Soon the fair Narciffus dies,

Soon he droops his languid head;
From the rofe her purple flies,
Nome inviting to her bed,
None, &c.

Such, tho' now so sweet and gay,
Soon thali be the queen of May;
Such, tho' now, &c.

Tho' thou art a rural queen,

By the fuffrage of the fwains,
Beauty, like the vernal green,
In thy fhrine not long remains,
In thy, &c.

Biefs, then, quickly bless the youth,
Who deferves thy love and truth;
Blefs, then, quickly blefs the youth,
Who deferves, &e.

19

HAPPY hours all hours excelling,
When retir'd from crowds and noise,
Happy is that filent dwelling,
Fill'd with felf-poffeffing joys.
Happy is that contented creature,
Who with fewest things is pleas'd,
And confults the voice of nature,
When of roving fancy's eas'd.
Every paffion wifely moving,
Juft as reafon turns the scale,
Every ftate of lite improving.

That no anxious thoughts prevail.
Happy man who thus poffeffes,

Life with fome companion dear;
Joy imparted ftill increases,
Griefs when told foon difappear.

B'efs'd, who can unconcern'dly find
Hours, days, and years, flide soft away,
In health of body, peace of mind,

Quiet by day.
Sound fleep by night, fudy and ease
Together mix'd, fweet recreation,
And innocence, which most doth please,
With meditation.

Thus let me live, unfeen, unknown;

Thus unlamented let me die
Steal from the world, and not a ftone

Tell where I lie,

21

Fly, fly, betimes, for fear you give Occafion for your fate,

In vain, faid the, in vain I ftrive. Alas! 'tis now too late.

23

AGAIN the balmy zephyr blows,
Fresh verdure decks the grove,
Each bird with vernal rapture glows,
And tunes his notes to love,
Ye gentle warblers, hither fly,
And fhun the noon-tide heat;
My fhrubs a cooling shade fupply,
My groves a fafe retreat,

Here freely hop from fpray to fpray,
Or weave the moffy neft;

Here rove and fing the live long day,
At night here sweetly est.
Amidft this cool translucent rill,
That trickle down the glade,

Here bathe your pumes, here drink your fill,
And revel in the fhade.

No fchool-boy rude, to mifchief prone,
E'er fhews his ruddy face,

Or twangs his bow, or huils a ftone,
In this fequefter'd place.
Hither the vocal thrush repairs,
Secure the linnet fings

The goldfinch dreads no flimy snares
To clog her painted wings.
Sad Philomel! ah quit thy haunt,

Yon diftant woods among,
And round my friendly grotto chaunt
Thy fweetly-plantive fong.

Let not the harmless red-breaft fear,
Domeftic bird, to come

And feek a fure afylum here,

With one that loves his home.

My trees for you, ye artlefs tribe,
Shall ftore of fruit preferve;

Oh, let me, thus your friendship bribe!
Come feed without referve.

24

AWAKE, my fair, the morning springs,
The dew-drops glance around,
The heifer lows, the black bird fings,
The echoing vales refound.

The fimple sweets would Stella tafte,
That breathing morning yields,
The fragrance of the flow ry wafte,
And freshnefs of the fields!

By uplands, and the green wood fide,
We'll take our early way,
And view the vally spreading wide,
And op'ning with the day.
Nor uninstructive fhall the scene

Unfold i's charms in vain,

The follow brown, the meadow green,
The mountain and the plan.

Each dew drop glitt ning on the thorn,
And trembling to it's fall,

Each blush tha paint the chesk of morn,
In fancy's ear shall cali:

Oye in youth and beauty's pride,

Who lightly dance along;

While laughter frolics at your fide,
And rapture tunes your fong;

What though each grace around you play,
Each beauty bloom for you,

Warm as the biufh of rifing day,

And fparkling as the dew;
The blush that glows fo gaily now,

But glows to difappear,

And quiv'ring from the bending bough, Soon breaks the pearly tear!

So pafs the beauties of your prime,

That e'en in blooming die;
So, fhrinking at the blatt of time,
The treach'rous graces fly.

Let thofe, my Stella, flight the ftrain,
Who fear to find it true!
Each tair of tranfient beauty vain,

And youth as tranfient too!

With charms that win beyond the fight,
And held the willing heart,
My Stella fhall await their flight,
Nor figh when they depart.

Still graces fhall remain behind,
And beauties ftill controul;
The graces of the polish'd mind,
And beauties of the foul.

25

AH! whither, alas! fhali I Aly?
What clime fhall I feek for relief?
Since Phillis no longer is nigh,

O! how fhall fmother my grief?
The fweeteft, the fairest was the,

So fweetly the tript o'er the plain; But now the ne'er fmiles upon me, She's faithlefs-and falfe th her fwain. With Strephon fhe's gone far away, With him is contented and bleft; While I am diftracted all day,

And ruin'd for want of my rest. No heed can I take of my sheep,

They ramble and roam as they please,
For I can do nothing but weep,
Till Phillis my forrows appeafe.

