A new collection of poems and songs. Written by several persons. Collected by J. Bulteel

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Page 16 - I GRANT, a thousand oaths I swore, I none would love but you! But not to change would wrong me more, Than breaking them would do!
Page 76 - Till poets drefs'd them up to charm the fight; So beauty took on truft, and did engage For fums of praifes till fhe came to age.
Page 52 - Leander breathlefs lay. IV. To extricate my felf from Love Which I could ill obey, but worfe command, I took my Pencils in my hand > With that Artillery for Conqueft ftrove, Like wife...
Page 15 - We soon shall part, or soon agree. Know then though you were twice as fair, If it could be, as now you are, And though the graces of your mind With a resembling lustre shined ; Yet if you loved me not, you'd see, I'd value that as you do me.
Page 73 - A paradife mould be an Adamite. The northern lad his bonny lafs throws down, And gives her a black bag for a green gown.
Page 74 - Let merit crowns, and juftice laurels give, But let me happy by your pity live. True poets empty fame and praife defpife, Fame is the trumpet, but your fmile the prize.
Page 118 - Wars' chief support with them would buried be, And the land owe her peace unto the sea. Ages to come your conquering arms will bless, There they destroy what had destroyed their peace.
Page 15 - ... soon agree. Know then, though you were twice as fair, If it could be, as now you are : And though the graces of your mind With a resembling lustre shined ; Yet, if you loved me not, you'd see I'd value those as you do me.
Page 69 - Tis an Armado Royal doth engage For fbme ne>v Hellen, with this Equipage .Prepared too, fnould we their Addrefles bar, To force this Miflrefs with a ten years War ; But that our Mine's a common Good, a Joy, Made not to ruin, but enrich our Troy. But oh ! Thefe bring it with them, and confpire To pawn that Idol for our Smoke and Fire. Silver's but Ballaft , this they bring on...
Page 37 - I at her feet did fall, And proftrate lay till up flie bid me ftand, Saying, " For this I thee did never call, But boldly to receive my great command: Arife ; for, lo, a better fate Does on thy tuneful numbers wait, Than what thou in the deep haft tried of late. Not but that all thy labours there To thine own wifli...

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