The poetical works of Vincent Bourne, consisting of originals and translations. To which are added his letters, Volum 1

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Longman, Hurst, Rees, & Orme, 1808

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Side 112 - Busy, curious, thirsty fly, Drink with me, and drink as I ; Freely welcome to my cup, Couldst thou sip and sip it up. Make the most of life you may ; Life is short, and wears away. " Both alike are mine and thine, Hastening quick to their decline ; Thine's a summer, mine no more, Though repeated to threescore ; Threescore summers, when they're gone, Will appear as short as one.
Side 102 - I hear a voice, you cannot hear, Which says, I must not stay; I see a hand, you cannot see, Which beckons me away.
Side 20 - When in the slippery paths of youth With heedless steps I ran, Thine arm unseen convey'd me safe, And led me up to man.
Side 92 - Susan, Susan, lovely dear, My vows shall ever true remain; Let me kiss off that falling tear; We only part to meet again. Change as ye list, ye winds; my heart shall be The faithful compass that still points to thee. "Believe not what the landsmen say, Who tempt with doubts thy constant mind: They'll tell thee sailors when away, In every port a mistress find : Yes, yes, believe them when they tell thee so, For thou art present wheresoe'er I go.
Side 39 - Soon as the evening shades prevail, The moon takes up the wondrous tale, And nightly to the listening earth Repeats the story of her birth; Whilst all the stars that round her burn, And all the planets in their turn, Confirm the tidings as they roll, And spread the truth from pole to pole.
Side 34 - Then see the sorrows of my heart, Ere yet it be too late ; And hear my Saviour's dying groans, To give those sorrows weight. VI. For never shall my soul despair Her pardon to procure, Who knows thine only Son has died To make her pardon sure.
Side 124 - Cynthia, turn, he said: The hunted hind lies close in yonder brake. Loud Cupid laugh'd, to see the god's mistake ; And laughing, cried, Learn better, great divine, To know thy kindred, and to honour mine. Rightly advis'd, far hence thy sister seek, Or on Meander's bank, or Latmus
Side 92 - So the sweet lark, high poised in air. Shuts close his pinions to his breast (If, chance, his mate's shrill call he hear), And drops at once into her nest.
Side 60 - The last humble boon that I crave Is to shade me with Cypress and Yew; And when she looks down on my grave, Let her own that her shepherd was true.

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