While in the bower with beauty blest

Why, cruel creature, why so bent

my

fond bosom! ah, what can it mean

Why heaves
Why we love and why we hate

Why will Florella, while I

gaze

243

With women I have pass'd my days
Would you taste the noontide air
Wrong not, sweet Mistress of my heart

Ye happy swains whose hearts are free

Ye little loves that round her wait

289

327

261

148

205

You tell me I'm handsome, I know not how true

294

Young I am,

and yet unskill'd

156

NAMES OF AUTHORS,

WITH REFERENCES.

Addison, 189,

Akenside, 334.

Barbauld, Mrs. 112, 114, 116, 232, 234, 247, 251,

253,254.

Berkeley, 151,

Booth, Barton, 265.

Brook, Lord, 264.

Brown, Tom, 240.

Bradley, 326,

Buckingham, Sheffield D. of, 133.

Burgoyne, 309.

Byrom, 268.

Campbell, 297.

Carey, Henry, 146, 282, 285.

Carlyle, 276, 277, 299.

Carter, 155.

Chesterfield, E. of, 210.

Collins, 140.

Congreve, 192, 193, 196, 209.

Cooper, Gilbert, 159, 314, 315.

Cowley, 227.

Cowper, 281.

Croxall, 125.

Cunningham, 80, 91.

Dorset, E. of, 132, 141, 291.

Dryden, 104, 138, 328.

Dryden, Charles, 235.

Eaton, Sir J. 153.
Elliott, Sir G. 267.

Etheridge, 148, 191.

Falconer, 307.

Gay, 56, 58, 60.

Garrick, 333.

Goldsmith, 42, 142.

Hamilton, 103, 129, 147.

Herrick, 305.

How, John, 194.

Jenyns, Soame, 117, 202.

Jones, Sir W. 313.

Jonson, Ben, 263.

King (Bp. of Chichester), 324.

Lansdowne, Lord, 136, 154, 211.

Lee, 124

Lisle, 211.

Logan, 272.

Lyttelton, Lord 107, 109, 191.

Mallett, 53, 73.

Marlow, 302.

Marvell, 225.

Mason, 275.

Milton, 327.

Montague, Lady M. W. 200.

Moore, E. 274, 294, 295.

Moore, J. 287.

Otway, 137, 298.

Parnell, 149, 331.

Percy, 37, 161.

Phillips, 101, 187, 188, 199.

Pilkington, Rev. M. 340.

Mrs. 231, 346.

Prior, 67, 105, 106, 108, 215.

Pulteney, 212.

Raleigh, 261, 303.

Rochester, E. of 131, 203, 329.

Rowe, 62, 65, 139.

Scott, Walter, 337.

Sedley, 150, 190, 197.

Shakspeare, 259, 260, 261.

Shenstone, 77, 82, 84, 87, 89, 195.

Sheridan, 279, 280, 310, 311, 314, 342.

THE

ORIGIN OF SONG-WRITING,

Addressed to DR. AIKIN.

[MRS. BARBAULD.]

Illic indocto primum se exercuit arcu ;
Hei mihi quam doctas nunc habet ille manus!

Tibullus.

WHEN
HEN Cupid, wanton boy, was young,
His wings unfledg'd, and rude his tongue,
He loiter'd in Arcadian bowers,

And hid his bow in wreaths of flowers;
Or pierc'd some fond unguarded heart,
With now and then a random dart;
But heroes scorn'd the idle boy,
And love was but a shepherd's toy:
When Venus, vex'd to see her child
Amid the forests thus run wild,
Would point him out some nobler game,
Gods, and godlike men to tame.
She seiz'd the boy's reluctant hand,
And led him to the virgin band,
Where the sister Muses round
Swell the deep majestic sound;
And in solemn strains unite,
Breathing chaste, severe delight;

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