Twelve canzonets, for two voices

Time has not thinn'd my flowing Hair,
Nor bent me with his Iron Hand;
Ah! why so soon the Blossom tear,
E'er Autumn yet the Fruit demand!

Let me enjoy the chearful Day
'Til many a Year has o'er me roll'd,
Pleas'd let me trifle Life away,
And sing of Love e'er I grow old.

The Day that saw thy Beauty rise
Shall sacred be for ever blest!
The World in awe of Delias Eyes
Shall  grow as gentle as her Breast.

By all our Vows and hid Desires,
O may our Loves be still the same!
I glory in the pleasing Fires,
If Delia share a mutual Flame!

From the Plains from the Woodlands and Groves
What Strains of wild Melody flow?
How the Nightingales warble their Loves
From the Thickets of Roses that blow.

But when her bright Form shall appear,
Each Bird shall harmoniously join
In a Concert so soft and so clear
As she may not be fond to resign.

Now I know what it is to have strove
With the Torment of Doubt ad Desire,
What it is to admire and to love,
And to leave her we love and admire.

Ah! lead forth my Flock in the Morn,
And the Damps of the Ev'ning repel;
Alas! I am faint and forlorn,
I've bad my dear Phillis farewel!

Ah! where does my Phillida stray,
Ah! where are her Grots and her Bow'rs?
Are the Groves and the Valleys do gay,
Are the Shepherds so gentle as ours?

The Groves may perhaps be as fair,
The Face of the Valleys as fine,
The Swains may in Manners compare,
But their Love is not equal to mine!

The pilgrim that journeys all Day
To visit some far distant Shrine,
If he bear but a Relic away,
Is happy nor heard to repine.

Thus widely remov'd from the Fair,
Where my Vows my Devotion I owe,
Soft Hope is the Relic I bear,
And my Solace where ever I go.

Take, o take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again;
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, sealed in vain.

 ... 

O Venus! hear my ardent Pray'r!
Or bind the Nymph, or loose the Swain;
Yet rather guard them with thy Care
To die together in thy Chain.

What I demand her Heart desires,
But Fears the eager Wish restrain:
The secret Thought which Love inspires
The conscious Eye can well explain.

Do not unbind two gentle Hearts,
Nor tear me from my weeping Fair.
Suspend the cruel fatal Stroke!
Two faithful hapless Lovers spare!

Sad is my Day and ling'ring Night,
In silent Grief I weep alone;
Delia is lost, my past Delight
Is now the Source of endless Moan!

When spent with Grief I die at last,
Will Delia see my poor Remains?
Lament the Time in Absence past
And pity then her Lover's Pains?

Ah! what avails thy Lover's Pray'r,
His Incense clouds the Sky in vain.
Nor Wealth nor Greatness was his Care,
Thee, thee alone he beg'd to gain.

With thee to waste the pleasing Day,
When ev'ry Hour in Joy was past,
With Love insensibly decay
And on thy Bosom breathe my last.

Alas from the Day when we met,
What Hope of an end to my Woes,
When I cannot endure to forget
The Glance that undid my Repose?

Yet Time  may diminish the Pain:
The Flow'r, the Shrub and the Tree
Which I rear'd for her Pleasure in vain,
In Time may have Comfort for me.