' ev'ry lambkin dévious ftray, nd grace our envious neighbours folds, ght can my Celia's foul difmay,

hile Strěphon to her breast she holds : he, my warmest thanks, O take, nce fhalt thou be my only care; hy virtues e'er forsake,

y heav'n regardless hear my pray'r.

mthy lovely form mine eyes

uld fwerve but in the leait degree; ear idea will arife,

I lead the wand'rer back to thee. long they liv'd, and long they lov'd, oft Iv'e heard the story told; heav'n their fortitude approv'd, amply fill'd the shepherd's fold.

93

EN fummer comes, the fwain's on Tweed s their fuccefsful loves;

d the ewes and lambkins feed,

I mufic fills the groves:

y lov'd fong is then the broom, air on Coruden knows;

re fo fweet, fo fair a bloom,
where there never grows.
Colin tun'd his oaten reed,
i won my yielding heart;
pherd e'er that dwelt on Tweed,
ld play with half fuch art.
g of Tay, of Forth, and Clyde,
hills and dales all round,
ader baughs, and Leader-file,
how I bleft the found.
ore delightful is the broom,
air on Cowden knows;

re fo freth, fo bright a broom,
where there never grows.
iviot-braes fo green and gay,
with this broom compare;
arrow banks in flow'ry May,
bush a boon Traquan,

day, in the ftrawberry-vale,
When only my Phillis was there,
I begg'd fhe'd attend to my tale,
I long to unbofum my care.
With fmiles, Tweet as Flora's in May.
She bid me my pleasures impart.

I faid, (in a faultering way)
Your eyes have ta en captive my
The dance and the tabor I fhun,

No eft on my pillow 1 find;
Believe me, wherever I run,

heart.

Your image till dwells in my mind.
O! footh the ke ́n anguish I bear,
I vow'd to be ever fincere:

Her hand the prefented to kifs,

And brighten'd her blush with a tear. And now, if my sheep are fecure, I meet her at eve in the dale, Where the wishes that flame may endure, She approv'd in the ftrawberry-vale. 95 THE pride of ev'ry grove I chofe, The violet fweet, and lily fair, The dappled pink, and blushing rofe, To deck my charming Chloe's hair. At morn the nymph vouchfaf'd to place Upon her brow the various wreathe; The flow's lefs blooming than het face, The fcent lefs fragrant than her breath. The flow's he wore along the day;

And ev'ry nmph and thepherd faid, That in her hair they look'd more gay Than glowing in their native bed

Undre

Undreft at ev'ning, when the found
Their colours left, their odours paft,
She chang'd her look, and on the ground
Her garland and her eye the caft.
That eye dropt fenfe diftinct and clear,
As any mufe's tongue could speak;
When from it's lid a pearly tear

Ran trickling down her beauteous cheek. Diffembling what I knew too well,

My love, my life, faid I, explain, This change of humour; pr'ythee, tell, That falling tear, what does it mean? She figh'd, the fmil'd; and to the flow'rs Pointing the lovely moralift faid, See, frieud, in fome jew fleeting hours, See yonder, what a change is made! Ah, me! the blooming pride of May And that of beauty are but one; At noon both flourish bright and gay,

Both fade at ev'ning, pa e and gone. At dawn poor Stella danc'd and fung, The am'rous youth around her bow'd; At night her fatal knell was rung,

I faw, and kifs'd her in her shroud. Such as the is, that dy'd to-day,

Such I, alas! may be to-morrow; Go, Damon. bid thy mufe defplay The juftice of my Chloe's forrow.

96

THE fummer gay, delightful scene,
With all it's pleafing charms,
It's golden groves, and polish'd green,
Will fink in winter's arms.

Come then, Eliza, let us rove,

'Midft nature's richest flore; Those bounties feize, and teaft like Jove, And nature's works explore.

Catch nature's beauties as they roll,
While mutual paffions charm;

Content fhall harmonize the foul,

And ev'ry pain difarm.

Then when ftern winter shakes the world,
And rapid lightnings fly,

When nature's in confufion hurl'd,
We'll ev'ry care deft.

