63

Fair quiet here I find,

FA

AREWEL, ye love-enchanting fhades,

And ev'ry vernal grove;

Adieu, ye mofly woods and glades,

Your paths no more I rove!

No orient blushes now arife,
To tinge the (pangled dawn;
No foaring pinions reach the skies,
To hail the infant dawn.

The fhepherd now his crook forfakes,
His pipes and fleecy care;
No mattins war ble from the brakes,
Or rend the gloomy air.

Fair Phillis, hear the direful truth,
To natures laws attend;
Triumph not o'er thy gen'rous youth,
Or mourn the fatal end.

Depend not on thy fading charms,
Or their united pow'r;
Refign them to Amintor's arms,
And blefs the happy hour.

Then fhall life's fpring glide on ferene,
Nor ruffling tempefts reign;
So fhall you prove love's happy queen,
And blefs a faithful fwain.

64

FLOW, murm'ring river, flow; Whilft on thy borders grow

Gay Flora's ticheft pride: And fince thy bounty feeds The neighb'ring verdant meads, In ceafelefs trinklings glide. pon the whifp'ring ftream, May faithful lovers dream, Whilft fings the bumming-bee: Or let th' impaffion'd fwain Moft fweetly there complain, Or pipe in tuneful glee. pon thy banks I'll ftray, Io lull my cares away,

There hun the noontide beam :

This toothes my thoughtful mind;

I thank thee, gentle ftream.

65

HER fheep had in clüfters crept close to a grove,
To hide from the heat of the day;

And Phillis herself, in a woodbine alcove,
Among the fweet violets lay:

A young lambkin, it seems, had been ftole from it's ('Twix Cupid and Hymen a plot)

[dam, That Corydonnight, as he fearch'd for his lamb, Arrive at the critical fpot.

As thro' the green hedge for his lambkin he peeps
He faw the fair nymph with furprize;

Ye gods, if fo killing, he cry d, while the fleeps,
I'm lost if the opens her eyes;

To tarry much longer would hazard my heart,
I'll homeward my lambkin to trace.
But in vain honeft Corydon ftrove to depart,
For love held him faft to the place.

Ceafe, ceafe, pretty birds, what a chirping you keeps
I think you too loud on the spray;

Don't you fee, foolish lark, that the charmer's afleep,
You ll wake her as fure as 'tis day.

How dare that fond butterfly touch the fweet maid!
Her cheeks he miftakes for the rose:
I'd put him to death, if I was not afraid

My boldness would break her repofe.
Then Phillis look'd up with a languishing fmile,
Kind fhepherd, faic fhe, you mistake;

I laid myfelf down tor to reft me awhile,
But trust me I've long been awake.

The fhepherd took courage, advanc'd with a bow,
He plac'd himself down by her fide;

And manag'd the matter, I cannot tell how,
But yesterday made her his bride.

Flora, bring thy fweetest treafure;
Zephyrs, waft thy fofteft gale;
Chant, ye birds, the fong of pleasure;
Echo, tell it thro' the vale.
Leaflefs, tunelefs, unendearing,
Mourn'd the long-deserted grove;
But, fweet fpring, at thy appearing,
All is harmony and love.

67 How fweet the frefiting gales of spring! Each blufhing morn how gay! The tuneful lark begins to fing, As foon as dawn of day. Then next Aurora's golden ray Comes glancing o'er the plains; To hail the warblers plaintive lay, And rouze the sturdy fwains; Who from their cots to toil repair, Regardless of all ftrife; Unknowing, and unknown to care, Is fure the shepherds life.

He toils, he carols, all the day;

At eve, then home he bends; Charm'd with the birds on every spray, As to his cottage tends.

His cottage teems with infants dear,

That's who'efome, clean, and neat ;
His wife his bed his all is there,
To make his joys compleat.
With thefe he fits a welcome gueft,
So happy and fo gay;
Tiil twilight points the hour of rest,
They then it's call obey.

68

HAIL, thru fource of thought divine!
Aweful folitude be mine:

Let me, from the world fecluded,
By no glitt'ring joys deluded,
Earthly pleasures all defpife,

Hoping for eternal joys.

Let me wander o'er the plains,
Where perpetual filence reigns;
Whilft I, at the clofe of even,
View the blue befpangl'd heav'n;
Let me then my God adore,
Mark his works, and own his pow'r.
When the blufhing morn has fpread
Dewy fragrance o'er the mead;
When the newly-rifen fun
Has his daily task begun,
Teach me then, in tuneful lays,
To chant my great Creator's praife.
When my peaceful life is spent,
Free from care and difcontent,
Let me, O my God! when thou
Call'ft me from this world below,
With hope of heav'nly pleasures bleft,
In gentle flumbers fink to rest.

69
HAVE ye feen the morning sky,
When the dawn prevails on high,
When, anon, fome purple ray,
G ves a fample of the day;
When, anon, the lark on wing,
Strives to foar, and flrains to fing 3
Have ye feen th' ethereal blue,
Gently fhedding filver dew,
Spangling o'er the filent green,
While the nightingale, unfeen,
To the moon and ftars full bright,
Lonefome chants the hymn of hight?
Have ye seen the broïder'd May,
All her fcented blooms difplay,
Breezes opening every hour,
This and that expecting flower,
While the mingling birds prolong,
From each bush, the vernal föng?
Have ye feen the damask rose
Her unfully'd blush diclofe ;
Or the lily's dewy bell,
In her gloffy white excel;

Or a garden vary'd o'er

With a thousand glories more?
By the beauties these difplay,
Morning, evening, night, or day;
By the pleafures thefe excite,
Endlefs fources of delight!
Judge by them the joys I find,
Since my Rofalind was kind ;
Since the did herself refign
To my vows, for ever mine.

