Sighs which are from lovers blown
Do but gently heave the heart:
E'en the tears they shed alone

Cure like trickling balm, their smart.
Lovers, when they lose their breath,
Bleed away in easy death.

Love and Time with reverence use,
Treat them like a parting friend;
Nor the golden gifts refuse

Which in youth sincere they send:
For each year their price is more,
And they less simple than before.

Love, like spring tides full and high,
Swells in every youthful vein;
But each tide does less supply,

Till they quite shrink in again.

If a flow in age appear,

'Tis but rain, and runs not clear.

The concluding lines of the first stanza, though possibly unknown to Robert Burns, resemble very closely his much admired lines

"Tis better for thee despairing,

Than aught in the world beside, Jessie."

FAIR, SWEET, AND YOUNG.

JOHN DRYDEN.

FAIR, Sweet, and young, receive a prize
Reserved for your victorious eyes:
From crowds, whom at your feet you see,
O pity and distinguish me!

As I, from thousand beauties more
Distingish you, and only you adore.

Your face for conquest was designed;
Your every motion charms my mind;
Angels when you your silence break,
Forget their hymns to hear you speak;
But when at once they hear and view,
Are loth to mount, and long to stay with you.

No graces can your form improve,
But all are lost unless you love;
While that sweet passion you disdain,
Your veil and beauty are in vain :
In pity then prevent my fate,
For after dying all reprieve's too late.

YE HAPPY SWAINS.

SIR GEORGE ETHEREGE, born about 1536, died 1683.

YE happy swains, whose hearts are free
From love's imperial chain,

Take warning and be taught by me
To avoid the enchanting pain;
Fatal, the wolves to trembling flocks,
Fierce winds to blossoms prove,
To careless seamen, hidden rocks,
To human quiet, love.

Fly the fair sex if bliss you prize,

The snake's beneath the flower;
Whoever gazed on beauteous eyes
That tasted quiet more?

How faithless is the lovers' joy!
How constant is their care!
The kind with falsehood to destroy,
The cruel with despair."

CEASE ANXIOUS WORLD.

SIR GEORGE ETHEREGE.

CEASE anxious world, your fruitless pain, To grasp forbidden store;

Your sturdy labours shall prove vain,

Your alchemy unblest;

Whilst seeds of far more precious ore

Are ripen'd in my breast.

My breast the forge of happier love,
Where my Lucinda lives;

And the rich stock does so improve,
As she her art employs,

That every smile and touch she gives
Turns all to golden joys.

Since thence we can such treasures raise,
Let's no expense refuse;

In love let's lay out all our days;
How can we e'er be poor,
When every blessing that we use
Begets a thousand more?

REASONS FOR CONSTANCY.

SIR CHARLES SEDLEY.

NOT, Celia, that I juster am

Or better than the rest;

For I would change each hour, like them, Were not my heart at rest.

For I am tied to very thee
By every thought I have:
Thy face I only came to see,
Thy heart I only crave.

All that in woman is ador'd,
In thy dear self I find;
For the whole sex can but afford
The handsome and the kind.

Why then should I seek further store,
And still make love anew?
When change itself can give no more,
'Tis easy to be true.

THE DEPOSITION.

THOMAS STANLEY, born 1664, died 1678.

THOUGH when I lov'd thee, thou wert fair,
Thou art no longer so:

Those glories, all the pride they wear
Unto opinion owe:

Beauties, like stars, in borrowed lustre shine,
And 'twas my love that gave thee thine.

The flames that dwelt within thine eye
Do now with mine expire;

Thy brightest graces fade and die

At once with my desire.

Love's fires thus mutual influence return;

Thine cease to shine when mine to burn.

Then, proud Celinda, hope no more,
To be implor'd or woo'd;

Since by thy scorn thou dost restore
The wealth my love bestow'd:
And thy despis'd disdain too late shall fina
That none are fair but who are kind.

THE LOVER'S VOW.

BISHOP ATTERBURY, born 1662, died 1732.

FAIR Sylvia, cease to blame my youth
For having lov'd before;

For men, till they have learn'd the truth,
Strange deities adore.