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Young Cloe, bent on catching Loves,

Such nets had learn’d to frame,
That none, in all our vales and groves,

Ere caught so much small game:
While gentle Sue, less given to roam,

When Cloe's nets were taking
These flights of birds, sat still at home,
One small, neat Love-cage making.

Come, listen, maids, etc.


Much Cloe laugh'd at Susan's task ;

But mark how things went on :
These light-caught Loves, ere you could ask

Their name and age, were gone!
So weak


Cloe's nets were wove, That, though she charm'd into them New game each hour, the youngest Love Was able to break through them.

Come, listen, maids, etc.


Meanwhile, young Sue, whose cage was wrought

Of bars too strong to sever,

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One Love with golden pinions caught,

And caged him there for ever ; Instructing, thereby, all coquettes,

Whate'er their looks or ages, That, though 'tis pleasant weaving Nets,

'Tis wiser to make Cages.
Thus, maidens, thus do I beguile

The task your fingers ply:-
May all who hear, like Susan smile,

Ah! not like Cloe sigh!

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When through the Piazzetta

Night breathes her cool air,
Then, dearest Ninetta,

I'll come to thee there.
Beneath thy mask shrouded,

I'll know thee afar,
As Love knows, though clouded,

His own Evening Star.

In garb, then, resembling

Some gay gondolier,
I'll whisper thee, trembling,

" Our bark, love, is near:
“ Now, now, while there hover

66 Those clouds o'er the moon,
66 "Twill wast thee safe over

" Yon silent Lagoon."


Sicilian Air.

Go, now, and dream o'er that joy in thy slumber-
Moments so sweet again ne'er shalt thou number.
Of Pain's bitter draught the flavour never flies,
While Pleasure's scarce touches the lip ere it dies !

II. That moon, which lung o'er your parting, so splendid, Often will shine again, bright as she then didBut, ah! never more will the beam she saw burn In those happy eyes at your meeting return.


Neapolitan Air.


Take hence the bowl; though beaming

Brightly as bowl e'er shone, Oh! it but sets me dreaming

Of days, of nights now gone.
There, in its clear reflection,

As in a wizard's glass,
Lost hopes and dead affection,

Like shades, before me pass.


Each cup

I drain brings hither Some friend who once sat byBright lips, too bright to wither,

Warm hearts, too warm to die! Till, as the dream comes o'er me

of those long vanish'd years, Then, then the


before me Seems turning all to tears.


Venetian Air.

FAREWELL, Theresa! that cloud which over

Yon moon this moment gathering we see,
Shall scarce from her


orb have pass’d, ere thy lover Swift o'er the wide wave shall wander from thee.


Long, like that dim cloud, I've hung around thee,

Dark’ning thy prospects, sadd’ning thy brow; With gay heart, Theresa, and bright cheek I found thee;

Oh! think how changed, love, how changed art thou

now !


But here I free thee : like one awaking

From fearful slumber, this dream thou'lt tell ; The bright moon her spell too is breaking,

Past are the dark clouds; Theresa, oh farewell !

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