70

HARK! the birds begin their lay, Flowrets deck the robe of May: See the little lambkins bound, Playful, o'er the clover-ground; While the heifers fportive low Where the yellow cowllips blow. Now the nymphs and swains advance O'er the lawn in perfect dance; Garlands from the hawthorn bough Grace the happy thepherd's brow; While the laffes, in array Wait upon the queen of May. Innocence, content and love, Fill the meadows and the grove; Mirth that never wears a frown, Health with fweetness all her own; Labour puts on pleasure's smile, And pale care forgets his toil.

A paffion fo happy alarm'd all the plain :
Some envy'd the nymph; but more envy'd the fwain.
Some fwore 'twou'd be pity their loves to invade;
That the lovers alone for each other were made:
But all, all confented that none ever knew
A nymph yet fo kind, or a shepherd fo true.

Love faw them with pleasure, and vow'd to take care
Of the faithful, the tender, the innocent pair:
What either did want he bid either to move;
But they wanted nothing but ever to love:
Said 'twas all that to pleafe them his god-head could
That they still might be kind, and ftill might be true.

72

IMMORTAL powers, convey me where

No tumultuous throngs appear;
Far from flatt'ry, far from care,
Let me breathe the rural air.
Bear me to fome fhady grove,
Bleft retreat of peace and love;
Where, fecure, the warbling choir
From the bufy world retire.

Where nature's beauties deck the ground,
Thousand beauteous flowers abound:
Still, to make the fcene more fair,
Let lovely Delia meet me there.
Delia's prefence will improve
The vernal beauty of the grove;
Give each flower a pleafing dye,
Brighter azure to the fky.
Venus, to complete my joy,
Hither fend thy fportive boy;
And, in this propitious hour,
Delia own his power.

Let

my

[do,

Brifker

Brifk'y crows the shepherd's clock!

And proclaims the morning nigh, Swiftly from the mountain's brow,

Shadows nure'd by night retire; And the peeping fun-beɛm, now, Paints with gold the village fire. Philomel forfakes the thorn,

Plaintive where he prates at night; And the lark, to meet the morn,

Soars beyond the fhepherd's fight. From the clay-built cottage ridge,

See the chatt'ring-fwallow fpring; Darting through the one arch'd bridge, Quick the dips her dappled wing. Trickling through the crevic'd rock, See the filver ftream diftit Sweet refreshment for the flock,

When 'tis fun-drove from the hill. Plowmen for the promis'd corn,

Ripening o'er the banks of Tweed, Anxious hear the huntsman's horn, Soften'd by the shepherd's reed. Sweet, oh! fweet, the warbling throng, On the white emblofïom'd fpray! All in mufic, mirth and fong,

At the jocund dawn of days

Of ample orchards, halefome ftreams,
Where fishes fport in funny beams;
Of diftant meads, where flocks are seen,
Like argent spots on pureft green,
Where (while he crops the vernal boon)
The mower fings of roly June.

To fing of clover's purple dye,
Grateful to the wond'ring eye;
Of pea-blown vallies, wheat-clad fields,
Brighter scenes than Tempe yields.
Ah! how gay, by midnight moon,
Are fcenes like thefe in rofy June.
And ftill to fing, in Doric ftrains,
Of low-roof'd cots, where quiet reigns;
Of ruftic lads, by honour fram`d,
Of fylvan maids, for beauty fam'd,
Whofe loves will never cloy fo foon,
But ever laft as fresh as June.

And (more than many a realm can boast)
To fing our fea-girt happy coaft,
Where, big with commerce, ev'ry tide
The fleets of distant nations glide.
To themes like thefe my flute I tune,
Whilft roses deck the month of June.

76

Lo! what dreary, darkfome morning,
Ufhers in the rifing day;
Phoebus, from the weft returning,
Dimly gleams a trembling ray.
Now no more the lark, high-foaring,
Chaunts her fweetly-thrilling ftrain;
Far away the haftes, exploring

Some more hofpitable plain.
Flocks of fparrows, pertly hopping,
Here and there collect a grain ;
While the fweet domeftic robin,
For the city quits the plain.
Birds of ev'ry fong and pinion,

Own frern winter's rigid reign;
And for fummer's foft dominion
Silent figh, but figh in vain.
Some in penfive notes repining,

On the fnow-emboffed spray,
For their abfent partners pining,
Sigh their little lives away.
Now no more is heard refounding,
Up yon cliff, the bufy mill;
Winter's frigid arms furrounding,
Lock the fweetly-tinkling rill.

Lo! how all our scenes of pleasure,
Cloth'd in fpotless liveries lie,

But hark! in yonder vale, gay moving,
Breathes the far-refounding horn;
Whilst the jovial fportfmen roving,
Hail, with fhouts, the rifing morn.

No Adieu ! wife

77 more the feftive train I'll join : ye rural sports, adieu ! For what, alas! have griefs like mine

With paftimes or delights to do!
Let hearts at eafe fuch pleasures prove,
But I am all defpair and love.

Ah, well a day! how chang'd am I!
When late 1 feiz'd the rural reed,
So foft my ftrains, the herds hard by
Stood gazing, and forgot to feed;
But now my ftrains no longer move,
They're difcord all, defpair, and love.
Behold around my ftraggling sheep,
The fairest once upon the lea;
No fwain to guide, no dog to keep,
Unfhorn'd they stray, nor mark'd by me:
The shepherds moura to fee them rove;
They afk the caufe, I anfwer love.
Neglected love firft taught my eyes

With tears of anguish to o'erflow;

'Tis that which fill'd my breast with fighs,
And tun'd my pipe to notes of woe;
Love has occafion'd all my smart,
Difpers'd my flock, and broke my heart.