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WHE

I.
Here now are all my flatt'ring dreams of joy!

MONIMIA, give my soul her wonted reft ;-
Since first thy beauty fix'd my roving eye,
Heart-gnawing cares corrode my pensive breaft!

II.
Let happy lovers fly where pleasures call,
With festive songs beguile the fleeting hour ;
Lead Beauty thro' the mazes of the ball,
Or press her wanton in love's roseate bow'r.

III.
For me, no more I'll range th’empurpled mead,
Where shepherds pipe, and virgins dance around?
Nor wander thro' the woodbine’s fragrant shade,
To hear the music of the grove resound.

IV. I'll seek fome lonely church, or dreary hall, Where fancy paints the glimm'ring taper blue, Where damps hang mould'ring on the ivy'd wall, And sheeted ghosts drink up the midnight dew;

V.

There leagu'd with hopeless anguish and despair,
Awhile in silence o'er my fate repine;
Then, with a long farewell to love and care,
To kindred duft my weary limbs consign.

VI.
Wilt thou, MONIMIA, shed a gracious tear
On the cold

grave
where all

my

forrows rest? Wilt thou strew flow'rs, applaud my love fincere, And bid the turf lie light upon my

breast !

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I.
Hail to thy living light,
Ambrosial morn! all hail thy roseat ray:
That bids gay nature all her charms display

In varied beauty bright;
That bids each dewy-spangled flowret rise,

And dart around its vermeil dies;
Bids silver lustre grace yon sparkling tide,
That winding warbles down the mountain's side.

II.
Away, ye goblins all,
Wont the bewilder'd traveller to daunt;
Whose vagrant feet have trac'd your secret haunt

Beside some lonely wall,
Or shatter'd ruin of a moss-grown tow'r,

Where, at pale midnight's stillest hour, Thro' each rough chink the solemn orb of night Pours momentary gleams of trembling light.

III.
Away, ye elves, away :
Shrink at ambrofial morning's living ray;

That living ray, whose pow'r benign
Unfolds the scene of glory to our eye,

Where, thron'd in artless majesty, The cherub Beauty fits on Nature's rustic shrine.

CHORUS II.

O DE ON CON TEN T.

AT HELWOLD, THE HUSBAND OF ELFRIDA, IS SUPPOSED TO BE

ABSENT.

1.
The turtle tells her plaintive tale,
Sequefter'd in some shadowy vale;
The lark in radiant æther Alotes,
And swells his wild extatic notes :
Meanwhile on yonder hawthorn fpray
The Linnet wakes her temp'rate lay;
She haunts no solitary shade,
She futters o'er no fun-fhine mead,
No love-lorn griefs depress her fong,

No raptures lift it loudly high,
But soft she trills, amid th' aerial throng,
Smooth simple strains of sob’rest harmony.

II.
Sweet bird ! like thine our lay shall flow,
Nor gaily loud, nor fadly slow;
For to thy note sedate, and clear,
Content still lends a list’ning ear.
Reclind this mofly bank along,
Oft has she heard thy easy song:

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