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Yet, your kind heavenly Father bends his eye
On the least wing, that fits along the sky.
To him they sing, when Spring renews the plain,
To him they cry, in Winter's pinching reign;
Nor is their music nor their plaint in vain:
He hears the gay, and the distressful call,
And with unfparing bounty fills them all.

Observe the rising lily's snowy grace,
Observe the various vegetable race;
They neither toil, nor spin, but careless grow,
Yet see how warm they blush! how bright they glow!
What regal vestments can with them compare!
What king so shining! or what queen so fair!

If, ceaseless, thus the fowls of heaven he feeds,
If o'er the fields such lucid robes he spreads;
Will he not care for you, ye faithless, fay?
Is he unwise? or, are ye less than they?

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NE day the God of fond desire,

On mischief bent, to Damon said, Why not disclose your tender fire, · Not own it to the lovely maid?

The shepherd mark'd his treacherous art,

And, softly sighing, thus reply'd: 'Tis true you have subdu'd my heart,

But shall not triumph o'er my pride.

The slave in private only bears

Your bondage, who his love conceals; But when his passion he declares,

You drag him at your chariot-wheels.

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L ARD is the fate of him who loves, 1. Yet dares not tell his trembling pain, But to the sympathetic groves,

But to the lonely listening plain.

Oh! when she blesses next your shade,

Oh! when her footsteps next are seen In flowery tracks along the mead,

In fresher mazes 'o'er the green, Vol. I.

.T.

Ye gentle spirits of the vale,

To whom the tears of love are dear, From dying lilies wafta gale,

And sigh my sorrows in her ear.

Oh tell her what she cannot blame,

Tho'fear my tongue must ever bind; Oh tell her that my virtuous flame

Is as her spotless foul refin’d.

Not her own guardian angel eyes

With chaster tenderness his care, Not purer her own wishes rise,

Not holier her own sighs in prayer.

But if, at first, her virgin fear

Should start at love's suspected name, With that of friendship footh her ear

True love and friendship are the same.

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TINLESS with my Amanda blest,

In vain I twine the woodbine bower; Unless to deck her sweeter breast,

In vain I rear the breathing flower:

Awaken'd by the genial year,

In vain the birds around me fing; In vain the freshening fields appear:

Without my love there is no spring.

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TOR ever, Fortune, wilt thou prove

An unrelenting foe to love,
And when we meet a mutual heart,
Come in between, and bid us part:

Bid us sigh on from day to day,
And wish, and wish the foul away;
Till youth and genial years are flown,
And all the life of life is gone?

But busy busy still art thou,
To bind the loveless joyless vow,
The heart from pleasure to delude,
To join the gentle to the rude,
For once, O Fortune, hear my prayer,
And I absolve thy future care;
All other blessings I resign,
Make but the dear Amanda mine.

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COME, gentle God of soft desire,

Come and possess my happy breast, Not fury-like in flames and fire,

Or frantic folly's wildness drest;

But come in friendship’s angel-guise:

Yet dearer thou than friendship art,
More tender fpirit in thy eyes,
More sweet emotions at the heart,

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O come with goodness in thy train,

With peace and pleasure void of storm, And wouldst thou me for ever gain,

Put on Amanda's winning form.

O DE.

Nightingale, best poet of the grove,

That plaintive strain can ne'er belong to thee, Bleft in the full possession of thy love:

O lend that strain, fweet Nightingale, to me!

'Tis mine, alas! to mourn my wretched fate;

I love a maid who all my bosom charms, Yet lose my days without this lovely mate;

Inhuman Fortune keeps her from my arms.

You, happy birds! by Nature's simple laws

Lead your soft lives, fustain'd by Nature's fare; You dwell wherever roving fancy draws,

And love and song is all your pleasing care:

But we, vain slaves of intrest and of pride,

Dare not be bleft, lest envious tongues should blame: And hence in vain I languish for my bride;

O mourn with me, sweet bird, my hapless flame.

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