-97

THE ponderous cloud was black and low, And fail'd majeftically flow,

Red lightning fcorch'd the ground: ` Tremendous, now, the thunder rolls, As if it would have riv'd the poles,

And torrents pour around,

No fhelter nigh, to fhield my head,
Along the champaign fwift I filed,
Before the opening skies;

Till from the weft a gale arofe,
Dilpers'd the cloud, the welkin glows,
And vernal fweets arife.
Creation feem'd as new awake,

From every dingle, bush, and brake,
E'en from the very fod;

The feather'd race their throats effay,
Who fhall falute, in fongs moft gay,
Tho wonder-working God.

Aham'd, that those of leaft efteem
Should praife the pow'r alone supreme,
I crav'd to be forgiven:

Straight, like the little graceful throng,
I, in an unaffected fong,

Adress'd my voice to heaven.

98 THE rooks in the neighb'ring grove For fhelter cry all the long day; heir huts, in the branches above, Are cover'd no longer with May The birds that fo cheerfuly fung,

Are filent, or plaintive each tone, And as they chirp low to their young,

The want of their goddess bemoan.

No daifies on carpets of green,

O'er nature's cold bofom are fpread; Not a fweet-briar fprig can be seen

To furnish fresh wreaths for my head: Some flow'rs indeed may be found,

But thefe neither blooming nor gay; The fairest ftill fleep in the ground, And wait for the coming of May. December perhaps has purloin'd

Her rich, though fantastical gear, With envy the months may have join'd, And jostled her out of the year. Home fhepherds, 'tis true, may repine To fee their lov'd gardens undreft, But I while my Phillida's mine,

Shall always have May in my breaft.

99

HE lovely Delia fmiles again!

That killing frown has left her brow: an fhe forgive my jealous pain, And give me back my angry vow? we is in April's doubtful day: Awhile we fee the tempeft lour? non the radiant heav'ns furvey, And quite forget the flitting show'r. he flow'rs that hung their languid head, Are burnish'd by the tranfient rains; he vines their wonted tendrils fpread, And double verdure gilds the plains. he fprightly birds, that droop'd no less Beneath the pow'r of rain and wind, every raptur'd note exprefs The joy I feel-when thou art kind.

100.

OUNG Colin was the bonniest swain hat ever pip'd on flow'ry plain,

Or danc'd upon the lee : he wanton kid, in gamefome round, hat frolicks o'er the flow'ry ground, Was not fo blithe as he.

Beneath the oak, in yonder vale,
You'd think you heard the nightingale,
Whene'er he rais'd his voice:

But, ah! the youth was all deceit,
His vows, his oaths, were all a cheat,
And choice fucceeded choice.
The maidens fung, in willow groves,
Of Colin's falfe and perjur'd loves;
Here Jenny told her woes:
And Moggy's tears increas'd the brook,
Whofe cheeks like dying lilies look,
That once out-blufh'd the rofe.
Unhappy fair, my words believe,
So fhall no fwain your hopes deceive,
And leave you to despair :

Ere he difciofe his fickle mind,
Change firft yourselves for ah! you'll find
Falfe Colins every where.

ΙΟΙ

FAIREST daughter of the year,

Ever blooming,, lovely May; While the vivia skies appear,

Nature fmiles, and all is gay... Thine the flowery painted mead,

Pafture fair, and mountain green; Thine, with infant harvest fpread,

Laughing lies the lowland fcene. Friend of thine, the shepherd plays

Blithfome near the yellow broom, While his flock, that careless frays,

Seeks the wild-thyme's fweet perfume, May, with thee I mean to rove

O'er thefe lawns and vallies fair,
Tune my gentle lyre to love,

Cherish hope, and foften care.
Round me fhall the village fwains,
Shall the rofy nymph appear;
While I fing, in rural strains,
May, to fhepherds ever dear.

