New poems.: I. The young lover's guide: or, The unsuccessful amours of Philabius, a country lover; set forth in several kind epistles, writ by him to his beautious-unkind mistress. Teaching young lovers how to comport themselves with resignation in their love-disasters. II. The answer of Helena to Paris, newly translated by a country shepherdess. III. The sixth Æneid and fourth eclogue of Virgil, newly translated. / By J.B. Gent.

Another Epistle writ by Philabius to his beautious Mistress.

My only DEAR,

IF Men distracted chance to give Offence, Good Natures turn it all to Innocence. I hope in you such Goodness I shall find; O'er-doz'd with Love, I'm discompos'd in Mind. I write, and write, and know not what I do; O! pardon this fond Trouble giv'n to you. With Thought o'er-set my Soul no rest can have, But in your Kindness, or my fatal Grave. Oft do my Friends dissuade me from my Suit, Such is my Love, no Friend on Earth can do't, Whate'er Severeness you to me shall shew; If Love be true, 'twill creep where't cannot go.

Who shall presume t'a Lover Laws prescribe? The Law within him is his only Guide. 'T shall not be said I vow'd Love to my Dear, And fell from what my Protestations were. Love now so long I've foster'd in my Breast, In wilful Bondage I must lie opprest. My Will is not my own to wish me free, Or eas'd of my endeared Misery. When Love's inflam'd, it's vain to seek an end, On it will go, as boundless as the Wind. Oft by your House, I sad and musing pass, Fain would I enter; then I cry, Alas! All is Unkindness there I ever found; Despairing Thoughts my willing Mind confound. My Soul, at least, is ever with my Dear, Her Charms admiring, whisp'ring in her Ear. Soft is that Whisper; which when you perceive In silent Thoughts, you roughly bid it, Leave. My Soul then silent for a while does stand, Humbly obedient to your dread Command.

Watches a time its Courtship to renew, Believe me, so 'will ever ever do. Alas, my Dear! take some small Care of me, My Zeal for you a Person blind may see. Long since it is I writ you an Adieu, Can't yet resign to leave my Home and You. Still am in Fear that dreadful Day will come, Which I may truly call my Day of Doom. If you enforce it, what can I then say? What Heav'n denies us, we cannot enjoy. A Wand'rer in the World I then become, No Friend I have on Earth, no House, nor Home; And if I had them, what are these to me, When I'm debarr'd your dear Society? If I must leave my Country, Friends, and Dear, And, as a Vagrant, wander here and there, My Spirit mightily will return to you; Be not affrighted when you it shall view. 'Twill be as gentle, as my Heart is kind, Begging and Praying Kindness I may find.

As you'd have Kindness from the Pow'rs above, Tho' not your Person, let me have your Love. I'm but your Eccho, Kindness thence you pray, Kindness from you my Soul again does cry. Heav'n grant that both our Prayers may be heard, Your Kindness mine, Heav'ns Kindness your Reward.

Philabius.