, for Love's fake,

With the fmirk of those delicate lips,

With that head's dear fignificant shake,

And the tofs of the hoop and the hips.

Oh! fight still more fatal! look there

O'er her tucker what murderers peep!

So-now there's an end of my care,

I fhall never more eat, drink, or fleep.

D'you fing too? ah mischievous thought!

Touch me, touch me not there any more;

Who the devil can 'fcape being caught

In a trap that's thus baited all o'er?
VOL. I.
L

But

But why to advise fhou'd I try?

What nature ordains we must prove;

You no more can help charming, than I
Can help being charm'd, and in love.

W

A SON G.

HEN firft I fought fair CALIA's love,

And ev'ry charm was new,

I swore by all the gods above

To be for ever true.

But long in vain did I adore,

Long wept and sigh'd in vain,

She ftill protefted, vow'd, and swore,
She ne'er would eafe my pain.

At laft o'ercome the made me bleft,

And yielded all her charms;

And I forfook her, when poffeft,

And fled to others' arms.

But