Dear nymph, hear thy fhepherd complain,
Return and fubdue all my care;
No longer torment me with pain,

Nor drive me thus into defpair:
Thy charms ever shall be my pride,
Thy fmiles I will ever admire,
Thea deign for to be but my bride,
And fatisfy all my defire.

ALL

26 nature loks gay, While birds on each spray Re-echo fweet harmony round; The lily and rofe

Their beauties difclofe,, And daifies enamel the ground.

The meadows look green,
No forrows are feen,
Each garden's enraptur'd with joy;
Bright murmuring rills,
That circle the hills,
Yield pleafures that never can cloy.
The foowy-fleec'd lambs,
Befide of their dams,
País merrily all the glad day;
While hufbandmen fweat,
By the wonderful heat
Of Phabus's powerful ray.

And tho' the fpring's fled,
We've fummer instead,

With charms that enliven the foul
So nothing but mirth
Inhabits our earth,

From latitude-nought, to the pole. 27

As

Jamie gay, gang'd blithe his way,
Along the banks of Tweed,

A bonny lafs, as ever was,
Came ripping o'er the mead :
The hearty fwain, untaught to feign,
The buxom nymph furvey'd :
And full of glee, as lad could be,
Befpake the pretty maid.

Dear laffy. tell, why by thine fel

Thou haftily wand'reft here?

My ewes, the cry'd, are fraying wide;
Canft tell me, laddy, where?
To town ife hie, he made reply,
Some muckle fport to fee;

at thou'rt fo fweet, fo trim and neat, Ife feek the ewes with thee.

She gin her hand, nor made a ftand,
But lik'd the youth's intent;

O'er hill and dale, o'er plain and vale,
Right merrily they went :

The birds fang fweet the pair to greet,
And flowers bloom'd around;

And as they walk'd, of love they talk'd,
And joys which lovers crown'd.

And now the fun had rofe to noon,
(The zenith of his pow'r)
When to a fhade their steps they made,
To pafs the mid-day hour:
The bonny lad raw'd in his plaid
The lafs who fcorn'd to frown;
She foon forgot the ewes the faught,
And he to gang to town.
28

As Damon late, within the grove,
Bemoan'd his too fuccefslefs love,

And eas'd (retir'd) his fecret pain,
The god of love, who wander'd near,
Chanc'd his complaint to overhear,

And thus address'd the swain:
Rife, filly fhepherd, rise, (he cry'd;)
It feems you're easily deny'd,

Because the charming nymph is coy: The tongue may learn to fpeak with art; But would you know the fair-one's heart,* Confult it in her eye!

'Tis in that mirror of her foul,
The fecrets of her bofom roll,

Reveal'd, without disguise, to view;
For, Damon, take it for a tru h,
You only are the favour'd youth,

And Lydia loves but you!

No more my altars then upbraid,
Nor thus invoke my need efs aid!

Since faithful I have done my part:
Thy own perform with like addrefs,
She foon fhall yield, thy arms to bless,
And give thee all her heart!

A a

As paffing by a fhady grove,

I heard a linnet fing,

Whose sweetly-plaintive voice of love Proclaim'd the chearful fpring. His pretty accents feem'd to flow

As if he knew no pain;

His downy throat he tun'd fo fweet,
It echo'd o'er the plain.

Ah! happy warbler, (I reply'd,).
Contented thus to be;

'Tis only harmony and love

Can be compar'd to thee:

Thus perch'd upon the spray ye stand,
The monarch of the fhade;.
And even fip ambrofial fwects,

That glow from ev'ry glade.
Did man poffefs but half thy bliss,

How joyful might he be!
But man was never form'd for this,
'Tis only joy for thee.

Then farewel, pretty bird, (I said,)
Putfue thy plaintive tale,
And let thy tuneful accents fpread
All o'er the fragrant vale.

Young Chloris, innocent and gay,

Sat knotting in a fhade. Each flender finger play'd it's part With fuch activity and art, As would inflame a youthful heart, And warm the most decay'd. Her fav'rite fwain by chance came by, He faw no anger in her eye; Yet when the bafhful boy drew nigh, She would have feem'd afraid. She let her ivory needle fall, And hurl'd away the twisted ball: But ftraight gave Strephon such a call, As wou'd have rais'd the dead. Dear gentle youth, is't none but thee With innocence I dare be free: By fo much truth and modefty No nymph was e'er betray'd. Come, lean thy head upon my lap, While thy fweet cheeks I ftroke and clap, Thou may'ft fecurely take a nap:

When he, poor fool! obey'd.

She faw him yawn, and heard him snore;
And found him fat afleep all o'er:
She figh'd, and could endure no more,
But ftarting up, she said,
Such virtue fhall rewarded be;
For this thy dull fidelity,

I'll truft thee with my flocks, not me:
Purfue thy grazing trade.

Go, milk thy goats, and fhear thy fheep,
And watch all night thy flocks to keep;
Thou shalt no more be lull'd asleep
By me, miftaken maid.

on a fummer's day, In the green-wood fhade I lay, The maid that I lov'd, As her fancy mov'd,. Came walking forth that way.