A o'er the varied meads I ftray,
Or trace thro' winding woods my way,
While op'ning flow'rs their fweets exhale,
And odours breathe in every gale;
Where fage contentment builds her feat,
And peace attends the calm retreat,
My foul refponfive bails the fcene,
Attun'd to joy, and peace within.
But mufing on the lib'ral hand,
That fcatters bleffings e'er the land,
That gives for man with pow'r divine,
The earth to teem, the fun to fhine;
My grateful heart with rapture burns,
And pleasure to devotion turns.

Nor flow'ry plain, nor budding tree,
That fmile on others, fmile on me;
Mine eyes from death fhall court repose,
Nor fhed a tear before they close.
What blifs to me can feafons bring!
Or, what the needlefs pride of spring!
The cypress bough, that fuits the bier,
Retains it's verdure all the year.

'Tis true, my vine so fresh and fair,
Might claim awhile my wonted care;
My rural ftore fome pleasure yield;
So white a flock, fo green a field!
My friends, that each'in kindness vie,
Might well expect one parting figh;
Might well demand one tender tear;
For when was Damon infincere?

But ere I afk once more to view
Yon fitting fun his race renew,
Inform me, fwains, my friends declare,
Will pitying Delia join the prayer?

-104

O'ER defert plains, and rushy meers,
And wither'd heaths I rove;
Where tree nor fpire, nor cot appears,
I país to meet my love.

But tho' my paths were damask'd o'er
With beauties e'er fo fine;
My bufy thoughts would fly before
To fix alone on thine.

No fir crown'd hills cou'd give delight,
No palace please mine eye:

No pyramid's aerial height,

Where mould'ring monarchs lie.

Unmov'd should eaftern king advance:
Could I the pagent fee:

Splendour might catch one fcornful glance,
Nor Real one thought from thee.

105

OON as the fun began to peep,
And gild the morning skies,
ung Chloe from diforder'd fleep
Jnveil'd her radiant eyes.

guardian Sylph, the wanton sprite hat waited on her ftill,

I teaz'd her all the tedious night Vith vifionary ill.

e fhock of fate is furely nigh!
xclaim'd the tim'rous maid:
at does thofe horrid dreams imply!
ly Cupid can't be dead!

call'd her Cupid by his name,
dread of fome mishap;
ging his tail, her Cupid came,
nd jump'd into her lap.

now the best of brittle ware er fumptuous table grac'd: polifh'd emblems of the fair, beauteous order plac'd!

kittle boil'd, and all prepar'd o give the morning treat;

n Dick, the country beau, appear'd; nd bowing took his feat.

-chatting on of that and this, he maid revers'd her cup; tempted by the forfeit kifs, he bumpkin turn'd it up.

1 tranfport he demands the prize;
ight fairly it was won!

I many a frown the fair denies :
nd baits to draw him on!
an must prove himself polite,
futch a cafe as this: -

ichard frives with all his might
> force the forfeit kifs,

as he Arove -Oh, dire to tell! And yet with grief I muft)

The table turn'd-the china fell,

A heap of painted duft!
O fatal purport of my dream!
The fair afflicted cry'd,
Occafion'd (I confess my shame)
By childishness and pride!

For in a kifs, or two, or three,

No mifchief could be found! Then had I been more frank and free, My china had been found.

106

SPRING returns; the fawns advance,
Leading on the sprightly dance,
O'er the fallow, o'er the glade
Thro' the funthine, thro' the shade;
Whilft I forlorn, and penfive ftill,
Sit fighing for my daffodil.

See the wanton nymphs appear,
Smiling all, as fmiles the year!
Sporting, print where'er they tread,
Daify ground, or primrose bed,
Whilft I forlorn, &c.

Now the fwain with watʼry fhoe,
Brushes by the morning dew;
With officious love to bear
Frefh-Blown cowflips to his fair.
Whilft I forlorn, &c.,

Gentle nymph, forfake the mead,
To my love for pity plead;
Go, ye fwains, and feek the fair,
This my laft petition bear.

Whilft I forlorn, &c.

Sweeteft maid, that e'er was feen,
Dance at wake, or trip the green;
See a love-fick, fighing fwain,
Hear my vows, relieve my pain;
Or with your frowns for pity kill
Too charming, cruel, daffodil.