LORD LYTTELTON

Whene'er she speaks, my ravish'd ear No other voice than hers can hear, No other wit but hers approve: Tell me, my heart, if this be love I

If she some other youth commend, Though I was once his fondest friend, His instant enemy I prove: Tell me, my heart, if this be love ?

When she is absent, I no more Delight in all that pleased before The clearest spring, or shadiest grove: Tell me, my heart, if this be love?

When fond of power, of beauty vain, Her nets she spread for every swain, I strove to hate, but vainly strove: Tell me, my heart, if this be love ?

��SAMUEL JOHNSON One-and-Twenty

T ONG-EXPECTED one-and-twenty,

• • Ling'ring year, at length is flown:

Pride and pleasure, pomp and plenty,

Great * * * * * * *, are now your own.

Loosen'd from the minor's tether,

Free to mortgage or to sell, Wild as wind, and light as feather,

Bid the sons of thrift farewell.

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