Let the ambitious favour find In courts and empty noise, With silent real joys. Let fools and knaves grow rich and great, And the world think 'em wise, Whilst I lie dying at her feet, And all that world despise. Let conquering kings new trophies raise, And melt in court delights, DORSET. Come, let us now resolve at last To live and love in quiet; We'll tie the knot so very fast, That time shall ne'er un tie it. The The truest joys they seldom prove Who free from quarrels live; "Tis the most tender part of love Each other to forgive. When least I seem'd concern’d, I took No pleasure and no rest; Alas ! I loved you best. Own but the same to me, you'll find How blest will be our fate : Oh! to be happy, to be kind, Sure never is too late. Sheffield DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. From all uneasy passions free, Safe from your eyes Amidst Amidst a thousand kind desires I feel of tender fear, Such are your charms, 'Tis worth a life to die within your arms. SAEPFIELD DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, Ort on the troubled ocean's face Loud stormy winds arise ; And clouds obscure the skies. But when the tempest's rage is o'er, Soft breezes smoothe the main; The billows cease to lash the shore, And all is calm again. Not so in fond and amorous souls If tyrant love once reigns, There one eternal tempest rolls, And yields unceasing pains. $ PREPARED Prepared to rail, resolved to part, When I approach the perjured maid Why is my tongue afraid ? With the least glance a little kind Such wondrous power have Myra's charms, She calms my doubts, enslaves my mind, And all my rage disarms. Forgetful of her broken vows, When gazing on that form divine, LANDSDOWN. Come, all ye youths, whose hearts e’er bled By cruel beauty's pride; Let none his sorrows hide : 1954 But 2 But hand in hand around me move, The happiest mortal once was I, My heart no sorrows knew ; Pity the pain with which I die, But ask pot whence it grew : Yet if a tempting fair you find, That's very lovely, very kind, Tho' bright as heaven whose stamp she bears, Think of my fate, and shun her snares. OTWAY. Slow spreads the gloom my soul desires, And |